Free A Spy's Honor by Charlotte Russell Page B

family.
    Left arm tucked behind his back, he approached the window and said her name softly. Then, “I wanted to offer my condolences on your father’s passing. I know your feelings for him were conflicted, but I should have sent a note at the time.”
    She glanced up and murmured, “Thank you for the polite thought, but as I’m sure you can imagine not many mourned my father.”
    Lord Bradwell had been an egregious old fellow. However, Allerton had opened his eyes after their precipitous run for Scotland. The man had sobered and come to regret trying to marry Claire off to Lord Landry once he learned the truth.
    Not wanting her to bend her neck looking up at him, John gestured toward the window seat. She sat, not even bothering to arrange her skirts. Lowering himself to the cushion, John kept his hand behind his back though the position was awkward. “He expressed to me his deep sorrow for his actions.”
    Claire’s brown eyes flashed. “Yes, when he was sober he begged my forgiveness. It all meant naught, though, as he returned to his cups and sailed off again. I am merely thankful he saw fit to make Allerton my guardian before he cocked up his toes.” She stared out at the setting sun, her lips stretched thin. “My father is long dead and buried. Could we please discuss something else?”
    “My apologies,” John mumbled. “Might I wish you felicitations on your betrothal?” Her marriage was the last thing he wanted to discuss, but he wanted to see her delight for himself. He only wanted to see her smile. Especially that small and dreamy smile she had let escape at the dinner table.
    Her features remained drawn. “You may. I am thrilled to be engaged to Lord Kensworth.”
    She looked ill. This was not the romantic seventeen-year-old he’d known.
    He wanted to reach out and smooth the lines from her face. He wanted to kiss away her sorrows. But she sat there with her spine as straight as a broomstick and her jaw so tight that John made a concession. “He seems like a fine fellow. You met him while living at Bellemere?”
    Her face lost a bit of its pinched look. “Yes. Of course Emily and Allerton invited him to dinner when he moved into the neighborhood. Before I knew it, two years had passed. Now we are to be married.”
    John tried not to let his words sound bitter, but he seemed to have absorbed her prickly tension. “I hope he courted you as you deserved to be courted.”
    Her eyes settled on his face for the first time since they had begun to talk. Emotions swirled through the chocolate-brown irises, bewilderment chief among them. “I…well, it wasn’t a traditional courtship. He… We were the best of friends and then he suddenly asked me to marry him.”
    Interesting. But obviously not more suddenly than John had proposed.
    “But I care for Kensworth,” Claire continued, looking back out the window. “He’s made me very happy. I especially look forward to being neighbors with Emily and Allerton.”
    Of course. Her sister was everything to her. And Allerton? Did she still think so highly of him? It hadn’t escaped John’s notice how similar in looks and build Allerton and Kensworth were.
    His smile was rueful, but it was a smile nonetheless. “Then I wish you my sincerest congratulations and much happiness on your wedding day. And beyond.” He could dream about the early demise of Kensworth all he wanted, but the robust viscount was undoubtedly long for this earth. Anyway, Claire deserved happiness, and if Kensworth was the man who could give her that…
    She nodded, and John was pleased to note she no longer looked so beleaguered. Her tawny skin—no pale porcelain flesh for her—had softened, and her eyes had lost their gloomy veneer. So, he had made progress if his true goal was to see her happy. Best to quit while he was ahead and bid her goodnight.
    He rose and, out of habit, flexed his remaining fingers. “Claire—”
    “Oh, John. I had no idea of the nature of your injury.” She