Page 28 of In Compromise with the Earl
“Speaking with you is lovely,” Aphrodite assured him. “But I do find myself wanting to speak with Lord Curmudgeon.”
Laughing, Lord Eaton ushered her back toward the Manor. “If he is inside, I may engineer a visit for you. My best wishes.”
Mine too. But will Oswald want to speak with me?
Chapter Ten
It was shameful how scarlet-tinged jealously had flashed across his vision at seeing Aphrodite with Quentin. He was not jealous by nature, yet the thought of any other man with her made him want to growl like an unchained beast.
His fists clenched. The reaction was not rational nor was it warranted—but it had come out anyway. Worst of all, Lady Fairchild had seen it, thankfully, she took it to mean something else.
“What an upsetting tart,” she scoffed while they entered the Manor. “Greeting you without acknowledgement like the uncultured hoyden she is. You were right to look down on her for such an impolite move. Mark my words, she will leave here as unmatched as she arrived.”
While she spoke, Oswald was mulling over his reaction and felt guilt close over his chest. Aphrodite was only doing what she was supposed to be doing, but there he was like the troglodyte she had once called him, growling over her like she was his property. He had to apologize to her—and Quentin as well.
“Hm,” Lady Fairchild looked around. “Would you like to have some tea and talk for a while, My Lord?”
He shook his head. “I—another time, perhaps? I realized what Lord Easton meant and I must speak with him.”
She gave him a narrow-eyed, suspicious look but waved him off. “If you must, but I would bargain that in exchange, you will be my dinner partner tonight.”
“Done,” Oswald stepped aside and bowed. “Good afternoon, My Lady.”
He strode away while feeling the weight of her gaze resting on the back of his neck. Her questioning gaze mattered little to him as he retraced his steps to see if Aphrodite had left the garden—only to nearly tumble into her again when he strode around a corner.
Quentin reacted quickly and swiftly pulled her aside or all three of them would have gone down in a heap.
“Where is the fire?” Lord Easton jested. “Under your feet, perhaps?”
“You could very well say that.” Oswald raked a hand through his hair. “I’m glad I found you because I must apologize for Lady Fairchild. Her behavior earlier was unwarranted.”
With perpetual cheer, Quentin nodded. “I accept your apology.”
“I too accept your apology,” Aphrodite said. “But why do I sense that there is more that you are apologizing for?”
Looking at her knowing gaze, Oswald could not bear to answer before the other Lord. Quentin cleared his throat. “I do believe that is a conversation for you two, alone. Excuse me.”
Oswald looked over her shoulder to Lydia, who was pointedly studying a flower, then went back to patiently waiting for Aphrodite. “Must I say it?”
She shook her head. “Perhaps I was mistaken in seeing that jealous flash across your face. It’s fine”
“No,” his teeth ground, “it’s not. I should not have acted that way, it was unbecoming of me.”
“It didn’t look that way to me,” Aphrodite said. “In fact, you seemed quite happy to have her in your arms and have her turn her pristine nose up at me.”
“What? That was the farthest thing from the truth—” Oswald replied, but then spotted her expression. “Are you jealous?”
“I am not jealous,” she stated, the lie making her words come out thick, strained and blatantly obvious. “You may do as you please.”
“Really?” he said, taking a step toward her, and she stepped back. “I dare you to convince me otherwise.”
She scowled. “I do not have to do a thing.”
“And now, you are the one who is lying,” Oswald said pointedly. “Or should I not now point that out?”
“You may say all you would like,” Aphrodite said. “I am irritated with that Lady who insulted me to my face. There is no jealousy in any of that.”
“I thought—possibly erroneously—that you had passed the point of getting up in arms when your father is mentioned,” Oswald dropped his tone to a sympathetic one.
