The Wicked Guardian by Vanessa Gray Read Free Book Online

damask draperies—except that she could see them only dimly through her tears.
    “If I had to deal with such a female as you,” Benedict continued, “I would—”
    Clare had had enough. Her pride, of which she had a good deal, prodded her now, and she took a shuddering breath and turned to face him.
    Eyebrows or not, Penryck or not, he had no right to scold her as he did. And she would not allow it. She forced a smile, and crossed the room to stand before him, the marquetry table between them. Leaning forward, hands on the table, she told him with all the sweetness at her command, “But you don’t.”
    A tiny muscle worked at the corner of his mouth.
    “You do not have to deal with me, Cousin,” she said, “and believe me, you never will.”
    Through clenched jaws he gritted, “Thank God for that!”

5 .
    Upon this tense scene, the two participants glaring fiercely at each other over the small table, entered Lady Thane. She hesitated almost imperceptibly at the sight, before sweeping in with her hand extended to Lord Choate.
    “My dear sir,” she exclaimed, “Darrin told me you had called, and I must apologize for keeping you waiting.”
    “It is no matter, Lady Thane,” said Benedict stiffly. “I did not expect you to trouble yourself. I merely restored Miss Penryck to you.”
    “Restored?” echoed Lady Thane. “How is this?”
    Clearly Benedict was seething, she thought, and a feeling of dismay smote her. What had the child done now? The fact that her earlier forebodings looked in a fair way to be justified did nothing to mollify her.
    “I am sure Miss Penryck will wish to tell you herself,” said Benedict, looking directly at Clare.
    Clare had every intention of doing so, but she would not embark upon her narrative of the afternoon’s doings upon Benedict’s direction, as though she were a delinquent pupil dancing to the tune of the schoolmaster. But Lady Thane just now noticed Clare’s torn dress. “My dear child,” she cried out, in real concern, “what does this mean?”
    Outrageously, Benedict said, “Just so, ma’am.” With a few more words, and strongly repressing a wish to box the child’s ears, he took his leave. Not until much later that day, while examining a box of books that had been delivered from Egerton, did it occur to him to wonder just why his anger had flared up to such a pitch. The accident had not been the child’s fault, and he had been gothic in his reaction.
    The wide blue eyes that had very prettily looked their thanks swam before his eyes, but memory instantly transmuted them into the flashing sapphire glance that had next put him in his place.
    Was it merely the shock of finding someone—a mere chit of a girl at that—who told him to mind his own affairs? He didn’t think so. But no other reason occurred to him. His servant discreetly reminded him that he was due in Mount Street to dine with his betrothed and her mama in an hour. It was a duty he did not relish, considering that a lifetime spent having dinner with Marianna was sufficient, without anticipating. But he sighed, and began to dress.
    In the meantime, Lady Thane had succeeded in eliciting from her goddaughter the details of her accident. “And you came home in tatters!” cried Lady Thane. “With Lord Benedict Choate!”
    “I am dreadfully sorry if that was wrong, Lady Thane, but truly I did not know quite what to do, with Budge in flapping hysterics, and I could not calm her. I could not even think what to do!” Clare collapsed into a chair, and occupied herself by drawing together the edges of the rent sustained when she toppled to the pavement.
    “I wish you would send Budge back to the country,” said Lady Thane crossly, diverted by a subject on which she had strong feelings. “The wench is less than useless, dear Clare, for she does not know the best way to dress your hair, and she trembles when one speaks to her. I daresay that is the way of Penryck Abbey, but I cannot think it is good