Read Finding Miss McFarland for Free Online Page B

if oddly fascinated by the shape and color. Although as far as he could tell, there was nothing particularly remarkable in either. It simply captured his attention the way a candle flame might. “The corners are still quite tidy.”
    “Nevertheless, I’m certain that I’m the very last person you wanted to see today,” she said and straightened, smoothing down the front of her skirts. “Please accept my wishes for the merriest of birthdays.”
    He straightened as well, desiring to adjust the front of his cutaway and waistcoat but his hands were too sticky. “Would you like an invitation to supper this evening?”
    She shook her head so abruptly that some men might have taken offense. “And again, my unexpected presence has put you and your family in an awkward situation. For that, I’m truly sorry and for everything else as well.” She turned to Tess. “Please tell your mother that, while her invitation was most gracious, I have a previous engagement this evening.”
    His sister shrugged and turned, skipping down the hall to where their mother likely waited in the next room, listening to every word.
    “I don’t understand you, Miss McFarland,” he said, studying her with new interest. “Last Season, I was nearly convinced you went out of your way to ensure that we were never seen in the same place, to avoid association to the—”
    “ The incident ,” she supplied quickly. “That is the only delicate way to refer to what happened at my debut, Mr. Croft.”
    He grinned at the haughty way she addressed him, saying Mr. Croft as if accusing him of a wrongdoing or misbehavior. “Then, a year after the incident , I cannot go three steps without running into you. Why, you practically laid your bonnet at my feet yesterday, daring me to pick it up.”
    Her lips parted on a gasp, offering him a flash of her pink tongue. “I did no such thing. It was the wind and nothing—I repeat, nothing —more.”
    A bit of deviltry flared to life within him. Now, he wanted to hear her haughty address again. He wanted to goad her into those three syllables. “Yet you came here to spare my mother’s feelings and then stayed long enough to encourage her, praising her in a way that gave every indication of your interest in her son.”
    “Mr. Croft!”
    He felt her admonition cover him, tightening the flesh over his bones. He could feel heat radiate from each drop of blood in his veins, feel the length of each hair on his body. His follicles contracted—released—contracted with those three syllables out of her small pink mouth.
    Mis-ter Croft .
    Something flashed in her gaze, like a sudden spark to gunpowder. For an instant, the violet in her irises brightened to pale lavender. She drew in a breath before she continued, her voice low and calm. “You are mistaken, sir. While I mean this as no insult, either to your person or to your family, the plans for my future in no way involve you. Good day.”
    Even though she was quick to leave, he knew he could catch her if he wanted to. However, he still had damnably sticky cream on his hands, in addition to a strange bruising around his ego. He had little doubt she’d meant what she said about her future not involving him. Yet he hadn’t a clue why it bothered him.
    O n the drive home, Delaney decided that she was going to kill Bree. It was her fault, after all—at least every iota of disaster she’d experienced in these past two days. If it hadn’t been for her sister, she never would have made such a fool of herself in front of Mr. Croft. Again.
    Of course, she had to cast some of the blame on him too. Everything had been fine until his sudden appearance in the doorway. Then, everything went completely, utterly wrong. The table, the flowers, the cream, the comment about his eyes . . . oh, why did her mouth run so often without the intervention of her brain?
    It wasn’t her fault. It was his, for making her uncharacteristically nervous. She was never nervous, or prone to