Page 30 of Tattle Tail
Over Ardent’s shoulder, she spotted Joseph watching them. It did not escape her notice that the muscles in his jaw clenched.
“You are mistaken,” she said, growing irritated but seeing no way to tactfully walk away without causing a scene. People were watching. Her boss was watching. They needed the event to go smoothly, so she needed to smile blandly and endure a few more minutes with this insufferable male.
Be agreeable. Be pleasant.
A lifetime of her mother’s words rang in her ears.
The dance brought them together again. Hands touched. His fingers wrapped around her wrist, squeezing too tightly.
“I think not. My uncle is home, sick in bed, and he sent me to waste a ridiculous sum of credits on apiano.”
“That is generous of him. The fund supports musical education in smaller schools—”
Ardent scoffed. “He does not care about musical education. He wants to impress you.”
“I do not know why.” From her conversation with Lord Resolve, he picked her because he knew her, but any female would do. “I am not special.”
“We agree on that,” he said.
Her head ached behind her eyes.
Be amiable. Be patient.
Do not claw his smug face.
Arden continued to speak, enamored with the sound of his voice and unaware of how Peaceable struggled to maintain her composure. “I did not spend the last decade cultivating relationships with influential politicians, convincing them to restore lost property and titles for you to take it away.”
Cultivating relationships…the way he said the words made her skin crawl.
“You mean bribing,” she said.
“I did what was necessary. My uncle lost his title and birthright and did nothing. I restored it. You will not take it away from me.” As he spoke, his words gained intensity.
The music ceased.
Finally.
Peaceable tried to pull away, but Ardent would not release his grip. “The dance is over.”
“I’m not done speaking,” he said.
“I think you are, buddy.”
Joseph
“Let the lady go.” Joseph drew his shoulders back, using his height to his advantage. He disliked the man on sight. Something about the way he held himself like he was better than everyone in the room rubbed Joseph the wrong way.
Condescending. That was the word.
The male released Peaceable’s wrist. She rubbed at the tender flesh, then yanked her hand away when she caught him watching.
“Is this the guy?” he asked Peaceable, remembering how her mother kept harping on setting her up with a suitable Tal man. Joseph could never measure up, but this arrogant piece of work qualified assuitableto Peaceable’s mother.
“This is Ardent Jostaval. A benefactor,” she said.
So not the guy.
“Agenerousbenefactor,” Ardent Jostaval, galaxy-caliber jerk, interjected. “And you are?”
