“I don’t spy on people.”
“Perhaps the people of Pesha would look at it differently.” She could see he had no idea what she meant. “Let me explain something to you, whatever your name is. I am not a savage for you to study.” She looked away for a moment, then back again. “When I think of the way you sat and watched me while I was at MacTarvit’s. And in here I…I helped you while you were ill.” She took a step away from him, as though she didn’t want to get too close. “I am not one of your savages who you think have quaint and fascinating customs. I am an American, a very rich American, and if you write anything about me, I will sue you.”
He blinked at her a few times, then stepped away from the door. “I will not write about you, Miss Willoughby. Good-bye, and I wish you all the luck in the world with your duke.”
She didn’t acknowledge his remark as she walked out of the room.
Chapter Ten
When Claire reached the house the family was already seated at dinner. She didn’t bother to go to her room and change out of her dress, grimy now from having been worn for so many days. Nor did she notice the way the servants looked at her. She walked to the dining room doors, put her hand out to open one, and the footman stopped her.
“Her Grace says that the diners are not to be disturbed,” the man said.
Claire looked up at him. “When I am duchess I will remember who you are,” she said quietly.
The footman opened the door for her.
She marched straight to Harry, seated at the head of the table. They were just starting on the soup course. “I must see you,” she said.
Claire had been in the British Isles long enough to know that no one ever, under any circumstances, interrupted an Englishman at his dinner. It was so much a rule that no one had bothered to think of it as a rule. It was not done, probably had never been done, probably had never been thought of being done
Harry was so shocked that he just sat there and looked at her. His mouth was a bit open and he had his soupspoon suspended in midair.
“I want to see you now. At once,” she said.
She didn’t look at the other people at the table, but she was well aware that they were staring at her, shocked at this breach of etiquette. Claire had no doubt that she was probably reinforcing their ideas of Americans as barbarians.
Harry put his spoon down, pushed his chair back, and followed her out of the room. “What has happened?” he asked, for he was convinced that only death could have caused this commotion.
“I must talk to you.”
Harry’s heart began to pound. He didn’t think that her news had to do with his mother. Surely he would have been told first if anything had happened to her. The second thing that came to his mind was that Claire was here to break off their engagement. He dreaded that. If he lost his little American heiress, his mother would be angry, possibly more than angry.
By the time they reached the blue drawing room, Harry was prepared for the worst. If something had happened to make her want to break the engagement, he would do what he could to change her mind. Maybe it was his mother’s rules against having trays brought to the rooms. If that was what was wrong, Harry thought he might go against his mother’s wishes and allow Claire to have meals in her room if that’s what she wanted.
He closed the door behind him and leaned against it. “What is it?”
To his surprise, Claire threw herself at him, wrapping her arms about his chest and holding him to her. It took him a moment to realize that the danger was over. He held her at arms’ length. “What has happened?”
She began talking but she was so incoherent that it was a moment before he understood what she was saying. He heard the word Trevelyan, and Harry almost laughed in relief. Was that all that was wrong with her? His brother could enrage a saint. His brother had enraged men—to be fair, it was mostly men—from one end of the world to the other.
“What has Vellie done now?” he asked, dropping his hands from her shoulders.
“I have been with him.” She wasn’t crying but he could feel her shaking. It was his experience that Trevelyan often made people shake with rage or some other emotion.
“Been with him?” Harry said softly and thought about the words. “Do you mean to marry him?”
Claire pulled away from him. “Marry him? Are you out of your mind?”
Again relief swept over Harry. “We will wait and see what happens. If you find that you are with child then we’ll be married sooner than we’d planned. I’ll pass the child off as mine and—”
She looked at him in horror. “What are you talking about?”
“If you have been with him, then…”
Claire began to laugh at that. “Oh, Harry, you are funny. I don’t mean that I’ve been with him, I mean that for the last few days I wasn’t sick, I was with Trevelyan. He was ill and I was nursing him.”
“Oh,” was all that Harry could say. He didn’t want Claire to know that he hadn’t known that she’d been ill. He had come in from his horse-buying trip but hours ago and his main concern had been his dinner. He had noticed that she was not at the dinner table, but with Claire that was not unusual. He didn’t understand Americans and he had no inclination to try to understand one. If she didn’t want to eat dinner, that was her prerogative.