you to state your business, Cousin, and allow me to go about mine. As you have clearly observed, I am in no fit state to entertain casual callers.’
Cousin Frederick’s eyes narrowed as he straightened once more. He looked coldly furious. ‘Your pardon, my lady,’ he said in clipped, formal tones. ‘I will relieve you of my unwelcome presence on the instant. I should not wish to inconvenience you in any way.’
With another perfunctory bow, he strode towards the door where Angel was standing, effectively forcing her to make way for him. How dare he?
‘Sir! You—!’
It was too late. Her impossible cousin had thrown open the door and marched out into the hallway. She heard the click of his heels on the marble floor, and then the sound of the front door.
Angel sank into the nearest chair and let out a long slow breath. Stupid! Stupid! Why had she not stopped to think before she spoke? She, after all, was the one who had said that they must make peace with Cousin Frederick’s branch of the family. Instead, she had taken one look at his haughty face and lost her temper. Again! What was it about that man? He made her behave like a foolish child rather than a grown woman.
Whatever the cause, there was no hope of reconciliation after an encounter like that. Her own hasty tongue had made an enemy of the man who was both her cousin and her heir.
Max strode off round the square at a cracking pace. Ross had had the right of it. Max needed to hit something—or someone—soon, or he would explode. So much for his good intentions! What was the point in trying to make peace with such a termagant? The benighted woman was utterly without manners or common decency. Just wait until the tabbies started in on her! Then she would reap the rewards of her unladylike behaviour.
And he would happily watch from the sidelines while the lady’s nemesis approached. If she continued in this vein, she would find herself ostracised from Society.
Did she not deserve it?
Max did not attempt to pursue that question. He knew that reflection was impossible when he was in a black temper. He would do better to follow Ross’s advice. Unfortunately, at this time of day, he could not go to Jackson’s Boxing Saloon.
With an exasperated grunt, he turned his steps towards St James’s and his club. If he could not punch his way out of his temper, he would drown it instead.
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