Page 7 of The Misfortunate Miss Farthington
Tessa paced the length of the drawing room the next day, her stomach in knots as her heart rollicked like a wild stallion.
“I do not see why you are so very upset over the matter.” Daphne’s confusion was clear, and Tessa wasn’t entirely sure whether she wanted to hug her cousin or shake her. How could she not see the dilemma?
“My mother did not, in fact, invite Mr. Grant to dinner,” she reminded the girl patiently.
She might not have seen her cousin often these last few years, but Tessa did not recall the girl to be a simpleton. Surely, she could see that this was a bad plan.
A very, very bad plan.
Her belly twisted with nervous anticipation even as she thought it. Bad? Yes. But she could not deny that the thought of seeing Mr. Grant again delighted her.
Daphne just about said as much. “I thought I was doing you a favor. Any nitwit could see that you two have feelings for each other.”
“Yes, but—” Tessa stopped to blink, and when her cousin’s word registered, her cheeks grew heated. “You noticed that?’
Daphne rolled her eyes.
“But did…er…” Oh dear. Tessa was not one to fumble for words. Typically. But there was nothing typical about the way she felt around Mr. Grant. “Did I seem so very foolish?”
“No,” Daphne said shortly. And then she added, “But he did.”
Tessa’s lips twitched and her heart took a dizzying leap off a cliff. “He did seem rather…distracted by me, did he not?”
Lud, Tessa could hear the hopefulness in her own voice and it made her wince.
Daphne shook her head with a sigh. “If there ever was a man any more smitten than your Mr. Grant, I’d fear for his life. Surely no one could lose his senses so thoroughly and still live to tell the tale.”
Tessa clasped her hands together with glee in a most girlish motion, but only a second passed before she recalled why this was not a time to celebrate. “My parents will never approve.”
“Only because they do not yet know him.” Daphne’s smile was deceptively innocent. “Hence, his attendance tonight.”
“But they did not invite him,” Tessa said. Again.
Daphne waved away the words as if it was a trivial matter that he’d be showing up where he was not invited.
“Cousin,” Daphne said, gripping her by the shoulders and giving her an alarmingly direct stare.
“Yes?”
“Do you or do you not wish to see Mr. Grant tonight?”
“I do. Yes.” Her chest actually constricted with a feeling of yearning just admitting it aloud. “Quite desperately.”
Daphne gripped and dropped her hands. “Then let me handle the rest.”
“But—”
“Uh uh uh.” Daphne wagged a finger. “I’ve been hearing all about your success at this School of Charm over the last year, and one thing was made clear to me—you are excellent at helping others.”
“Thank you?” Tessa found herself phrasing it as a question because Daphne’s tone suggested it was not a compliment but an accusation.
“But what is also clear is that you are abysmal at helping yourself,” Daphne continued.
Tessa blinked. “I beg your pardon.”
“Now, if I didn’t like you so much, I’d let you go on as you have been. That way you could remain the focus of our mothers’ matchmaking schemes.” Daphne pursed her lips. “I rather enjoyed not having that attention focused on me, for once, especially with my first season drawing near…”
Tessa widened her eyes in surprise. She wasn’t sure she’d ever heard Daphne speak so much, and her lips parted as she caught her meaning.
