The Scandalous Adventures of the Sister of the Bride by Victoria Alexander Page B

honorable sort?”
    “No, you were quite—”
    “Gentlemen are not confined to England, you know.”
    “Of course, I didn’t—”
    “I might well be insulted.”
    “Well I didn’t—”
    “No, on second thought, I am insulted.” He pinned her with the sort of hard look he usually reserved for business.
     “And offended.”
    She sighed. “Then apparently I owe you yet another apology.”
    “They are mounting up.” He set his glass on a table, his tone as casual as his manner.
     “What do you intend to do about it?”
    “Nothing.” Her brow furrowed in annoyance. “I have apologized, more than once. What
     more would you have me do?”
    “I’m not sure.” He shook his head. “Perhaps if you sounded more sincere.”
    “Good Lord, you are an annoying beast.” She downed the rest of her drink and set her
     glass down beside his with a thunk. “Very well then.” She counted the points off on
     her fingers. “One, you have my heartfelt and sincere apologies for my rudeness this
     afternoon. Two, I apologize for not being completely honest with you in New York.
     And three, I am deeply sorry if I cast any aspersions as to the honorable nature of
     your character. There.” She cast him an overly polite smile. “I do hope that was sincere
     enough for you.”
    “It wasn’t bad.” He shrugged. “It could use some practice. You’re not used to apologizing,
     are you?”
    “I rarely do anything that requires an apology.”
    “I find that hard to believe.” He turned away from her and wandered around the perimeter
     of the room, stopping to study a large portrait of a woman and three young girls.
     He didn’t need to look at Delilah to know she was debating whether to ignore his comment
     or take up the gauntlet. He’d bet on the latter.
    A long moment drifted by in silence. Was he wrong?
    “I’ll have you know, I am usually quite pleasant.”
    It was all he could do to keep from laughing. Of course he wasn’t wrong, he was rarely
     wrong.
    “And amusing,” she continued. “I’m excellent at conversing on any number of topics.
     People find me quite clever. And I’m polite, unfailingly polite. And I am never—”
    “Rude,” he said absently, bending closer to the painting to read the artist’s signature.
     “You said that.”
    “Obviously, it bears repeating.”
    “You probably can’t say that you’re never rude often enough.”
    “Apparently!”
    “One should always be clear about that sort of thing.” He glanced at her. “As one
     should always be clear about never seeing someone again.”
    “I thought I was clear.”
    “And yet, here I am.” He smiled. “And here I intend to stay.”
    “No doubt.” She considered him for a moment. “It might be frightfully dull for you
     here, though.”
    He chuckled. “I can’t imagine that.”
    “And it does seem a shame, since you have never really seen anything outside of London,
     for you to be trapped here,” she said, a sly note in her voice. “When you could be
     enjoying a bit of travel. Brighton is lovely this time of year.”
    “Brighton?”
    “Oh, my yes.” She bubbled with enthusiasm. “The crowds are gone now and it’s quite
     a charming place.”
    “Nonetheless, I have no desire to travel to Brighton or anywhere else at the moment.”
     He glanced around the library. “No, I am looking forward to enjoying the peace and
     quiet of the country here at Millworth.”
    “Yes, well, I suspected as much.” She thought for a moment. “It might be awkward,
     you know. For the two of us to be in such close proximity.”
    “Because you never wanted to see me again?”
    “There is that . . .”
    “But then you told the others we have never met and I am not so lacking in chivalry
     that I would point out a lady’s deceit.”
    “Thank you. That is most appreciated.” The reluctant note in her voice belied her
     words. “I would appreciate as well if we did try to avoid one another. It would be
     easier to keep up