“I’ll not have her on the road at night.” And with that final pronouncement, Whit excused himself from the room.
Looking somewhat preoccupied, Mr. Fletcher gave Evie what he apparently thought was an encouraging smile and followed Whit. Lady Thurston and Mrs. Summers, exchanging heated whispers, rose from their respective seats, stopped to place reassuring kisses on Evie’s cheek, and made their exits as well.
Evie was so taken aback by the news she’d actually be leaving Haldon, it took a minute to realize she’d been left in the room with only McAlistair for company.
And he was staring at her again.
She scrambled for something to say. Preferably something that would, at the very least, induce him to blink. It was unnerving the way his dark eyes focused on her—almost as unnerving as her reaction. She swore she could actually feel her heart trying to beat its way out of her chest.
“I…You…” She swallowed hard. “You’ve b-been well, I hope?”
He gave one small nod and did not, she couldn’t help noticing, inquire after her own well-being. The blighter.
“Well, I am delighted to hear it,” she ground out, and moved to walk around him.
He caught her arm as she passed. “You’re angry.”
Furious, actually, but still sensible enough to realize some of that anger might be unwarranted. She opened her mouth, but before she could attempt to explain, or try to reach some sort of understanding between them, he let go of her arm and gave that small nod again.
“Good.”
She blinked at him, utterly astounded. “Good?” That was his response when faced with the possibility of her ire? Good? “You want me t-to be angry with you?”
“For the best.”
“Well, far be it from me to disappoint a guest,” she snapped, and brushed past him out the door.
Three
The trouble with having a limp was that it was nearly impossible to execute a proper stomping. That wasn’t the only trouble, of course, but it was the inconvenience that most vexed Evie at present.
Gritting her teeth, she continued down the hall in the slow, short steps required to maintain an even gait. After severely injuring her leg in a carriage accident, her stride would never be perfectly smooth. But unless one was actively looking for the slight dip of her frame or listening for the brief drag of her foot, one wasn’t likely to notice her limp. That was all well and good, but slow, short steps and an even slightly dragging foot made it exceedingly difficult for her to storm off with the sort of haughty disdain the situation clearly warranted.
Good, indeed.
She threw open the door to her room, stepped inside, and slammed the door behind her. The resulting noise provided a small amount of satisfaction.
Glaring in the general direction of the study, she tried desperately to sort out her fractured feelings. She was livid, which went without saying, but not all that anger was directed at McAlistair. A fair amount of it was reserved for her own foolish behavior.
What the devil had she been thinking all these months, that McAlistair would return to Haldon with a fistful of flowers and a book of poetry to recite? Had she expected words of love, public courtship, perhaps an offer of marriage? She turned her glare to the back of the door and briefly wondered how much it might hurt if she kicked it. Too much, she decided, and crossed the room to drop down in an overstuffed chair.
She didn’t want to marry, she reminded herself. And it had only been a kiss. A single kiss from a man she barely knew. Obviously he understood as much and likely recognized that she had mistakenly built it into something more. So he sought her anger rather than face her infatuation.
How utterly mortifying.
He might have attempted some diplomacy, she thought glumly, but then he was a hermit, not a barrister. And it was hardly McAlistair’s fault she’d turned their brief encounter in the woods into a fairy tale. He certainly wasn’t to blame for the fascination she’d had since the day she first spotted him, years ago, sitting on an outcropping of rock, quietly skinning a rabbit. He’d been little more than a myth to her until that moment—a story Whit had concocted to scare and entertain the young ladies of Haldon. A mysterious former soldier haunting the woods of Haldon. A wild man, dark and dangerous, hiding away from the world. They weren’t to fear him, they’d been told, but they were to keep a respectable distance should they cross his path.