After The Storm by Kimberly Nee Page B

his morning ride and the dance lessons. Hot spears drove up into his hip, down into his ankle, and he swallowed a rising groan at the thought of the stairs awaiting him.
    “Friends? Bah!”
    Halfway through the doorway, Hugh paused and slowly turned to face her again. “Bah? Bah what?”
    “Since when do you have lady friends?”
    He managed a bland smile, though he really wanted to wring her neck for her nosiness. There were those times when he wished she didn’t think everyone else’s concerns were hers as well. “Do not trouble yourself by meddling in my affairs. I can assure you, I’ve done nothing improper and have nothing to hide. I find Miss MacDonough to be a breath of fresh air. Nothing more, nothing less.”
    “I should hope so. From what I hear, Sally spends much of her time planning yourwedding, you know. If you do not ask her soon, she might burst.”
    He waved off her concern. “She will have no one to blame but herself for putting the cart before the horse. As for now, I do not have to answer to anyone, least of all you, Elyse, so I will say this only once. Stay out of my affairs.”
    “Very well, Hugh. I will respect your wishes. It is just that I like Randi. And I see how she peeks at you when she thinks no one else is looking. I should hate to see her hurt.”
    “She knows about Sally. And I’ve no intention of taking it beyond friendship. And I daresay, a friend is exactly what she needs.” He shot her a pointed look. “I must ask, how did your boorish husband managed to weasel his way out of assisting today.”
    Elyse pressed her lips together and shook her head. “I do not wish to discuss that now, if you’d not mind.”
    As she spoke, her eyes reddened and Hugh’s belly kinked at the tears gathered there. She was not a crier, had never been a crier. That she welled up at the mention of her husband’s name sent his protective instincts screaming to life.
    “What is your trouble?” he asked as gently as he could manage, swallowing the ferocious growl threatening to erupt. He stumped over to her and cupped his hand against her shoulder. “Lyssa?”
    She shook her head emphatically. “It is nothing, Hugh. A matter between my husband and me.”
    “Elyse.”
    “No. You need not worry, Hugh.” She took a deep breath. “And do not think to approach Derek, either.”
    He lifted his hand. “I wouldn’t dream of approaching him. The temptation to break him in two would be impossible to resist. Especially if he is the reason behind your tears.”
    “Well, he isn’t, so you need not concern yourself.”
    He sighed. There was little use in prodding. They were very much alike—stoic almost to a fault. “Very well. But if you ever wish to unburden yourself I do hope you’ll seek me out.”
    She turned away. He stared at her back for several minutes as she busied herself with tidying up the scattered sheet music at the pianoforte. When she remained silent, he patted her shoulder once more, and left her to her thoughts.

 
     
     
     
     
    Chapter Eight
     
    A house party. The hunt. The ball. Miranda frowned and sipped her tea. “I hadn’t realized I had but days to learn everything necessary for such things. This was a terrible idea. A horrible idea, even. I’m afraid I am going to be a disaster. An absolute mess. I’ll muck everything up and ruin my chances entirely.”
    Elyse tucked her legs up beneath her, waved an airy hand, and smiled as she replied, “Oh, pish. You are doing wonderfully so far. I see no reason for you to fret. Why, no one would ever guess you weren’t born and raised right here.” She jabbed her forefinger into the arm of the sofa for emphasis.
    Miranda was already exhausted. There was simply no end to the list of things she need know. “I still have so much to learn and it seems to me rules exist for everything. Rules for standing. Rules for sitting. Rules for conversation. I cannot possibly remember them all.” She shook her head. “I will fall flat on