The Sum of All Kisses

“Not with everyone.”

He smiled mockingly. “You refer to me, I presume.”

It was on the tip of her tongue to say, Of course not, but he was too intelligent for that. Instead she sat in stony silence, feeling very much like a fool. A rude fool.

He chuckled. “You should not chastise yourself for your failure. I am a challenge for even the most affable of people.”

She turned, staring at his face with utter confusion. And disbelief. What sort of man said such a thing? “You seem to get on well with Daniel,” she finally replied.

One of his brows rose, almost like a dare. “And yet,” he said, leaning slightly toward her, “I shot him.”

“To be fair, you were dueling.”

He almost smiled. “Are you defending me?”

“No.” Was she? No, she was simply making conversation. Which, according to him, she was supposed to be good at. “Tell me,” she said, “did you mean to hit him?”

He froze, and for a moment Sarah thought she’d gone too far. When he spoke, it was with quiet amazement. “You are the first person ever to ask me that.”

“That can’t be possible.” Because really, didn’t everything hinge on that one detail?

“I don’t believe I realized it until this moment, but no, no one has ever thought to ask if I meant to shoot him.”

Sarah held her tongue for a few seconds. But only just. “Well, did you?”

“Mean to shoot him? No. Of course not.”

“You should tell him that.”

“He knows.”

“But—”

“I said that no one had asked me,” he cut in. “I did not say that I had never offered the information myself.”

“I expect his shot was accidental as well.”

“We were neither of us in our right minds that morning,” he said, his tone utterly devoid of inflection.

She nodded. She didn’t know why; she wasn’t really agreeing to anything. But it felt as if she should respond. It felt as if he deserved a response.

“Nevertheless,” Lord Hugh said, staring straight ahead, “I was the one to call for the duel, and I was the one who shot first.”

She looked down at the table. She did not know what to say.

He spoke again, quietly, but with unmistakable conviction. “I have never blamed your cousin for my injury.”

And then, before she could even think about how to respond, Lord Hugh stood so abruptly that his injured leg bumped into the table, splashing a bit of wine out of someone’s forgotten glass. When Sarah looked up, she saw him wince.

“Are you all right?” she asked carefully.

“I’m fine,” he said in a curt voice.

“Of course you are,” she muttered. Men were always “fine.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” he snapped.

“Nothing,” she lied, coming to her feet. “Do you need assistance?”

His eyes blazed with fury that she’d even asked, but just as he started to say, “No,” his cane clattered to the floor.

“I’ll get that for you,” Sarah said quickly.

“I can—”

“I’ve already got it,” she ground out. Good Lord, the man was making it difficult for her to be a considerate human being.

He let out a breath, and then, even though he was clearly loath to do so, he said, “Thank you.”

She handed him the cane, and then, very carefully, asked, “May I accompany you to the door?”

“It’s not necessary,” he said brusquely.

“For you, perhaps,” she shot back.

That seemed to pique his curiosity. One of his brows rose in question, and Sarah said, “I believe you are aware that I have been tasked with your welfare.”

“You should really stop flattering me, Lady Sarah. It will go to my head.”

“I will not shirk my duty.”

He looked at her for a long moment, then sent a pointed glance toward the twenty or so wedding guests who were currently dancing.

Sarah took a steadying breath, trying not to rise to his bait. She probably shouldn’t have abandoned him at the table, but she had been feeling merry, and she liked to dance. Surely Honoria hadn’t meant that she must remain at his side for every moment of the wedding. Besides, there had been several other people left at the table when she’d got up. And she’d come back when she’d realized he’d been all alone with only Frances for company.

Although truth be told, he did seem to prefer Frances.

“It is strange,” he murmured, “being a young woman’s duty. I can’t say I have ever before had the pleasure.”

“I made a promise to my cousin,” Sarah said in a tight voice. To say nothing of Iris and her judgmental ways. “As a gentleman, you should allow me to at least attempt to fulfill that promise.”

“Very well,” he said, and his voice was not angry. Nor was it resigned, or amused, or anything she could discern. He held out his arm, as any gentleman would, but she hesitated. Was she supposed to take it? Would it set him off balance?

“You won’t knock me over,” he said.

She took his arm.

He tilted his head toward hers. “Unless, of course, you push.”

She felt herself flush.

“Oh, come now, Lady Sarah,” he said, looking down at her with a condescending expression. “Surely you can take a joke. Especially when it’s at my expense.”

Sarah forced her lips into a tight smile.

Lord Hugh chuckled, and they headed for the door, making faster progress than she would have expected. His limp was pronounced, but he had clearly figured out how best to compensate for it. He must have had to relearn how to walk, she realized with amazement. It would have taken months, maybe years.