blow to his pride. Never in his life had he been so rudely dismissed. Come to think of it, no young lady had ever addressed him in such a manner. Wide awake, Thomas swung his legs to the floor, sat up on the side of the bed, ran his hands through his wavy dark hair, and pondered. Had he said something wrong? Done something wrong? No. As always, he’d been a perfect gentleman, The fault was hers, not his, and why he, a man secure within himself with no need to feed his vanity, should be concerned about what some little chit from Ireland thought of him, he had no idea. His life was in good order. He had no need of her, or any woman.
Only...
A sense of loss suddenly assailed him. Somehow, for some reason he could not begin to fathom, he had thought she held a modicum of affection for him. Fool that he was, he had assumed she experienced the same joy he’d experienced on the trip across Ireland. Never had he enjoyed a journey more. Conclonomaise... The Whispering Arch... had she forgotten that special look that passed between them? It was a look full of unspoken desire, of tacit attraction, or so he thought. More likely, he had been mistaken. That message of desire he’d read in those sapphire blue eyes was naught but a product of his wishful thinking.
But what about that kiss in the carriage the other night? Could it have been only his imagination that she had returned his kiss, and more than willingly? He didn’t think so.
But you’ve got to stop thinking about her.
Whatever he thought, it didn’t matter. The girl was seeking a good match, as was every girl, so who could blame her. Face it, he was not a good match and never would be. For the first time in his life, he felt a deep resentment he’d been born a second son. If only he were Montague. He knew that if he were, he would lay his wealth and title at the feet of Miss Evleen O’Fallon.
Thomas went to the window, assailed by a terrible sense of bitterness as he gazed at the gardens below.
He was not Montague, he was a lovesick fool, and it was time to return to Tanglewood Hall and see to his horses. Why wait? He would leave today, as soon as he said his farewells.
Downstairs, he encountered Penelope at the breakfast table, just finishing eggs and ham, and in a fine mood. “Good morning, Thomas,” she said, beaming at him. “Did you enjoy the ball last night?”
“I most decidedly did not,” he grumpily replied. “Just coffee,” he said to the maid as he sat down. “I shall be returning to Tanglewood Hall today.”
Penelope regarded him carefully. “I thought you planned to stay a while.”
“My horses—”
“In good hands, as you very well know what with your groom and stable boys.” She cocked her head. “It’s something else, isn’t it?”
“You’re being absurd again.”
She ignored him. “Could it be Miss O’Fallon? Oh, my word.” Her eyes went wide. “It is, isn’t it? And after what happened last night... oh, dear.”
Had something bad happened to Evleen? An uneasiness stirred within him, but he cautioned himself not to so much as blink an eye. “Really?” he asked with great casualness, “what about last night?”
“You cannot believe what happened to the poor girl. It seems she didn’t know how to dance, not even the waltz from what Montague told me. And then, as if that weren’t enough, there was some ugly business involving that awful Lord Corneale...”
When Penelope finished, Thomas smashed his fist to the table, causing his sister to jump and dishes and silver to rattle. “That randy old goat,” he declared, near-choking with indignation. “There is no way in the world she would have willingly kissed him. There’s got to be an explanation.”
“No doubt there is,” Penelope said soothingly. “I, myself, would rather kiss a toad than the infamous Lord Corneale. Come to think of it, the man resembles a toad. But why are you so angry?”
“I’m not angry in the least.” He ordered himself to calm down. If he didn’t, Penelope, with her keen perceptiveness, would guess the truth, if she hadn’t already. He watched as her face lit. Too late. Could he not have one single secret from this perspicacious female?
“Ah-ha,” she exclaimed. “You have feelings for her, don’t you?”
“They wouldn’t do me any good. Her mother is insistent upon a good match.”