Page 44 of Rules for Heiresses
No, of course not. He’d made it clear that nothing could happen between them. This was merely an act for everyone else, and she was the ninny misreading every little thing because she couldn’t think straight around him. Ravenna slowed her erratic fanning, even though the puffs of air felt good against her scorching face in the stuffy ballroom. Her skin felt as though it was on fire and he was the tall glass of water that could put it out.
Gracious, her thoughts were as ungovernable as her body.
She could handle an angry, fractious Courtland. It was the flirty, devilish side of him she had to be wary of.Thatman was of particular danger to her, as was evidenced by her current state.
“I assure you it’s not all that interesting,” she replied, snapping her fan closed and suddenly remembering all the coquettish movements she and Clara had practiced. If only there was a fan movement forI am curious and wish desperately to learn more of whatever wickedness you have to teach, sir.
Such a thing would likely entail dragging the tip of the fan down one’s neck and across one’s décolletage. Maybe even lower for the right emphasis. She wasn’t daring enough for any of those, not with him. It was curious. A year ago, she would have flirted unconscionably…dared to be so bold and more. She’d lived for provoking the sensibilities of theton. Perhaps then it was because she hadn’t cared what any man thought of her.
But now things felt different, and not just because she was married. She did care what Courtland thought of her. She always had, even when he was dressed in short pants, his knobby knees covered in dirt as he built a fort between their estates because she’d suggested it. As a boy, he’d been her only confidant, and despite their volatile relationship, the only boy she’d ever trusted besides her brothers. And then he’d vanished.
“Why did you leave Kettering without a word?” The question burst out of her before she could stop it. This was neither the time nor the place.
He stared down at her. “Not of my own accord, I can tell you that.”
“Why didn’t you come to me if you were in trouble? I could have helped you.”
The light in his eyes dimmed, though his smile remained fixed. “You were all of fourteen. My only living parent sent me away. What could you have done?”
She bit her lip. Nothing. She could have done nothing. Even now, despite the illusion of independence she’d pretended to have, she’d always been impeded by the boundaries of her sex, of her station. She owned no property and wielded no power beyond what society had deemed appropriate.
Ravenna huffed a breath, horror filling her. “Wait,shesent you away?”
“Yes, with a purse full of money and a retinue of servants I fired the moment I gained my majority. I wanted no one telling her what had become of me. I was always a burden to her.”
“That’s not your fault. It’s hers for being a hateful person without a heart.”
He shrugged. “She was only doing what others in her place might have done, Ravenna.”
“Why are you defending her?” she asked with a scowl.
“I’m not. She’s dreadful, but I was the son of the marquess’s first wife and she wanted me gone. In hindsight, I was probably lucky. She could have had me thrown on a boat heading to the penal colonies if she wanted.”
She shook her head. “No, you’re wrong. Not everyone thinks like that. Not me, or my brother, or even my mother, and you know how set in her ways she is. Your stepmother must account for what she did to you.”
His throat working, he opened his mouth to reply, but then drew himself upright, eyes shuttering, and Ravenna wondered at the swift change. She didn’t have long to ponder it when his brother staggered into view, accompanied by none other than Mr. Sommers. Her immediate dislike of the second man intensified the minute his gaze fell on her. She did not realize the two men were acquainted.
“Good evening, Your Graces,” the rotund man drawled. “Did I get that right?”
Courtland canted his head. “Sommers. Stinson.”
“What are you doing here?” Stinson demanded, his face flushed, the pungent waft of whiskey surrounding him like a shroud. “You weren’t invited.”
“Do I need an invitation to my own house?” Courtland said, eyes narrowing. “The property is entailed, if you want to check with your solicitors.”
“You cunning bastard,” Stinson wheezed, going puce.
The insult wasn’t as quiet as he’d intended, if the nearby gasps were any signal. Sommers grinned a sly smile as though he were enjoying the spectacle. Curious eyes darted toward them, guests shuffling nearer in anticipation. Even Lady Borne’s blue gaze narrowed on them from where she stood near the refreshments room, but that could have been because she’d been keeping an eye on the whereabouts of the uninvited.
Ravenna scowled—she and her mother had received an invitation—so the slight was intended. Again, she stared at Stinson. She had never seen this disagreeable, ugly side of him. The Stinson she knew was charming and courteous to a fault…ever the perfect, if slightly ingratiating, gentleman. But perhaps that had all been some kind of act.
“You’re foxed, Stinson,” she said, sensing the tension in her husband double. She placed a hand on Courtland’s arm, the hard muscle flexing beneath her fingertips. “I advise you to stop and walk away before you say something you truly regret.”
Stinson’s blue gaze—so much like his mother’s, though at the moment red and watery—fell to her hand, scorn swimming in his look. “Youadvise me? Forgive me if I refuse,Your Grace. Even as a child you were oblivious.”
“That is enough, Stinson,” Courtland bit out.
The music in the ballroom hadn’t stopped, but necks were craning to see what was causing the commotion. Nearby guests had abandoned even pretending not to eavesdrop. Everyone was salivating at the latest on-dit between the two brothers. Despite Stinson’s unkind jab, Ravenna had to nip this in the bud before it escalated any more. Already, she could feel Courtland’s fury mounting, if his bunched muscles and tight expression were any indication.
