Celia (A Sinclair Society Novella)

Chapter Fourteen

I waved the Williamsons on their way late that morning. Mr. Carter also said his goodbyes, claiming to be needed at home. I wasn't entirely convinced that he'd come to that conclusion himself, but I was glad to bid him farewell.

Which left Mr. Harper.

He was waiting in the sitting room when I finished seeing my guests off. "I thought you would be with Horace," I said as I went to my chair. I picked up my embroidery and threaded my needle to begin my work.

"You knew Miss Nelson was leaving." His words came out like an accusation.

"She mentioned she wished to leave, yes." I glanced up at him with one eyebrow raised. "I quite understood why she would be eager to leave Clarendon. Hadn't she endured enough here?"

"You knew I wished to speak to her again!"

"Oh? When did you tell me this?" I asked, pleased to see the flush of color on his face. "Now, I do recall Horace mentioning that he might have more questions, but do not fear. I have the address of Miss Sinclair in London. If you ask me nicely, I might even share it with you."

Mr. Harper stared at me, his expression unreadable. "You're—" He began to speak and then broke off.

"I hope you consider very carefully what you intend to say next," I told him serenely. "I have not forgiven you for your part in my husband's deception these past five years."

After a moment, he startled me by laughing. "Well," he said with a grin. "You do have some spirit in you. You always seemed so meek and mousy."

"How, exactly, am I supposed to take that kind of statement?" I demanded, narrowing my eyes.

"I suppose Leith never told you that I tried to convince him not to marry you."

Horrified, I stared at him. He didn't even look ashamed of his confession! "You what?" I exclaimed once I found my voice. "How dare you! What does his marriage have to do with you?"

He held his hands up. "Your husband and I have been friends for years. Of course I have an opinion about who he spends the rest of his life with. I can see now that he chose correctly."

Self-righteous prig! "How you must have been irritated with Mr. Sinclair for introducing us, if you had such a poor opinion of me for so long," I commented icily. "You are not doing yourself any favors with this conversation, Mr. Harper. In fact, my opinion of you continues to fall."

His face had taken on the color of a beet. "My apologies," he said, offering a stiff bow. "I don't know where my manners have fled to. I did not intend to offend you."

"Well, then, I suggest you find your manners," I told him. It was on the tip of my tongue to add 'if you even had them in the first place,' but I restrained myself. I wouldn't sink to his level. "I hope you understand why I must ask you to leave my home as soon as you can."

Again, a stiff bow. If he was ashamed of himself, he should be! Mr. Harper walked to the door and paused. "I am not sorry for what I have done," he said over his shoulder. "Jonathan Sinclair was my closest friend, and I brought his killer to justice."

With that, he left the room. If something had been in my hand, I might have thrown it at him. As it was, I huffed and crossed my arms. I hadn't won that confrontation, and I wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not.

The dowager came in. "What an awful week!" she declared as she sat down. I eyed her with suspicion. "I hope you never wish to do such a thing again. No good can ever come from it."

There it was: the blame for everything going so wrong. "I think Horace and I should start an annual tradition to have our closest friends each summer," I informed her with a smile.