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unkind word of you from his lips.” She thought for a moment and bounced her head back and forth a bit. “Of course, that’s probably because he knows I would box his ears if he ever said an unkind word of you,” she added with a hint of humor.
    How can she be so damned flippant at a time like this? Clarinda wondered. But the woman’s words surprised her. “We have not spoken to one another for two years, my lady,” she said as she remembered the last time she’d ever even seen Daniel Fitzwilliam. At Christmastime in Bognor. He was there for a dinner party, but avoided Clarinda the entire evening, his seating at the table preventing them from conversing. And then he had departed before the men had finished their port and cheroots and joined the ladies in the drawing room. It was as if Daniel had deliberately avoided her that evening.
    Dorothea huffed, holding back her retort until the maid had set the tea tray on the low table between them. Once the girl bobbed a curtsy and left, the dowager countess leaned forward.  “ Why haven’t you two spoken?” she asked, taking over the tea pouring before Clarinda could reach over to do it. “And where’s the brandy? I do think something a bit stronger is called for, don’t you?”
    Stunned at the woman’s comment, Clarinda hardly knew what to say. She stood up and hurried to a cart set off to one side of the room. Grabbing a crystal decanter of amber liquid, she returned to her chair and set it down, a bit harder than she intended. “Your younger son thinks me a fortune hunter. He accused me of marrying David for his money and title.” At Dorothea’s surprised expression, Clarinda added, “I would have thought he knew I had some fortune of my own coming to me on my twenty-fifth birthday,” the comment suddenly reminding her that David had actually never claimed the money due her when she reached her majority. “And I could have afforded to live a very comfortable life as a spinster if I wished.”
    This last was delivered with enough venom that Dorothea arched that elegant eyebrow again. Clarinda thought that eyebrow a rather effective weapon. She imagined if it were made of iron, the woman could detach it and throw it like a boomerang, its pointed ends knocking out an opponent with one fell swoop before she would calmly reclaim it and reattach it above her eye.
    Clarinda closed her eyes and shook her head. “I apologize, my lady,” she said in a quiet voice. “I married David because ... because our fathers practically arranged a betrothal ...”
    “Which could have easily been broken,” Dorothea interrupted.
    “And because he asked me, and I ... I wanted to marry him,” Clarinda finished, ignoring Dorothea’s comment about the worthlessness of marriage contracts.
    The dowager countess regarded her daughter-in-law for a very long time before pouring brandy into a teacup and lifting it toward Clarinda. The younger woman shook her head, so Dorothea brought the cup to her lips and sipped delicately. When she set the cup down onto a saucer, she tilted her head to one side. “Even though you were in love with Daniel,” she said with a kind of certainty that wasn’t to be questioned. She leaned over to pour a cup of tea for Clarinda. The statement was almost a rhetorical question, but it caught Clarinda completely off-guard.
    “What? Yes. No. No !” Clarinda claimed as she shook her head, her jaw slack. “I was never in love with Daniel ,” she claimed, her head shaking back and forth. She regarded the decanter of brandy for a moment, thinking perhaps she should add a dollop or two to her tea.
    Not looking the least bit convinced, Dorothea took another sip of brandy. “Could you be, do you suppose?” she wondered then, her manner quite matter-of-fact. “In love with Daniel, I mean.”
    Clarinda blinked. And blinked again. “Wh ...What?”
    Shaking her head, Dorothea set down her cup and saucer on the table and leaned back in the chair, looking every