Cora tapped the tip of her fan to her pout and glared at her friend. She could only see Harriet’s back for the other woman was huddled behind the privy screen adjusting the ribbon ties of her stockings. Cora didn’t even want to contemplate that possibility. Better that she accepted it as the insincere nonsense it had been. “He made me look foolish with all that overzealous posturing and his declarations.” Her gaze strayed from Harriet to the nosegay of foxgloves and baby’s breath Bran had pinned to her bodice. Annoyed, she tore it off and cast into the nearby grate. “He only did it because Biddy told him of our contest. He wouldn’t even have thought of it otherwise.” “I don’t know, Cora. Doesn’t it say something that he was at least prepared to attempt to win you a prize? As for his posturing... He has always been one for flamboyance.” Cora shook her head refusing to let herself believe. If Bran had stripped her naked, stuck a number on her rump and paraded her around the room like a prize heifer she wasn’t sure it would have hurt so much, but to dangle something she wanted so badly before her like that… that hurt.
