Did he? Because she’d hardly said anything. But she had a feeling that despite her lack of words, she’d managed to bungle her answer terribly.
Ken rose from his seat, pulling on the edges of his jacket. She stood too, her brow furrowing. “You’re not leaving already, are you?”
He shook his head. “I think perhaps I should.”
“But our next boon…” She waved her hand uselessly.
“I forfeit to you. I’ll escort you to the event of your choosing.”
One of her hands pressed against her stomach. Why did this win feel like a loss?
* * *
Ken was a fool.
He nearly stomped toward the door, wishing that he’d listened to her lesson better before he’d gone and blurted out his intentions.
Read the other players.What was Mirabelle? Competitive. And what did she want? To prove those other ladies wrong. And how did she plan to do it? By being a glowing success. But wouldn’t marrying him make her so?
Had he said that?
He stopped. What was his strength? She’d said strategy. The long game.
He hadn’t played either.
Which made him doubly foolish. He nearly turned around. Went back to the sitting room. He knew what she wanted, understood her goal, and he’d played all wrong.
But a familiar voice stilled his feet.
Was that Somersworth? “What do you think he needs to speak with us about? It’s only been a few days.”
“Whatever it is, I’m guessing it’s not good,” Upton answered, their voices moving closer. He straightened his shoulders, knowing that both men were headed toward him.
“Do you think Boxby will be here—” Somersworth appeared before him. “Speak of the devil.”
“Boxby,” Upton said with a short nod. That’s as emphatic as the man got.
“Upton,” he returned with a smile.
“You got called here too?”
He could lie, he supposed, but his friends would soon know the truth. He already knew why Ace had called them here. He’d heard everything from East yesterday. “No.”
“Here to see Lady Mirabelle?” Somersworth said, his lip curling the slightest bit.
“What is your issue with Mirabelle?” Ken asked, his arms crossing. “And why is it your concern if I see her?”
“I have no issue with her in particular. My issue is with you. You’re finally free to join us and you’re going to choose—” He threw his hands up. “Never mind.”
“I do mind,” Boxby answered. “If you no longer wish to be my friend, I understand, but I need you to know that I plan to pursue the lady.” His shoulders slumped. “I very well may not succeed…”
“What?” Upton asked, his brow drawing down. “How would that even be possible?”
He would not explain to even his friends about Mirabelle’s past but he could say this. “I’ve already asked her to marry me and she said no.” Well, not exactly. But close enough.
“What?” came Somersworth’s outraged reply. “She said what?”
Boxby shook his head. “Why would you care?”