Before she could respond, he continued. “You are a beautiful young woman, and I have no doubt that you will fall in love with the right man, in due time.”
“Thank you for that,” she said dryly.
He gave her a puzzled look. “Are you angry with me?”
“You are unbelievable,” she breathed.
“I would take that as a compliment, but I don’t believe you meant it as one.”
She shook her head. “Rather than supporting me in my desire to be wed, you have come out here to insult me.”
“That was not my intention.”
“Then what was?” she asked, tilting her chin stubbornly.
His jaw clenched tightly. “I am trying to protect you,” he asserted.
“From what?”
“I watched you dance with Lord Groff and saw you blatantly flirting with him,” Martin said, leaning closer to her.
“I was doing no such thing,” she declared.
“I disagree.”
“You have no right to dictate my actions. I can flirt with whomever I choose to.”
“That is a foolhardy thing to do, and you know it,” he said. “You have a reputation you must consider.”
Hannah studied him for a moment. “Have you always been this infuriating?”
“I’m afraid I don’t know how to answer that question.”
“No, I don’t suppose you would.” She took a step back. “We are friends, and if you would like to continue being so, I would suggest you stop behaving like such a jackanapes.”
Martin’s brow lifted at her words. “Hannah—”
Not waiting for what he intended to say, she brushed past him and headed into the ballroom. She came to a stop next to her sister. “I believe I have had enough for one night.”
Kate gave her a quizzical look. “Is everything all right with Martin?”
“It was nothing that I couldn’t handle, but I find my jovial mood has disappeared,” she explained.
Kate nodded. “Then let us depart.”
Martin had always considered himself to be a fairly intelligent man, but he couldn’t decipher the change that had come over Hannah these past few days. She had even chided him for attempting to help her the night before on the veranda. He felt like she was slipping away from him, and he didn’t want to lose her as a friend. She meant far too much to him.
He hated being in this predicament. Why couldn’t they just go back to the easy friendship that had always existed between them?
His mother stormed into the room, her black crepe gown flowing behind her. “Marianne is impossible!”
Martin closed the ledger on the desk in front of him. “What did she do this time?”
“She informed me that she intends to run away and join the circus if I don’t leave her be.”
Martin grinned. “That does sound like my sister.”
“Do be serious,” his mother declared as she stopped in front of the desk. “Marianne is more interested in books than anything else.”
“She does enjoy riding, as well.”
His mother frowned. “Did you know that Marianne is writing a book?” She tossed up her hands. “Can you imagine the scandal that would erupt if it were ever published?”
“It would be a fairly tame scandal, by all accounts.”
“A woman has no place writing books.” She lowered her voice. “It is unsavory.”
Martin leaned back in his chair. “She would not be the first woman to have published a book, nor would she be the last.”
“That doesn’t make it right.”
“I can’t believe that I am about to say this, but I think it is a good thing that Marianne is writing a book.”
His mother lifted her brow. “In what way?”
“It might alleviate her boredom, since she is still in mourning.”
She huffed. “I daresay Marianne makes herself out as a martyr,” she declared. “It is our privilege to mourn the ones we have lost.”
“Everyone grieves in their own way,” he pressed.
His mother didn’t appear convinced by his words. “I would appreciate it if you spoke to Marianne about the repercussions of a lady writing a book.”
“I will try, Mother.”
“Thank you,” she said. “That might persuade her to spend more time practicing the pianoforte or needlework than on the ridiculous notion of a book.”
Martin shook his head as his mother departed from the room. His mother and sister were always at odds with one another. They had never seemed to get along, and Marianne always went out of her way to get a rise from their mother.
He saw movement out of the corner of his eye and turned towards the window. To his surprise, he saw Marianne rushing towards the stables in the back of the townhouse.
He rose, deciding now would be a good time to speak to his sister. He hurried outside and made his way the short distance to the stable. He stepped inside and was assaulted by the smell of hay and manure.
Martin found his sister inside a stall brushing down her chestnut-colored mare. He came to a stop and placed his hands on the stall door. “You do realize that we pay people to brush down our horses?” he joked.
“I enjoy doing this task myself,” she replied. “It relaxes me.”
“Did you truly tell Mother that you intended to run away and join a circus?”
Her hand stilled with the brush. “I did.” A mischievous smile came to her lips. “I must assume that is why you are here.”
“No,” he replied. “I am here to discuss you writing a book.”
She continued brushing down her horse’s neck. “Is that so?”
He glanced over his shoulder, then said, “I think it is brilliant.”
“You do?”
He nodded. “May I ask what it’s about?”
She turned to face him, her eyes twinkling with merriment. “It’s about a father who is forcing his daughter to marry, but she defies him and marries another.”
“I see,” he said. “How much have you written?”
“I haven’t started yet,” she admitted.
He grinned. “Were you just antagonizing Mother, then?”
“Perhaps,” she replied. “Mother wanted me to practice the pianoforte, and I may have let it slip that I am writing a book.”
“Well, when you are further along, I would really like to read it.”
“You would?”
He chuckled. “You sound surprised.”
“You are not the reading audience I had in
