Ring of Secrets by Roseanna M. White Page B

turned on him. “He is usually quite stingy with that particular compliment.”
    Mother lifted a hand from her chair. “Archibald, do come tell the Hamptons what you told me of General Clinton.”
    Archie sent his gaze to the ceiling, bowed to Miss Reeves, and then spun. “Coming, Mother.”
    â€œThank you, Mother,” Ben muttered.
    Miss Reeves chuckled. “Are you not on good terms with your brother?”
    For a moment he stared at the bright red of his brother’s jacket. Archie had grown into the sort of man who made friends wherever he went, though often left a few enemies behind him—generally in the form of irate fathers. His features were finer than Ben’s, his hair a few shades lighter, his form fashionably slender. But for once he was in the company of a young lady whose head didn’t seem to be turned by him.
    Amazing.
    â€œOn the contrary, Miss Reeves, we are on very good terms—when not together.” He turned his head toward her again and smiled, pitching his voice once again to a quiet level. “I have discovered that Archie and I make the best sort of correspondents and the worst sort of companions. We care for each other greatly, but we are too different.”
    She nodded, her expression finally absent the layer of performance. “You ought to be glad of that, Mr. Lane. I certainly am. Your brother is…tiring, let us say. Or parrying his advances is so, at any rate.”
    He could follow that line and get a few answers, and maybe he would at another time. But there were more pressing concerns to address in the few minutes of semi privacy they enjoyed. “And what is it you failed to parry today, my dear, that resulted in the bruise upon your cheek?”
    Her chin lifted. But still it trembled ever so slightly. “Mr. Lane, it is quite rude to draw attention to my clumsiness.”
    â€œIt may be, were it a result of such.” Yet ’twas not embarrassment that colored her eyes, but something darker. Something that made fierce instincts clamor up inside him.
    Someone had done this to her in the few hours since they had parted ways at the Shirleys’. Someone, no doubt, beneath this roof. If he were a betting man, he would have staked his fortune that the someone owned the roof.
    She looked deep into his eyes for a few moments and seemed to see the thoughts rioting within. Her fingers soothed over his forearm. “If you think it not a result of my running into something, then you must imagine…well, that is absurd, of course. Though if it were the case, you would still have no cause to worry.”
    â€œWould I not?” He led them to the window and halted, so close to the panes that he could feel the cold radiating from them. Better that than being any closer to the rest of the group.
    â€œIndeed not.” Her voice was the barest of whispers, scarcely making it to his ears. “For you see, Mr. Lane, though I can tolerate the order not to think for myself, there are some things I will not suffer. And so you can be sure that if this bruise were the fault of anyone but myself—which, of course, it is not—then it is the first time such a thing has happened. And will without doubt be the last, lest such a perpetrator—who does not exist, mind you—finds his secrets all spilled.”
    That eased his mind for only a moment. He had no doubt Hampton possessed his share of secrets he would not want society to be privy to. But a man who would strike his granddaughter on the face was surely not one to let her threaten him in response. He shook his head. “I do not want to see you hurt, Miss Reeves.”
    â€œNor do I, I assure you.” Brightness bullied its way into her smile.
    It made the room feel all the darker. This place, this family, was not where she belonged. Yet he was not the one to rescue her from it, not when his own life would offer her none of what she thought it would. “Miss