a birdcage, general rumour has it.’ Henri tapped her boot against the wooden floor as the words rushed out of her.
He gave her a level look with his dark brown eyes. ‘Was it any of your business, Lady Thorndike? You would have given me a long list of things that needed to be done, people that she needed to meet and committees she needed to be on without ever having encountered Miss Ravel.’
Henri ground her teeth. Being new in a village like Corbridge was difficult. When she’d arrived, she had longed for someone to take her under their wing and provide some guidance. No one, not even her aunt, had, and she’d resolved never to allow that fate to happen to anyone else. She had organised the Corbridge Society for Hospitality, making Miss Armstrong her deputy, in part because of Miss Armstrong’s ability to learn of new arrivals first, but also to keep Miss Armstrong fully occupied. ‘Was Miss Ravel one of the reasons why you enticed me into this ridiculous wager?’
He was silent for a long heartbeat. Anger coursed through Henri. He was playing games with her. Nobody did such a thing. And it hurt all the worse that it was someone she liked and respected. She had thought he understood that she only wanted the best for people, and the fact he so offensively misunderstood her motives was deeply upsetting.
‘I won’t lie,’ he said gravely. ‘Miss Ravel’s situation did have some bearing on my request.’
‘Mr Montemorcy, you have treated me with contempt,’ Henri ground out. Her insides ached. Robert Montemorcy hadn’t trusted her enough to confide that his guests were expected up from London. He thought her so callous that she’d spread gossip or worse. And even now he kept the true reason for Miss Ravel being here hidden from her. ‘I deserved better than that.’
‘I had my reasons.’
‘And they are.?’ Henri asked in a low tone. ‘Is there anything I should know? I have no wish to make any more mistakes.’
‘That is Miss Ravel’s business and not mine to tell.’ A muscle jumped in his jaw and his face appeared more remote than ever. ‘I will not have her become the subject of common gossip. I made her late father a promise and I intend to keep it.’
Henri took a step backwards and felt the books dig into her back. Her throat became dry. He had given Miss Ravel’s father a deathbed promise. She’d rather thought her life was going to go on an even keel, but suddenly it was all change. She’d mistaken everything. Her blood fizzled. ‘And you don’t trust me with the truth. What are you afraid of, Montemorcy? What did you think I’d do? Shout the news from the top of the church steeple that you were about to be betrothed?’
‘Miss Ravel is the daughter of an old and dear friend, Lady Thorndike, and my ward.’ Robert attempted to contain his anger. How dare she stand there wearing a fierce expression and the ribbons of her bonnet trembling! His private life was private. And he certainly was not serving it up for her delectation, fetching bonnet or not. If he ever became betrothed, he certainly would not be informing Henrietta Thorndike first. Asking for her advice? The thought was unconscionable. ‘Please choose your words with care.’
Her blue eyes opened wide. ‘You have a ward? Why have you never divulged this information to me?’
‘There are many things you do not know about me, madam.’ Robert looked her up and down slowly, taking in the way her purple-and-white-checked day dress hugged her curves and then flared out into a full skirt. ‘We are neighbours, rather than intimate companions.’
Two bright spots appeared on her cheeks. ‘Having a ward is hardly a state secret.’
‘My business, no one else’s.’
‘But pertinent to our wager. The fact remains—you manoeuvred me into that wager so that you could protect your ward from what you considered to be my unwarranted inference! I have never interfered when I was unwanted, sir! A simple request would have sufficed!’
Various other library patrons turned around and Robert winced. The gossip that he’d quarrelled with Lady Thorndike would be around the village in a matter of minutes. And it would only add to the speculation about his visitors and their reason for abandoning London. He should turn on his heel and walk away, but he quickly rejected the notion. If the village would talk, he’d give them something infinitely more interesting to digest than the suspiciously sudden arrival of his ward.
He placed a hand on either side of her, trapping her against the bookcase. ‘I gave you the main reason at the wedding breakfast, madam. You are entirely too involved in your matchmaking schemes. You think of nothing beyond the next match. You dominate village social life with your musicales, picnics and dancing classes, which are all designed for one purpose: to facilitate matrimony, whether the parties involved are truly interested or not. Are you attempting to back out of our wager? You were so certain of victory. Do you wish to admit defeat?’
‘No, sir, I’m not ready. I am no faint heart.’
Rather than seeking to escape, she held her head high and her being radiated hurt dignity. A vague sense of admiration filled him. He leant forwards so his breath would brush her cheek. ‘I’m glad to hear it.’
‘You are behaving improperly, sir,’ she said as her breath came faster. ‘In a public place!’
‘Am I? How intriguing.’ He fastened his gaze on her full red lips. ‘Precisely what am I doing wrong, Lady Thorndike? Do tell. I wish to remedy my bad behaviour.’
The air between them crackled.
‘I hope your dancing shoes are polished and ready,’ she said with a husky note in her voice. ‘I expect a polka worthy of the name after your underhanded behaviour.’
‘My dancing shoes are in my wardrobe where they will remain. You will be unable to resist temptation, Lady Thorndike. We both know it. Admit defeat now and have done with it.’ He leant forwards so that their foreheads nearly touched. Her lips were softly parted and he could see the pulse beating in the hollow of her throat. Silently he willed her to lean forwards and complete the tableau. ‘Miss Ravel’s visit is sudden. Her story is not mine to tell. But I promise you, if you attempt to ensnare my ward in any of your matchmaking schemes, you will regret it.’
Henri lifted his arm away from the bookcase as her eyes blazed defiantly. ‘I have done nothing to facilitate or suggest any such match. Nor do I intend doing so in the near future,’ she said in a furious undertone. ‘You should have confided in me, instead of attempting this flim-flam nonsense of a wager to curb my behaviour. My behaviour, sir, has been exemplary in the extreme.’
Robert counted to ten and breathed deeply as the whispers grew in the library. The gossip would now centre on Lady Thorndike rather than on his ward. But he had not one twinge of regret. His ward’s already fragile reputation needed protecting, which wouldn’t happen if Lady Thorndike could not resist meddling. And the only way he could think of to ensure that had been the—deliberately provocative, he’d happily admit it—wager. ‘You have several weeks to go. Temptation will get the better of you, Lady Thorndike. It always does.’
Henrietta Thorndike opened and closed her mouth several times, before twitching her skirts away from him. ‘Good day, Mr Montemorcy. I believe we have entirely fallen out of civility with each other.’
‘Were we ever in civility?’ he murmured, his hand skimming her arm. ‘Pray tell me when.’
‘I have certainly tried to be polite, but I now see politeness is beyond you,’ she snapped.
‘Lady
