“Ah, there you are.” Morgan’s boots clicked on the wooden floor at a quickened pace.
Joan paused in her steps and turned toward the sound. “Yes. I only this moment arrived,” she replied, her tone clipped even as she tried to be polite. It wasn’t her brother’s fault she was in a sour mood.
Morgan slowed his progress and studied her. The lines on his forehead drew together as he frowned a moment, then nodded as if understanding dawned. “You’ve seen it, then.”
It was Joan’s turn to frown as confusion momentarily distracted her from irritation. “Seen what, exactly?”
“The papers? Well, theTattler. Not sure I should call that by the same name as theTimes.” He shrugged.
“The society papers? Good mercy, what have they said this time?” She stopped a fraction shy of an eye roll. Her patience was wearing thinner by the moment.
Morgan rocked on his heels once. “So you haven’t. Then why the devil are you acting like you’re angry?”
“Turns out I have other concerns than the on-dit of the moment.”
“Even ifyouare the on-dit of the moment?”
Joan paused her next breath. “Pardon?”
“Come, follow me.” Morgan turned and headed toward his study. “I have the sheet on my desk.”
Joan followed him down the hall and through the open door of his study. The cheerful light was the opposite of her mood. Morgan lifted a single sheet from his desk. The print was familiar, the same gossip publication that had been circulating for the past half a year. Joan plucked it from her brother’s hands and began to read.
If the eyes are the window to the soul, then there was some soul reading that happened last night at the Moorson ball. This author suspects that more than one match will be made from the couples dancing last night, perhaps one in particular. Miss L was clearly enamored of a certain viscount. However, it wasn’t only the spark of attraction that was lit last night. Apparently for another couple a quarrel, rather than attraction, was also ignited. This author may have to retract her earlier words regarding the affections of the Duke of W with a certain lady who recently had her debut. If last night’s dance is an accurate representation of their true feelings, one might wonder if the line between affection and anger is closer than originally thought.
Joan slapped the page onto the desk with more force than necessary and growled low in her throat. “Of all the…” She wasn’t sure how to finish the sentence. Nothing seemed an accurate representation of her anger toward the author.
Or herself.
Because it wasn’t anything but the truth.
And, if anyone should approve of truth being told, it ought to be her, oughtn’t it? How ironic and dreadful that she was on the receiving end of someone else’s keen observation of truth.
Drat and drat again.
“If we are to look for a silver lining, at least now we needn’t worry about society gleaning the wrong impression about your acquaintance with the duke,” Morgan stated with far too much cheer for her taste.
Wrong impression. Too bad she was among the ranks of the poorly impressed. Or the misunderstood. It didn’t matter which; her irritation didn’t change.
Now everyone knew, or at least suspected, which added a deeper layer that was like an itchy chemise, rubbing her wrong. Because any of her true feelings of frustration or even attempts to address the situation with the duke couldn’t happen, at least not in public. Society loved a feud more than romanticism, and she’d be watched more closely than ever if in his presence.
Which, she reminded herself, was a bigif. He very well might not wish to dance with her anymore or pay any visits that could potentially lead to deep and meaningful conversations.
Why did everything always come full circle? She’d already mused these thoughts, and yet they continued to surface.
“It is unfortunate, but it’s not a total loss. It wasn’t as if you had a great friendship or affection for him. Give him space in society, and this will all wash out in a week or less.”
Joan worried her lip. “I see.”
She sighed, then lifted the discarded page and reread it. Had she appeared that angry with him? Certainly, he had seen the same thing then. If so, wouldn’t it be the gentlemanly thing to come and apologize?
Of course, that only worked under the assumption that he had done something wrong.
Which he hadn’t. Technically, he hadn’t done anything wrong other than offend her.
That was, unfortunately, subjective. Not set in stone.
She sighed again, then turned her attention to her brother.