raise the hopes of Daniel’s family. And perhaps more to the point, he could not imagine they would receive him if he paid a call.
“You’re sorry?” Lady Sarah said scornfully. “I find that difficult to believe.”
Again, he paused. He did not like to respond to provocation with immediate outburst. He never had, which made his behavior with Daniel all the more galling. If he hadn’t been drinking, he would have behaved rationally, and none of this would have happened. He certainly would not have been standing here in a darkened corner of Charles Dunwoody’s parents’ home, in the company of a woman who had obviously sought him out for no other reason than to hurl insults at his head.
“You may believe what you wish,” he replied. He owed her no explanations.
For a moment neither spoke, then Lady Sarah said, “They left, in case you were wondering.”
He tilted his head in query.
“Aunt Virginia and Honoria. They left as soon as they realized you were here.”
Hugh did not know what she intended with her statement. Was he meant to feel guilty? Had they wanted to remain at the party? Or was this more of an insult? Perhaps Lady Sarah was trying to tell him that he was so repellent that her cousins could not tolerate his presence.
So he said nothing. He did not wish to make an incorrect reply. But then something niggled at his brain. A puzzle of sorts. Nothing more than an unanswered question, but it was so strange and out of place that he had to know the answer. And so he asked, “What did you mean earlier, fourteen men?”
Lady Sarah’s mouth flattened into a grim line. Well, more grim, if such a thing were possible.
“When you first saw me,” he reminded her, although he rather thought she knew precisely what he was talking about, “you said something about fourteen men.”
“It was nothing,” she said dismissively, but her eyes shifted the tiniest bit to the right. She was lying. Or embarrassed. Probably both.
“Fourteen is not nothing.” He was being pedantic, he knew, but she’d already tried his patience in every way but the mathematical. 14 ≠ 0, but more to the point, why did people bring things up if they didn’t want to talk about them? If she hadn’t intended to explain the comment, she bloody well should have kept it to herself.
She stepped rather noticeably to the side. “Please,” she said, “go.”
He didn’t move. She’d piqued his curiosity, and there was little in this world more tenacious than Hugh Prentice with an unanswered question.
“You have just spent the last hour ordering me out of your way,” she ground out.
“Five minutes,” he corrected, “and while I do long for the serenity of my own home, I find myself curious about your fourteen men.”
“They were not my fourteen men,” she snapped.
“I should hope not,” he murmured, then added, “not that I would judge.”
Her mouth fell open.
“Tell me about the fourteen men,” he prodded.
“I told you,” she insisted, her cheeks flushing a satisfactory shade of pink, “it was nothing.”
“But I’m curious. Fourteen men for supper? For tea? It’s too many for a team of cricket, but—”
“Stop!” she burst out.
He did. Quirked a brow, even.
“If you must know,” she said, her voice clipped with fury, “there were fourteen men who became engaged to be married in 1821.”
There was a very long pause. Hugh was not an unintelligent man, but he had no idea what this had to do with anything. “Did all fourteen men become married?” he asked politely.
She stared at him.
“You said fourteen became engaged to be married.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“It does to them, I would imagine.”
He’d thought they were done with histrionics, but Lady Sarah let out a cry of frustration. “You don’t understand anything!”
“Oh, for the love of—”
“Do you have any idea of what you’ve done?” she demanded. “While you sit in your comfortable home, all cozy in
“You’re sorry?” Lady Sarah said scornfully. “I find that difficult to believe.”
Again, he paused. He did not like to respond to provocation with immediate outburst. He never had, which made his behavior with Daniel all the more galling. If he hadn’t been drinking, he would have behaved rationally, and none of this would have happened. He certainly would not have been standing here in a darkened corner of Charles Dunwoody’s parents’ home, in the company of a woman who had obviously sought him out for no other reason than to hurl insults at his head.
“You may believe what you wish,” he replied. He owed her no explanations.
For a moment neither spoke, then Lady Sarah said, “They left, in case you were wondering.”
He tilted his head in query.
“Aunt Virginia and Honoria. They left as soon as they realized you were here.”
Hugh did not know what she intended with her statement. Was he meant to feel guilty? Had they wanted to remain at the party? Or was this more of an insult? Perhaps Lady Sarah was trying to tell him that he was so repellent that her cousins could not tolerate his presence.
So he said nothing. He did not wish to make an incorrect reply. But then something niggled at his brain. A puzzle of sorts. Nothing more than an unanswered question, but it was so strange and out of place that he had to know the answer. And so he asked, “What did you mean earlier, fourteen men?”
Lady Sarah’s mouth flattened into a grim line. Well, more grim, if such a thing were possible.
“When you first saw me,” he reminded her, although he rather thought she knew precisely what he was talking about, “you said something about fourteen men.”
“It was nothing,” she said dismissively, but her eyes shifted the tiniest bit to the right. She was lying. Or embarrassed. Probably both.
“Fourteen is not nothing.” He was being pedantic, he knew, but she’d already tried his patience in every way but the mathematical. 14 ≠ 0, but more to the point, why did people bring things up if they didn’t want to talk about them? If she hadn’t intended to explain the comment, she bloody well should have kept it to herself.
She stepped rather noticeably to the side. “Please,” she said, “go.”
He didn’t move. She’d piqued his curiosity, and there was little in this world more tenacious than Hugh Prentice with an unanswered question.
“You have just spent the last hour ordering me out of your way,” she ground out.
“Five minutes,” he corrected, “and while I do long for the serenity of my own home, I find myself curious about your fourteen men.”
“They were not my fourteen men,” she snapped.
“I should hope not,” he murmured, then added, “not that I would judge.”
Her mouth fell open.
“Tell me about the fourteen men,” he prodded.
“I told you,” she insisted, her cheeks flushing a satisfactory shade of pink, “it was nothing.”
“But I’m curious. Fourteen men for supper? For tea? It’s too many for a team of cricket, but—”
“Stop!” she burst out.
He did. Quirked a brow, even.
“If you must know,” she said, her voice clipped with fury, “there were fourteen men who became engaged to be married in 1821.”
There was a very long pause. Hugh was not an unintelligent man, but he had no idea what this had to do with anything. “Did all fourteen men become married?” he asked politely.
She stared at him.
“You said fourteen became engaged to be married.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“It does to them, I would imagine.”
He’d thought they were done with histrionics, but Lady Sarah let out a cry of frustration. “You don’t understand anything!”
“Oh, for the love of—”
“Do you have any idea of what you’ve done?” she demanded. “While you sit in your comfortable home, all cozy in
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