Chapter Four
CHAPTER FOUR
M eredith sucked in her breath so sharply she nearly choked. She must not have heard him correctly. Because it certainly sounded as if Griffin Brooks, her best friend since childhood, her closest companion, had just said that he already knew who he would marry.
But that wasn't possible. Meredith knew everything about him. She knew he liked to wake up early and go riding in the park. She knew he liked his coffee and tea without milk or sugar. She knew he was terribly kind to his servants, and they all adored him.
There were no surprises between them. Why, Griffin even knew she hadn't shed a single tear when her late husband died. There was only one thing she'd never told him. A thing she had no intention of telling him. But it simply wasn't possible that Griffin had a lady in mind to marry and Meredith was not aware.
"For Christ's sake, who ?" came flying out of her mouth before she had a chance to craft her question in a more eloquent fashion .
Griffin smiled and shook his head, while Meredith cleared her throat and sheepishly glanced around to ensure no one had overheard her indelicate speech.
Griffin's grin was positively smug. "I have no intention of telling you ."
Her brows snapped together, and her mouth popped open. "What? Why not? Whatever can you mean? Why wouldn't you tell me?" What was he about teasing her this way? Couldn't he surmise that she was about to have an apoplectic fit in the middle of the Cranberrys' ballroom?
"Because you are the sort who would march directly up to the lady and announce it, and I plan to be much more subtle than that."
Meredith's shoulders were so tight she thought they might squeeze her ears. She plunked both hands on her hips. "Are you seriously telling me that finally, after all these years, you fancy a lady and you refuse to tell me who she is?"
He bit his lip in that boyish way of his and glanced at her from beneath his long, thick lashes. "That's precisely what I'm telling you."
Her nostrils flared, and she lifted her chin. "You know I cannot bear that answer."
"Of course I know." He brought his champagne glass to his lips again.
The furrow between her brows deepened. "You know I shall not be able to live with that answer."
His shrug was positively infuriating. "Be that as it may."
"How cruel can you be?" she asked, fully prepared to resort to dramatics if she must.
He arched a brow at her. "You know as well as I do that you cannot keep a secret to save your own life. If I'm to have any finesse whatsoever in executing a proper courtship, I cannot tell you, Mere. It's that simple."
Meredith wanted to stamp her foot. She wanted to beg him to tell her. She briefly considered socking him in the gut for torturing her. But her years of ladylike behavior—the behavior she'd had to painstakingly teach herself by watching other ladies go about in Society — were drilled into her now and could not be denied. Instead, she closed her eyes briefly, pressed her lips together firmly, and opened her eyes once more. "Very well. I shall allow that I cannot keep a secret." Most secrets, that is. Of course, Griffin had no way of knowing there was one secret she'd kept for years. She'd never told him she was barren. It was too humiliating.
"Good. Then I can expect you to stop asking me who she is?"
"You must be jest—" Wait. No. That was not the way to handle Griffin. When he made up his mind about something, there was no reasoning with him. The Southbury Stubborn Streak was nothing to discount. She blew out a deep breath, straightened her shoulders, and lowered her voice. "Very well. What if I guess ?"
His dark brows shot up. "Guess?"
She smoothed her hand down her lavender gown with practiced nonchalance. She mustn't seem too excited or he would certainly say no. They had always been competitive. This would be nothing more than another one of their many competitions. A game. "Yes. What if I guess who she is? Will you tell me then?"
Griffin rubbed his chin with his forefinger. His eyes narrowed, and he appeared to contemplate the matter for a moment. "Hmm."
"Oh, you must tell me, Griff. If I guess, that is. Otherwise, I shall just die. I will simply perish." Nonchalance had never been her strong suit.
He side-eyed her. "You're that confident you can guess the lady's identity, are you?"
Was that a real question? "Of course I am. "
She was not. But she also wasn't about to tell him that. And regardless, she would just keep guessing until she worked it out.
He poked out his cheek with his tongue. "Very well. I shall allow you to guess…with one caveat."
She scowled at him. She didn't like caveats.
He chuckled. "Don't look so disgruntled. I'm giving you a chance, aren't I?"
She folded her arms across her chest. "Fine. What is your caveat?"
"You may only have seven guesses."
This time, she did stamp her foot. "But that's not?—"
"Ah, ah, ah." He waggled a finger in front of her face. "That's my condition. Accept it or don't. Seven guesses. No more. No less. Otherwise, you'll guess every woman in England."
Thwarted . Her eyes narrowed to slits. Of course Griffin was too clever to allow her an infinite number of guesses. "Fine. I accept." She turned toward the ballroom and surveyed its occupants with a shrewd eye. "Now. Who shall be my first guess?"