‘Oh.’ Felicity looked crestfallen.
Morgan decided to dampen the young woman’s interest once and for all. ‘In fact, I am scaling back my socialising from now on.’
‘Oh? Planning to spend a little more time at home, eh?’ Cuthbert teased. ‘You must be getting old.’
‘I never thought you were the hearth and home kind of man. Might one assume that a woman has brought about this sudden change of heart in you?’ Roger asked.
Mariette gasped. ‘Morgan doesn’t-’
‘Yes,’ Morgan interrupted honestly. ‘One woman has.’
‘Might one enquire as to her name?’ Cuthbert asked after a few moments of heavy silence.
‘You might enquire but it won’t get you anywhere,’ Morgan replied firmly.
‘But your mother made it clear to me that you were looking for a bride,’ Felicity protested. ‘Did you find one last night?’
Morgan lifted his brows at the road ahead before throwing her a dour look. ‘My dear, one does not and should not ever find a bride at a ball and declare one’s interest within hours of first meeting her. I am sorry, but my mother isn’t graced with the details of all of my life, you know. Nor is my sister. At one and thirty, I am far beyond needing my mother’s in
put in my life, or anybody else’s for that matter. I am perfectly capable of finding my own bride, thank you very much.’
Ralph gave him a nudge. Morgan lapsed into silence when he realised just how objectionable his tone was. It was clear he was more than a little annoyed, and the awkward looks shared between the carriage’s passengers confirmed it.
‘Are we to meet with her before we leave?’ Felicity pressed.
‘No,’ Morgan replied. ‘You will meet her in due course I don’t doubt but not right now.’
Ralph coughed discretely. Once the carriage’s passengers had resumed conversation, he nudged Morgan, but Morgan was prevented from engaging his friend in conversation by their arrival in the village.
As they turned into the main street they found Arthur driving swiftly toward them. Pedestrians on either side of the road stopped to stare at him as he swept past them at breakneck speed. Because of Morgan, none of them cried out in protest, but Morgan was aware of the angry glares thrown Arthur’s way.
Morgan looked up and down the busy main street. ‘Damn,’ he growled when his gaze fell upon an achingly familiar figure: Sissy.
He saw the large puddle in the road that she was about to walk past at the same time that Arthur barrelled carelessly toward it. Before Morgan could open his mouth to call a warning to her, the racing curricle splashed through the large puddle causing a huge wave of water to cascade over the pedestrians on the pavement. It wasn’t just Sissy who was immediately drenched from head to toe, several other locals were as well.
For a moment, everyone stopped as they absorbed the shock of what had just happened – except Arthur.
‘Arthur, stop that curricle at once,’ Morgan bellowed. He stood up and waved his arms at Arthur to capture the man’s attention.
Dutifully, Arthur slowed the curricle down but was already racing past. He had to continue to the end of the road and turn around. Further down the street, people were shaking water off their clothing and throwing angry comments and looks at the carriages.
‘What in the Hell do you think you are doing?’ Morgan snapped when Arthur reached them. ‘Do you realise what you have just done?’
Morgan looked at Sissy, who was one of the worst affected given how close she had been to the puddle. Even from several feet away he could see that her dress was ruined and she had been soaked from head to foot.
‘God, you utter fool,’ Morgan hissed. ‘You utter bastard.’
Arthur threw a dismissive look over his shoulder at Sissy and shrugged. ‘She will dry. She is hardly dressed in the height of fashion, is she? I doubt that dress has seen a seamstress for many a good year.’
‘That doesn’t mean she isn’t worthy of your consideration. She is a woman; a woman who is now soaking wet because of your carelessness,’ Morgan growled.
‘She should learn to keep out of the way then,’ Arthur snapped with an angry glare. ‘Why should I stop driving down the road just because she might get her toes wet? She is a local, Morgan. She is used to getting wet or she wouldn’t be out on a day like this, would she?’
Morgan stared at the fop he had once considered a friend, if only through Mariette. He knew that Arthur was just replicating the attitude many of his friends and acquaintances had toward people who weren’t as wealthy or connected but it was horrible to witness.
‘What do you want me to do, Morgan, go and offer to pay for her dress? I only have a shilling on me. That would buy someone like her half a dozen dresses,’ Arthur scoffed.
Morgan stared hard at Arthur. Thankfully, the Heavens opened and prevented him from replying. If he said what he wanted to say he knew that he would offend more people than Arthur had. Wisely, Morgan bit his lip but mentally made a promise to himself that he would make sure that Arthur was never invited to any more social functions should he ever have any. Disgusted, Morgan turned the Barouche around. ‘Go home, Arthur, to your home. Don’t return to my property. You are no longer welcome there,’ Morgan growled. ‘Your attitude is a disgrace. Grow up, preferably before you kill someone.’