Fortune's Lady by Patricia Gaffney Page B

French?”
    â€œOf course,” she muttered, embarrassed and angry at the same time.
    â€œGood. I’ll just see Miss Merlin to the carriage,” he said over his shoulder, taking her elbow. Walker hastened to open the library door and bowed politely as they went through; Cass nodded to him, wondering again what he must be thinking.
    Riordan walked slowly but didn’t speak as they crossed the wide, elegant foyer to the front door. The carriage was still by the curb, the coachman engaged in grooming one of the matching gray geldings while he waited. They stood on the shallow flagstone stoop, two steps up from the sidewalk; after a moment Riordan dropped her arm, as if just realizing he still held it.
    â€œGoodbye,” said Cass. He was frowning; she had the impression he wanted to say something.
    â€œCass, you mustn’t mind Oliver. Tact isn’t his strong suit.”
    â€œI had noticed that,” she said coolly. “It doesn’t matter in the least.” She turned away; for some reason his attempt at an apology on Quinn’s behalf deeply embarrassed her. She went down the steps, then stopped, remembering. “Would you do me the favor of reminding Mr. Quinn that I’ve not yet received any of the payment he and I agreed on?”
    At her words, his eyes narrowed and his lips twisted in a cynical smile. “Of course,” he said, bowing.
    She stiffened. “Surely you can appreciate that my new role necessitates certain expenses. Clothes, for one thing. And my aunt—” She broke off in anger, watching his eyes take on a sardonic gleam.
    â€œI’m sure it does,” he agreed smoothly. “A girl has to look out for herself, after all. Strike while the iron is hot, eh? And I expect you’ll want to set something by for a rainy day.”
    She spoke through clenched teeth. “I declare, Mr. Riordan, you’re more edifying than a wallful of samplers. But now if you have no more clichéd advice, I’ll bid you good day.”
    To her dismay, he descended the two steps in one stride and took hold of her arm again. Surely there was no need for him to clasp her waist so tightly as he helped her into the carriage, nor settle her skirts around her with such lingering solicitousness that it was all she could do not to slap his hands away.
    â€œI’ll come to see you tomorrow, Cass,” he said with one hand on the door, leaning in toward her. “Around four again, I should think. Have the book read by then so we can discuss it.” He smiled at her expression. “But you’ll be rereading it, won’t you? I’d forgotten that you admire Rousseau ‘above all men.’”
    She felt like sticking her tongue out at him.
    â€œAnd Cass, do something about your attitude, will you? You’re soon going to have to convince people we’re having a liaison, you know. You might start by calling me by my first name.”
    She glared down at him with all the haughtiness she could summon. “I’m a very good actress; I think I proved that last night rather spectacularly. Although it’s the hardest role I’ll ever have to play, when the time comes I’m sure I’ll be able to convince people I can bear to be in the same room with you. But in the meantime, I see no reason to hide my dislike. In fact, I feel quite incapable of it. Good day, Mister Riordan.”
    So quickly she had no time to react, he swung up into the carriage and sat down, facing her, on the little bit of seat left between her and the door. Her skirt was pinned under his thigh, making it impossible to move over. She had no desire to enter into a physical struggle with him. For one thing, it would be vulgar; for another, he would win. She could scream, but on the whole it didn’t seem worth it. She tried to freeze him with an icy-cold look of disdain, but its only effect was to make his smug smile widen.
    â€œActing, Cass?” he asked