Page 66 of The Trouble with Tweed

“I confess I thought of sending it back. It’s highly irregular, a single young man sending an expensive gift like that. But then I read the note, which assured both Mother and me that your brother has no romantic designs on Sylvia whatsoever.”

“What did he say?”

Claire was curious, for it was highly irregular. Such an expensive gift could have easily been misconstrued as some sort of romantic declaration.

“He stated that it was a token of the long-standing friendship between our families, that he sees Sylvia as another of his sisters, and that he admires her courage.”

“Her courage?”

“He put it very delicately, but essentially, he admires her courage in going out in public with purple hair. After much consideration, I decided she could keep the thing. I think it helped her.”

“I did notice she was embracing the color scheme,” she admitted.

“She was smiling when she tried it on. I don’t think I could have taken it away from her after I saw that, but I’m happy your brother’s letter left no doubt that his romantic intentions lie elsewhere.”

“Oh?”

“He encouraged Sylvia to wear it to his wedding to Miss Warrington in a few weeks.”

Claire spluttered her indignation. To her knowledge, there was no understanding between her brother and Dahlia Warrington.

Michael grinned. “Only he said she must keep it a secret, as no one—not even the bride—was aware of the occasion yet.”

“The sheer nerve of the fellow.” She shook her head.

“I’m starting to think that I might learn a few things from him.”

“Such as?”

“Stating what you want, with confidence.”

Michael stared down at her with those piercing blue eyes. She couldn’t quite read the expression he wore. For some reason, the champagne bubbles in her stomach had returned.

“And what is it that you want?” If her voice was a little breathy, she hoped he didn’t hear it.

“A dance, for starters.”

She laughed as she placed her hand in his and allowed him to whirl her onto the dance floor.

After several dances with other gentlemen—the last of which was with a young lord who described the contents of the library of his large estate in excruciating detail, Claire begged a respite. Instead of heading all the way down the hall towards the lady’s retiring room, she ducked through a side door into the gardens.

Claire leaned back against the glass door and gulped the fresh air. A low stone balustrade flanked by two stone pillars separated the alcove she stood in from the rest of the garden. It was quiet except for the low whispering of leaves and the muted strains of music from within the house. Silvery moonlight dappled the shrubbery before her.

The scene reminded Claire of another night, years ago, when she’d gone looking for her brother. Though she tried her best never to think of that night, she supposed it couldn’t be helped—this garden was much the same as that one, divided as it was into different rooms by trimmed shrubbery.

Voices ahead. Claire froze behind the stone pillar instinctively. It would be disastrous if she were caught without a chaperone in the gardens. Claire had simply been looking for a break from the bustle of the party, but the truth of things didn’t matter to the gossips. There were those who would view Claire’s innocent desire through the lens of suspicion and censure. Many members of the ton wouldn’t let the truth get in the way of a good rumor.

“Don’t you think we should go back inside?” a young lady said.

For some reason, Claire thought lady’s voice familiar, but she was too far away to discern who it was.

“Not at all,” the man said before his murmuring grew too low for Claire to make out his words.

If Claire hadn’t thought she recognized the lady’s voice, she wouldn’t have done what she did. She took a hurried glance around before seating herself on the balustrade. She wrinkled her nose at what the stone might do to the silk-satin she wore, but in one smooth motion, she transferred her feet from one side of the balustrade to the other. Then she set off toward the next garden room.

“My brother will be dreadfully upset if he finds me missing,” the lady murmured.

“He never needs to know, my darling.”