Page 4 of The Moonstone Governess
She clamped her mouth shut.
“To the likes of me?” he filled in for her.
She met his gaze. “My apologies. My comment was beyond the pale.”
“Indeed, it was. May I give you some advice, since you are so eager to pile a full plate of opinions on me? When selling goods, whether a bottle of wine, a gown, such as the pretty green one you have on, a horse and carriage, or a house—whatever the merchandise, do not get caught up in sentimentality. Go for the top price you can get and be ruthless about it. Sentiment will not put food on your table or provide a roof over your head. Fight for everything you can get, because no one will admire you for taking less because of sentiment.”
“I did not realize that wound of yours was so raw. You hide your turmoil quite well behind a façade of casual indifference. It threw me for a moment. Is this why you choose to associate with those particular friends lodged with you at the inn?”
“What has Thaddius told you about them? That they are aimless and shallow?”
“Your words, Your Grace. My cousin would not say anything so unkind. I gather they are all about maintaining façades. So they will never look beyond the one you have so carefully crafted, and you like that just fine. All pretense. No questions asked. And no hearts at risk.”
“I had no idea you were such a gifted oracle,” he said with open sarcasm. “Do you also read palms? Tea leaves? Look into crystal balls?”
“Only at fairs and carnivals.” She knew she was being terribly rude and intrusive. But there was something about this man that rattled her, perhaps the emptiness she perceived in his soul.
No, not emptiness. He had too much feeling, albeit suppressed. She had it all wrong. It was not that he was empty, but too full of bad feelings he could not shed.
“I must apologize again to you,” Brenna said. “If I spoke out of turn—”
“Which you did.”
“—it is only because I am going through a bit of turmoil myself and recognized the same in you. I am trying to figure out where I ought to be. Here, with family? Or Oxford, where I enjoy my work? All I am saying is that I thought our situations were similar, and I sought to commiserate. But I was wrong. Your concerns stem from a much darker place.”
“They do, Miss Angel. I warn you, do not poke that coiled snake.”
“I assure you, I mean to keep my distance. I am quite aware it is not the snake who will be hurt in the encounter.”
“Once again, I commend you on your powers of observation,” he said. “And yet you are still giving me that gentle look of concern. I see you are not quite ready to stop asking questions. What do you expect me to do, Miss Angel? Confide in you? Upon five minutes’ acquaintance? Here’s an idea—how about we confine our topics to the weather, this marvelous scenery, and Mrs. Halsey’s teacakes?”
She nodded, surprised he had not simply stormed off, declaring her to be the most irritating young lady he had ever met. But he hadn’t, no doubt because he was determined to have her property and would stick to her like a bee to honey until he got his way.
He was still studying her, a little too closely for comfort.
What was he thinking?
He had an ability to mask his feelings, so she could not tell what was going through his mind. However, she knew that she must be irritating him, because she was denying him something he had decided, on a whim, that he wanted.
Well, he was provoking her, too.
“So it shall be, Your Grace. I shall dazzle you with my knowledge of the weather. Isn’t it a fine day? A warm sun and cool sea breeze. Nothing better for one’s lungs or general constitution. How is your constitution, by the way? Do you suffer from lumbago? Gout? An embarrassing flux in your bowels?”
His lips had been twitching, and he now burst out with a deep, rich chuckle.
“Dull enough for you, Your Grace?”
“Miss Angel, I sense you are too lively ever to be dull. But your topic of conversation… Yes, it is worthy of putting me to sleep.” A smile escaped his lips, one she found surprisingly charming.
This scared her, for she did not wish to like him, or begin to trust him.
“Excellent,” she said, continuing their pointless conversation. “As for our local scenery, do you ride out on different paths each morning or always take the same one? They somehow always lead you back to this spot, I’ve noticed. Have you found something here that stirs your soul? Or evokes a memory? Is it a sad one? Or a happy one you somehow hope to reclaim? It is those red poppies, isn’t it?” she said quite gently. “I am so sorry. What happened?”
“By heaven, you do not mince words, do you?”
“I apologize if I am too blunt. What am I to do about you when you keep riding over here? And do not dare suggest I sell my property to you.”
He sighed. “Even your questions about the weather and scenic views are barbed and loaded with meaning, Miss Angel. Can you not try harder to keep your comments to the inane and frivolous?”
