“Will you not greet our guest, Richard?” John slapped his back. “Politely.”
Richard bowed. “Miss Bell. You are looking well.”
“Not so good as a cow, though.”
His lips parted, and the tiniest sound slipped across his lips. A word or a grunt or a growl, she could not tell.
“Tell me, Mr. Clark, to which devil did you sell your soul to keep your looks?”
His teeth snapped when he talked. “The same one you did, Miss Hellcat.”
“Merciful heavens.” Evelina chuckled as she linked her arm through John’s. Her golden mood matched her golden looks—bright yellow hair and green eyes brimming with mirth. The picture of marital bliss, evenbeforethe wedding. “Already at it. Brings back old memories, does it not?”
“I’d rather those memories stay buried,” John said.
“Should we leave them to their mutual disdain?” Evelina asked.
“Yes,” John grumbled. “Who knows what the children have gotten into during our long absence.”
Evelina raised an eyebrow. “It’s been ten minutes. A quarter hour at most.”
“My God. Longer than I thought.” He tugged Evelina out of the gazebo. “If we don’t leave now, they’re likely to have burnt the house down.”
Evelina’s chuckle faded as John dragged her away.
And the silence seemed to congeal around Beatrice and Mr. Clark.
He dropped his gaze and drew a line on the gazebo floor with the toe of his boot.
And when she found even the slight movement of his leg in tight breeches appealing, she inspected the ceiling.
Would he never talk? She could simply leave. No reason to suffer this awkward silence. She stepped toward the stairs.
“I hear you’ve not married,” he said.
What a rude observation. “I am not married, no.” She had, however, decided to take a lover. House parties were perfect opportunities for such dalliances, and she might as well get something out of this one. “I have not yet discovered a man wise enough to wed.”
“All men are fools, then?”
“At least all men I’ve exchanged words with. Besides, they are all too young now.”
“Or you are simply too?—”
“Do not finish that sentence, Mr. Clark.”
The curve of his lip upward dimpled his cheek and flashed a sliver of even, white teeth. He’d always possessed an unfairly lovely smile.
“The problem is the men,” Beatrice said, giving him no chance to continue his insults. “Your brother is one of the few good men I know. The marquess, I mean. Not… not?—”
“I know whom you mean.”
The exiled Daniel hung like an ill wind between them.
“Yes, well. I used to think Mr. Fisher an excellent sort of fellow, too, but then he proved himself otherwise by courting and abandoning my cousin.”
“You still have no idea what happened that day.”
“I know what I need to know!”
