Redeeming the Reclusive Earl - Virginia Heath Page 0,32
on to the porch, clearly in no mood to take no for an answer and clearly put out at having to do it.
At a loss as to what else she could do without appearing horrendously rude and supremely ungrateful in front of his charming sister, Effie was forced to surrender and ignore the alcohol in her system which was encouraging her to tell him the truth and to hell with the consequences—that he was the absolute last person she wanted to spend another moment with after tonight’s performance. He was as changeable as the wind and infuriatingly obnoxious.
‘Thank you.’
He nodded and they began to walk down the steps. By tacit agreement, they did this with a good six feet of the cool summer air between them. The awkward silence deafening; the atmosphere so thick you could cut it with a knife.
The front door clicked closed behind them and still he said nothing, apparently content to make her feel uncomfortable for the duration. They were halfway across the lawn when something inside her caused her tenuous grasp on her temper to snap. Probably, she was prepared to concede, fuelled almost entirely by the sherry.
‘If it is your mission to make me feel wretched whenever I am in your presence, then you have thoroughly succeeded, Lord Rivenhall!’
He seemed shocked at the suggestion. ‘It was not my intention.’
‘Of course it was. You glare, seethe and grunt at and disapprove of everything, making no secret of the fact you find my company a tremendous chore. Thanks to you I had a dreadful evening—so well done!’ He didn’t need to like her. Effie was quite used to people not liking her—but would it kill him to be polite? She had been an invited guest after all. ‘So did your poor sister, who most certainly did not deserve it! Your appalling behaviour made it awful for the both of us.’
Incensed and humiliated, Effie suddenly stopped dead. ‘For the record, I was told you extended the invitation. Had I realised it was nothing to do with you, I would never have dared encroach on your precious privacy. Rest assured, I shan’t encroach upon it again. You can rot in that house all alone for all I care, because you do not deserve visitors! You are a horrible man, Lord Rivenhall! A rude, obnoxious, churlish...’ There really weren’t enough insulting adjectives to fling at him. ‘Boorish, selfish...’
‘And let’s not forget glaring, seething, grunting and disapproving.’
‘How could I?’ Of its own accord her finger jabbed him in the arm. It was as solid as granite and did not yield an inch. ‘Are we all supposed to suffer simply because you are angry at the world? You should be heartily ashamed of yourself!’
She was expecting retaliation. Instead, he stared down at his feet. Awkwardly.
‘Would it make you feel better to know that I am?’ Then he sighed and raked a hand through his long hair. ‘You caught me at a bad time this evening. I was not...in any state to receive visitors.’
‘Are you ever?’ Not really her business and not at all what she should have said at his lacklustre almost-apology.
‘No. Never.’ He sighed again and stared up at the moon. ‘And it’s been so long I’ve forgotten how to do it.’
‘You haven’t forgotten. You choose to behave like that to push people away.’ Again, thanks to the liberating effects of the alcohol, her mouth seemed to be on a mission to bait him.
More silence but she watched myriad emotions play on his face before he nodded.
‘You’re very perceptive for a genius, Miss Nithercott.’
‘And what is that supposed to mean?’
‘That all of the excessively learned people I have ever encountered usually know a great deal about things most of us mere mortals cannot comprehend, but have little understanding of things beyond books. Like people and what makes them human.’ He slanted her a glance that wasn’t the least bit angry for once. ‘I meant that as a compliment by the way—before you tear me off another strip.’
‘You deserved tearing off a strip. And when you go home you need to apologise to your sister. It is obvious she cares a