Page 44 of Her Infuriating Earl
She does not know, and yet, she doesknow,he silently mused, for she was not the first to mention that he and Phoebe might be better suited. Evan had attested to it. And Daniel’s own heart needed very little persuasion. Nevertheless, he would not permit it.
“We would kill one another,” he said thickly, rallying his courage. “We would end up resenting one another, and those trifling quarrels would turn into blazing rows. She is a member of the Spinsters’ Club for a good reason, Mother. I doubt there is any gentleman in the world who could convince her to marry, and I do not intend to persuade her, for I do not see what you see. I think we would be a horrible match.”
The sound of creaking floorboards snapped his gaze toward the closed parlor door, a frown creasing his brow as he strained his ears, listening out for any further sounds. None came, the hallway outside as silent as it had been before, leading him to believe that it was just the old house shifting on its foundations.
Amelia’s nostrils flared. “Ithink you are protesting too much.”
“Mother, if it was Phoebe that I wished to court, do you not think I would be doing so? Do you not think I would be throwing everything I have into gaining her approval and her love? Have you seen me do any of that?” he countered, hoping his face would not give him away.
His mother shrugged her shoulders. “I have seen you do several of those things, actually.”
“ForJoanna,” he insisted, struck by how guilty it made him feel, even if thatwashow he had initially begun his pursuit.
Was it worse that way, if he had settled on one sister, only to realize that he favored another? He did not know. It all felt wrong to him, at that point.
His mother shook her head. “Yet, I do not believe that. I know you, Daniel, far better than you think.”
“You know nothing of how I conduct business,” he replied. “To me, this is a matter of business, and in order to gain the deal that I need, I must flatter and cajole everyone who has a part in that business exchange becoming a success. It might sound… unfeeling, but it is the only way I can describe it. In this instance, Joanna is the silk or the spices, and Phoebe is the merchant who is refusing to sell. I must sweeten her opinion of me in order to purchase the goods. Does that make sense?”
Amelia looked truly perplexed, huffing and puffing a little as she made a slow lap of the parlor. “Well, it does make sense, though I do not like the manner in which you have phrased it.”
“I said it was not a gentlemanly description, and that is not actually how I view Joanna, of course, but I am hoping it is clearer to you now.”
From the hallway, he heard another creak, louder than before. He stared at the door for a moment, his feet responding a second later. With a twist of nerves in his stomach, he marched toward the door, wrenched it open… and found no one outside. The hallway was empty.
He stepped out, looking left and right. Just as he was about to turn around, fearing he was losing his mind, he saw a shadow at the farthest end of the hall slipping into one of the servants’ corridors.
Was someone eavesdropping?
He frowned, feeling uneasy.
“What are you doing?” Amelia asked.
“Nothing,” he replied, looking back at her. “Now, where were we?”
* * *
Phoebe was not the sort of lady who eavesdropped, nor had she meant to listen to what Daniel was saying to his mother. She had been on her way to Amelia to ask what the plan was for their adventure into town and had been about to raise her hand to knock when she had heard it.
“She is a member of the Spinsters’ Club for a good reason, Mother. I doubt there is any gentleman in the world who could convince her to marry, and I do not intend to persuade her, for I do not see what you see. I think we would be a horrible match.”
Indeed, he had said it loud enough that the entire manor had likely heard it.
As she hurried through the servants’ corridors with her heart in her throat, tears stinging her eyes, she had no notion of where she was going, only that she could not allow Daniel to see her. Evidently, he already thought little enough of her without her adding “eavesdropper” to the list.
If we would be a horrible match, why did you kiss me?
She fumed, pulling out a handkerchief to dab away the silly tears. He had wounded her, and, what was worse, he had not known she was there. Surely, that meant his words were brutal honesty, for he did not have to temper them for the sake of civility.
He was trying to sweeten you. He explained it himself,her mind whispered.
After all, listening to herself being described as a stubborn merchant had not been very pleasant either.
She burst out into what appeared to be the kitchens, startling the servants who were tending to their duties, polishing cutlery, preparing dishes for the evening dinner, and washing up the pots and pans from breakfast. They must have thought she was a madwoman, hurtling into the room with red, teary eyes, half talking to herself.
To make matters worse, there was someone else in the kitchens—an unpleasantly familiar face belonging to the very last person she wanted to see.
“Miss Wilson?” The Baron of Harburgh rose from his seat by the kitchen door, where he had been enjoying a strawberry tart. “Are you well?”
