“See?” he muttered. “I cannot control this. Mrs. Glendoe,” he spoke more loudly. He nodded to the lady and her daughter. “Miss Glendoe, good afternoon.”
Both ladies smiled, dropping appropriate curtseys. “Good afternoon Mr. Grant. What a fine day to be shopping in town.”
Sara’s eyes flew open when she felt strong fingers close around her elbow. Surprised, she looked up at Mr. Grant to see him smiling at the two ladies; she could smell the insincerity of it. “Actually,” he said, “I was just discussing with Miss Collins the preference for avoiding crowds.”
Mrs. Glendoe twittered, adding a sharp glance at her before saying. “Oh, Miss Collins, I did not notice you there.”
Sara instinctively stepped back, but that put her back right up against Mr. Grant’s front. He was every bit as solid as he had been the few days prior. Even through the layers of clothing, heat spread from where they touched and his grip tightened on her elbow, giving her an encouraging squeeze.
Mrs. Glendoe turned her attention back to him. “What brings you into the mercantile today, sir?”
“The pleasurable company, of course.”
How could she tell that he was being sarcastic? Both the Glendoes smiled at his comment, but Sara knew deep down that he didn’t mean a word he said. But it definitely was what the older lady wanted to hear. Miss Glendoe met Sara’s eyes, her gaze apologetic.
Mrs. Yardley finished with another customer, meaning only one more customer until Sara’s turn. She stepped forward, noting that Mr. Grant stepped with her and that the Glendoe ladies followed him. One more, one more, one more. She tamped down the urge to flee the shop; she hadn’t waited this long for Mrs. Yardley to run away now.
“Is there anything you need help finding?” Mrs. Glendoe asked. She pushed her daughter toward him. “My daughter is quite familiar with the shop.”
“Mother,” Miss Glendoe said in an exasperated whisper. She gave Mr. Grant a rueful look.
“Actually,” Mr. Grant said, using his grip on Sara’s elbow to pull her closer, “Miss Collins has already agreed to help me find some new ribbons. My niece’s birthday is approaching.”
What?
He looked down at her, the piercing blue chilling her. “Come Miss Collins, I have no talent for this.” He dragged her away from the Glendoes. Sara looked forlornly over her shoulder as the men who had been behind her stepped up and took her place.
“Where are the ribbons?” Mr. Grant asked. Unable to do anything else, Sara pointed at their location and he led her there. “We must make this look genuine.”
They stopped and Sara stared at the assortment of colors; the height of the shelf shielded them from the others in the shop. He had done it again, acted without thought to her desires, treating her as a lesser being who had no say over her own life. An ache was growing in her chest that had nothing to do with the ants or noose; indeed, this ache was displacing them, allowing her to breathe. Her chest rose and fell with this foreign indignation and the back of her eyes began to burn with anger.
He kept talking. “You rescued me. I cannot fully express my gratitude.”
Sara found her voice. It was tight and quiet, laced with resentment. “I doubt being forced into doing something would be considered a genuine rescue.”
“Ah, she speaks. I wondered when that would happen today.”
She ignored that, choosing to focus on her present anger. “I had been waiting for Mrs. Yardley for nearly twenty minutes.” She could not keep the heat from her voice. “It was nearly my turn to be assisted and you dragged me over here, to something I have no wish to look at.”
“Tsk, and speaking with anger. How intriguing.”
Sara was still staring at the ribbons, not seeing them. “Why is it you believe I deserve such treatment from you? Every encounter I have with you leaves me feeling humiliated and dismissed.”
“Every encounter . . . Sara?”
At the sound of him saying her name, she looked up to see him watching her intently, a pair of white ribbons, the exact shade of those from her ruined bonnet, dangling from the hand he was holding up.
He took a step closer and lowered his voice. “Society would say I owe you an apology, but I make it habit to not regret the things I do.”