Page 16
Back and forth. Back and forth.
Corinna had difficulty dragging her focus from the striking planes and angles of Caspian’s face. A lock of sable hair had fallen onto his brow in an endearing fashion.
Spearing him with a burn-in-Hades glare meant to incinerate him to ashes, Doretta snatched Adelphia’s hand, and the pair stomped off.
Edmonia giggled, and Joanna joined her.
“Thank you, sir,” Garland said, smearing marmalade on a triangle of toast.
“My pleasure.” He gave Corinna a side-eyed glance. “I detest bullies and hypocrites.”
Something unfurled in her chest, and she smiled up at him.
“Hear, hear,” Joanna said.
“There you are. Just the two I was looking for.”
Lady Osborne cruised forth, a regal schooner in full sail and, as typical, attired in black. Aware of her power and position, the peeress used both to her advantage with considerable skill. “I require assistance with planning parlor games in my salon at exactly half of ten.”
In the characteristic fashion of aristocrats, she didn’t ask but directed.
If Lady Osborne required assistance with a single detail of the house party, Corinna would apologize to Adelphia and Doretta. That, most assuredly, wasn’t happening.
Her ladyship recognized Corinna’s skepticism. Giving a little huff, she leveled Corinna and Caspian a do-not-argue commanding look.
Corinna scrambled for an excuse, but not a single believable tarradiddle sprang to mind.
A piece of toast in his hand, Caspian angled his head. “I am happy to assist you as long as Miss Brockman and these lovely ladies are also available.”
He swept his gaze over the beaming Claiborne sisters.
Three heads bobbed in such eager unison, they might’ve practiced for weeks to accomplish such synchronization.
“Hmph.” Lady Osborne barely paused. “Very well. Do not be late.”
She drifted away to greet her other guests, and Corinna gave Caspian a skeptical look.
“If she needs assistance with parlor games, I’m a penguin.”
He angled close. “I’ll bet my boots that Lady Osborne is up to no good.”
Garland leaned forward and said under her breath, “Do you think she’s playing matchmaker with you two?”
Corinna darted Caspian a flabbergasted glance, and they both burst into laughter.
“No,” he choked out, having just swallowed his bite of toast. He gulped down a mouthful of tea, looking for all the world as if he’d been asked to wed Methuselah.
Corinna wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or affronted.
“No.” Corinna shook her head so hard a curl sprang free of the neat knot Betsy had arranged. “Indeed not,” she said again for emphasis. “Please, I beg you, do not start that rumor.”
“Of course not,” Garland agreed, and her sisters nodded their affirmation. “Forgive me for suggesting it.”
She appeared so contrite, Corinna felt sorry for her.
“It’s of no consequence,” she assured Garland.
“None,” Caspian managed through his coughing fit.
Why, then, did something near disappointment root around Corinna’s middle at his vehement protest?
