Fated Folly Read Free Page A

with a suddenly intent look.
    â€˜ But it’s most odd, you know, because even though you don’t resemble Pippa, I feel—I feel as if I know you.’
    Now that she said it, Rupert was conscious of having experienced a similar sense of ease with the girl, as if they were not entirely unknown to each other. He hastened to quash the notion.
    â€˜ I believe that is readily explained. Relatives often give off an air of familiarity.’ He smiled. ‘I have met your brother, and that must explain why you do not seem quite a stranger to me.’
    â€˜ Then you feel it, too!’ Clare said wonderingly.
    He did not answer, but his eyes passed over her face in a searching look as he moved closer. Clare felt her breath catch and was conscious of an irregularity in her heartbeat. He met her gaze and seemed to hold her with the sheer power of his eye. His fingers came up and lifted her chin. His touch set her trembling inside.
    â€˜ How old are you?’ he asked, his tone unexpectedly gentle.
    â€˜ Seventeen.’
    â€˜ My God,’ he uttered softly, and a shadow crossed his face, ‘I ought to be shot.’
    Clare’s heartbeat quickened. Had she heard him correctly? She did not hesitate.
    â€˜ Why do you say that?’
    His fingers tightened, pinching her chin. Roughly, his tone almost hostile, he spoke.
    â€˜ You should not be here. Were you my niece, you would know about it.’
    Clare jerked back, slapping his fingers away. ‘I am not your niece!’
    â€˜ You are young enough to be so.’ He crossed to the still open door and held it, executing a slight bow. ‘Goodbye, Miss Carradale.’
    Heat flooded Clare’s cheeks. Compressing her lips she walked with downcast head to the door. As she reached Sir Rupert, she paused and glanced up.
    â€˜ Ogre!’ she spat.
    To her mingled fury and amazement, he smiled again and his face lit.
    â€˜ That I may very well prove to be, young lady, if you don’t run away this instant.’
    Clare threw him a baleful glance and marched from the room. The door snapped shut behind her. How dared he relegate her to the status of a child? That was hateful. But the outrage was already crumbling under the onslaught of that last smile as she fled down the stairs and gained the refuge of the little parlour.
    ***
    Â 
    Lord Carradale glared at his erring daughter over the top of his spectacles. ‘Have you taken leave of your senses, girl?’
    â€˜ Papa, don’t be cross,’ begged Clare prettily, fluttering her innocent look at him. ‘Sir Rupert was not at all put out, I assure you.’
    From the elegant Chippendale sofa came a faint moan. The wife of his lordship’s bosom sank further into the green-striped, brocade cushions and resolutely plied her fan. ‘What did I ever do, I ask you, to be saddled with such a madcap child? Oh, the mortification!’
    â€˜ But I do not at all see why you should be mortified, Mama,’ Clare protested, turning from her father where he stood before the fire—for April had just barely turned its attention to bringing the sunshine, and it was chilly in the spacious morning-room—to confront her mother. ‘I told him it was all my own idea.’
    To Clare’s irritation, Lady Carradale ignored her, addressing herself, as was her invariable custom, to her lord, just as if Clare was not present. And in those hateful piteous tones too.
    â€˜ She is devoid of sense. Has she no notion of propriety? It is all your fault. You have spoilt her to death, and now see what has come of it.’
    â€˜ But I swear to you, he was only amused, Mama. He laughed.’
    â€˜ Clare!’ uttered her father bodingly, shoving his thumbs behind his lapels and drawing himself up straighter, and assuming an expression of severity in which Clare had no belief whatsoever. ‘A chit of a girl does not—um—call upon a man in his own house