Page 37 of Fair as a Star

She leaned back against the window sill. “Kind? How so?”

“Because keeping him here and forbidding her to ride him will cause more misery for the girl than simply getting rid of him altogether. Once he’s gone, she’ll soon forget—”

“She won’t.”

“You must trust my judgment on this.”

“And you must respect mine,” Beryl said with a trifle more starch than was her habit. “I know my sister.”

Henry gave her a long look. “She’s distressed you.”

“She hasn’t—”

“Pity she didn’t consider your feelings before enlisting you to come to her aid.” Setting a hand at Beryl’s back, he guided her to the overstuffed library sofa. “It will do her good to find out what it’s like not to get what she wants.”

Beryl reluctantly took a seat, her back ramrod straight against one of the sofa’s decorative silk-fringed pillows. “You’re very hard. Winnifred knows precisely what it’s like. She’s had to go without ever since my father died, just as my mother and I have done. We none of us are spoiled or overindulged.”

Henry remained standing, looming over her in that overbearing way of his. “I don’t class the sacrifices you’ve made with those made by your sister.”

“What sacrifices? I’ve given up nothing I want in the name of economy. While Winnifred has been forced to go without a London season, without a fashionable wardrobe, and now without a riding horse.”

“I’ll still permit her to ride. There’s a mare in my stables that’s perfectly suitable for a lady.”

“My sister is an excellent rider, Henry. Better than any man. She won’t be satisfied with a horse that’s lame in all four legs. Besides, it’s Vesper who has captured her heart. She’s his perfect match.”

“Have you ever even seen the pair of them together? He’s too big for her, and far too strong. I was a fool to ever permit her to ride him. No. My mind is made up. He goes to the sales this Friday. I’ve already made the arrangements.”

Beryl opened her mouth to object, but Henry forestalled her.

“I’ll hear no more on the subject,” he said.

She doubted whether he’d heard her at all. Was he so completely unwilling to listen? So utterly opposed to changing his mind? “You won’t do it?” she asked. “Not even as a particular favor to me?”

His expression tightened. “This isn’t like you.”

“To advocate for my sister? Indeed, it is the very essence of me.”

“You’re becoming overwrought.”

Her temper flared quite out of proportion to the circumstances. “And you’re becoming unreasonable.”

A cough sounded at the door. “Tea, sir.” Mrs. Guthrie entered, eyeing the pair of them warily. “Shall I put it here?”

“Yes,” Henry said brusquely. “Thank you, Mrs. Guthrie.”

Beryl was silent while the housekeeper arranged the tea tray on the low mahogany table in front of the sofa.

“Anything else, sir?” Mrs. Guthrie asked.

“That will be all,” Henry said. As the housekeeper exited the room, he added: “Be so good as to close the door behind you.”

“Yes, sir.” Mrs. Guthrie drew the library door shut with a resounding click.

Beryl’s hand froze on the handle of the silver teapot. She looked up at Henry with thinly veiled apprehension. It wasn’t his habit to flout propriety.

“We require a moment of privacy,” he said.

“That sounds ominous.” She resumed pouring their tea, amazed that her hand was so steady. “What is it that you wish to say to me?”