Free Two Corinthians by Carola Dunn Page A

Claire was distressed by this spirited exchange.
    “I apologise, my lord,” she said with stiff dignity, which was spoiled when she added, “I did not realise that gentlemen were so averse to being kissed.”
    Mr Harrison snickered, George shouted with laughter, and Lord Pomeroy was surprised into a chuckle.
    “It depends who is doing the kissing,” he said wickedly. When she pouted, he added, “Come, let us cry friends, Miss Elizabeth. I cannot be heroically rescuing one sister and coming to cuffs with the other on the same morning. It is too exhausting by far.”
    Lizzie was incapable of holding a grudge. She took his offered arm, noting as she did so that Mr Harrison was scowling at her. As they strolled on she mentioned this to her companion.
    “Cousin Horace is as eager as Aunt Dorothy for me to marry poor Amelia,” he explained wryly. “He imagines that while I might let a mere cousin sink in the River Tick, I am more likely to feel obliged to haul my wife’s brother out.”
    “Would you?”
    He raised his eyebrows at this. “Pray do not take offence again, ma’am, but you have a devilish blunt tongue!”
    “And you ought not to use that word in the presence of a lady.”
    “Touché,” he acknowledged, grinning.
    “I suppose it was an impertinent question,” she admitted. “However, if you did not want me to ask, you ought not to have told me about Horrid Horace.”
    “You are quite right, very bad ton washing the family linen in public,” he said, with a puzzled frown, “and I cannot think why I did. Still, you deserve an answer, though it will scarce enlighten you. Since I have not the remotest intention of paying my addresses to Amelia, I see no need to make a decision as to Horrid Horace’s fate.”
    “You are quite nice when you are not on your high ropes. Poor Amelia. I expect I had better look about for a husband for her as well.”
    “As well?”
    “As well as for myself,” she said hastily. Somehow she did not want to explain to Lord Pomeroy that she intended to try to find a suitor for Claire.
    “I predict that it will not prove a difficult task to find a husband for you, provided you manage to keep your candour under control!”
    Lizzie decided that this was the nearest she was likely to come to a compliment from Lord Pomeroy, so she accepted it gracefully. “I shall be more careful in Town,” she said, then added with the devastating forthrightness he had just warned against, “You see, I should hate to disgrace Claire, but I do not mind in the least if people think Mama has brought me up badly.”
    To her delight, though he shook his head he laughed aloud.
    Later, on the way back to the house, she whispered triumphantly to Claire, “I made him laugh aloud! He is human after all.”
    This opinion was confirmed some time after Lord Pomeroy and his cousins took their leave. Alfie bashfully approached Lizzie and Claire and thrust at each of them a small package wrapped in brown paper.
    “Open now,” he urged, his face pink with excitement. “Presents.”
    Each parcel contained a pair of gloves of York tan leather, warm and practical yet elegant. Before Lizzie could voice her fear that Alfie must have stolen them, he was eagerly explaining.
    “Mr Lord give me money,” he said. “When I tell Miss Claire ‘bout big horse. I want to buy presents for my misses , di’n’t know what to get, so axed Mr Lord. He di’n’t mind, Miss Claire, honest. He went to the village with me an’ help me choose. Said gloves is un—unceptable present for a young lady. They all right? All right, Miss Lizzie?”
    “Perfect, Alfie,” Lizzie assured him, trying them on. “Look, they fit beautifully.”
    “Thank you, dear Alfie,” said Claire. “His lordship was right, they are quite unexceptionable and most welcome.”
    Alfie went off with a spring in his step, and they turned to each other.
    “I saw these in the shop last week and coveted them,” said Lizzie, “but I decided they were