Page 53 of The Moonstone Major
Phoebe now stared at her. “Not everyone falls in love at first sight as we did. I think it isn’t so much that you do not care for him, but that you care for someone else more. Where is Major Brennan?”
Chloe tried to hide her distress. A failed endeavor, because her sisters knew her too well. “He promised me a waltz.”
“There are only two on the list for this evening,” Hen said, “and you’ve already danced one.”
Cormac joined them at that moment. “What happened? The room is abuzz with the oddest rumor, no doubt wrong, since Chloe looks nothing like a blushing bride-to-be.”
“Claymore did not propose to me,” Chloe repeated, hoping she would not be required to fend off questions all evening. “We are friends and shall stay friends, that’s all.”
He tossed Phoebe a naughty grin. “Men do not want to be friends with pretty young ladies. Chloe, you are too innocent for me to tell you what they really want to do, but you get the gist. So the bounder had no intention of offering for you after all?”
Chloe shook her head. “He did wish to propose. I cut him off and explained to him why it was all wrong.”
“Then that look of despair is for someone else?” Cormac took a sip of the ale he had in hand. “I cannot imagine who.”
Her shoulders slumped, for Cormac’s comment was sarcastic and he knew exactly who was at the root of her distress. “He promised to dance with me.”
“But he is not here. Shall Cain and I go fetch him?”
Her eyes widened in alarm. “Don’t you dare! Am I not pathetic enough? I will not have you drag him here. Besides, he is too strong for even the two of you to handle. He is a street fighter and will lay both of you low before you even have the chance to raise a fist to him. Which is precisely the problem. He refuses to court me because I am too lofty for him.”
“You are, Chloe,” Cain said, now joining them. “He will always see himself as someone’s discarded by-blow. It does not matter that he has made something of himself. Sadly, the very traits that make him worthy also prevent him from offering for you. Perhaps you ought to reconsider Claymore.”
Hen punched him in the shoulder. “Perhaps we ought to come up with a plan to change Fionn’s mind.”
“You’ll only chase him away if you press him,” Cormac said. “He isn’t ready to listen, and there is nothing you can do about it. I should know—took me three years before I came around to accepting Phoebe…or rather, stopped hating myself long enough to sober up and stop destroying myself. These feelings run deep. You cannot overcome them with cute female plots. I don’t want to make it sound hopeless, Chloe. But you have to realize what you are up against. He may take years to come around.”
“Or not come around at all,” Cain added as yet another word of caution.
When the orchestra began to play the last waltz, Chloe simply wanted to run away and hide. But Cain’s estate manager, a charming older gentleman by the name of Charles Weston, approached her for the dance. He was now married to their cousin, Prudence, who must have heard the news from her sisters and insisted Mr. Weston assume the protective mantle.
He had the good sense not to offer her advice, although he was quite clever and might have had a helpful insight. She gave it a moment’s consideration and then asked him, “Mr. Weston, since everyone else seems to have an opinion on what I ought to do, I thought perhaps you might have one, too.”
“I wish I did, Chloe. But the heart is a terribly fragile organ. It can also be temperamental and fickle.”
“Are you suggesting I am pining for Major Brennan simply because he will not have me?”
“No, my dear. In truth, I think you have shown wisdom beyond your years in choosing him. Most young ladies of your age would have set their cap for Claymore and been quite happy with their choice. But you know who you are and what you need. You are not one to be pushed into something that does not feel right to you, no matter how tempting it appears on the surface.”
“My life would be a lot simpler if I cared for Lord Claymore.”
“Not really. There is not enough of a spark between you to hold you together as anything more than dear companions. Men stray when this is all they have. Of course, Claymore would have been extremely discreet about it and remained an attentive husband. Many people are happy with such an arrangement, but you would never be. You feel things too deeply. You always have, even as a little girl.”
She would not call Mr. Weston’s advice helpful so much as encouraging. What he had said about her was true. She did feel things deeply and knew her own mind.
More important, she knew her own heart.
And her heart wanted Fionn.
His heart wanted her, too. At the very least, he needed her.
How was she going to convince him to get out of his own prideful way?
Chapter Eleven
Fionn sat aloneon the terrace at Moonstone Cottage, hoping to drink himself into oblivion. He had purposely stayed away from the church dance tonight, needing to drink at least another bottle of brandy to convince himself he was doing the right thing in breaking his promise to Chloe.
She had been nothing but hopeful ever since he had agreed to allow the Duke of Malvern to follow up with his Bow Street investigator, Mr. Barrow, about the “squidgy” inheritance matter. Since when could anyone trust anything Ducky told them?
