Defying The Earl. Anabelle Bryant

deceiving, as thoroughly as promises and vows.”

      There was a note of finality akin to the sharp edge of Dashwood’s statement that destroyed any further debate of the subject.

      Coupled with service of the main course, a deep silence fell over their portion of the table as everyone appeared riveted by the fine plate of wine-steeped venison with curried carrots and parsnip puree.

      Except every few minutes, Wilhelmina noticed Fiona eyed Leonard with a sorrowful glance meant to convey disappointment and worse, doubt of the young man’s attentions. Wilhelmina wanted to seize the silver epergne from the center of the table and strike Lord Dashwood across the forehead for all his thoughtless interference. If the man could not perceive how besotted Fiona and Leonard were with each other, it was no wonder he remained a bachelor. And his views of marriage seemed abominable. Despite his landholdings, the earl would prove a poor choice for future matchmaking endeavors.

      Wilhelmina regained her focus. If Fiona suddenly entertained the possibility Leonard no longer favored her, chance at success would dissolve along with further recommendations for matchmaking; therefore funding Livie’s treatments would become virtually impossible. Disaster loomed like a lingering storm cloud over an outdoor wedding. Eminent recovery was needed. Anything to repair the damage inflicted by Lord Dashwood’s thoughtless comments.

      “I feel terribly warm.” Wilhelmina brought the back of her hand to her forehead and strove for a tone of concern and oncoming weakness. “I believe I’ll visit the retiring room for a moment’s respite. Will you be so kind as to accompany me, Fiona? I would hate to discover I am more overcome than I originally suspected.” With a dramatic sway, Wilhelmina rose from the table, nodding to the gentlemen who offered her the same courtesy, and started toward the door.

      “Of course.” Fiona stood as the gentlemen to her right and left followed in kind. She folded her napkin neatly beside her plate and then with nothing more than a fleeting glance in Leonard’s direction, joined Wilhelmina. She placed a comforting hand at Wilhelmina’s shoulder as if to guide her from harm’s path.

      Once in the hallway, all pretense of weakness evaporated and Wilhelmina straightened her shoulders and reclaimed her composure, steering Fiona toward the retiring room with renewed determination. “I pray you didn’t give Lord Dashwood’s insensitive remarks a second consideration. The earl harbors an unpredictable and conflicted side to his personality. I would not doubt Lord Rigby’s attentions.”

      They’d reached the empty retiring room and Wilhelmina led Fiona inside.

      “You are feeling unwell?”

      Fiona’s question expressed true concern and Wilhelmina fought against a wave of conscience. Matchmaking was a dirty business. A little subterfuge was necessary in the name of good intentions.

      “Never mind me, I’m fine. I wanted to separate from the dining room so we could speak in private. Are you unsettled by the recent dinner conversation? I have no cause to believe you should doubt Lord Rigby’s intention.”

      “However can you be sure?” Fiona disentangled herself and walked to the oval looking-glass on the wall above the water basin. “Leonard did nothing to dissuade Dashwood he held any genuine sentiment toward me. He might have objected in a stronger tone. I fear the man of my heart has as little principle as the earl possesses good taste.”

      “Oh posh. However could Leonard defend your honor and your deep-felt emotion if the earl interrupted him at every word? We weren’t able to hear what your dear-heart had to say because Dashwood wouldn’t hold his wagging tongue.” Wilhelmina took a fortifying breath and released it through clenched teeth. How dare the earl sabotage her sincere efforts by inserting his misguided opinion of marriage with a few poorly placed comments? The man was proving a nuisance. Upset she pulled him into a mud puddle? Not at all. He deserved worse. “I wouldn’t consider Dashwood’s suggestions a minute longer.”

      “I’m not so sure. I desire a man who will battle for my hand and uphold my honor.” Fiona pinched her cheeks to a soft pink before fluffing a few curls near her left ear. “How will I know Leonard is truly marriage material if he will not speak proudly of his affections?” She glanced in Wilhelmina’s direction with questioning eyes before returning to the mirror to continue her attentive ministrations. She spent an indulgent amount of time adjusting her earbobs.

      “I daresay this is all a misunderstanding instigated by Dashwood’s careless remarks.” Good heavens, Fiona needed a strong dose of practicality. Wilhelmina reminded herself of the goal. Twice. “You are ethereal and beautiful, and any gentleman would be lucky to receive your favor. I’m sure Leonard is biting his tongue, the dinner meal as bland as ashes in his mouth, because he was unable to express his true feelings. May I suggest a remedy? Have you received an invitation to Lady Bitford’s garden party tomorrow? Do you plan to attend?” She pushed forward, unwilling to allow Fiona to diffuse her plan of attack. “We shall confront the issue away from the distractions of this dinner affair, when I am certain your Leonard will show no lack of verbosity. A garden party is the perfect arena for a besotted gentleman to express his devotion. Will you be in attendance?”