Catherine Archer - Lady Thorn

He stopped her with a raised hand. “Haven’t you just said that I am to appear to be your cousin? That we can’t do anything to make anyone doubt I am what you tell them I am?”

She frowned, feeling as if she had just stepped into quicksand. “Yes, but—”

He interrupted again, though politely. “Please, excuse me. Do you really think people will be convinced that I am your cousin if you go around calling me Mr. McBride, which you do most of the time? It’s just a bit formal for such a close family tie. If you call me by my given name all the time, perhaps you’ll begin to remember.”

She bit her lip, realizing that he had her there. She really could not call him Mr. McBride. It would cause comment. But then, neither could she bring herself to call him Jed.

She could tell from the expression on his face that Jedidiah McBride felt he had found at least a small way of getting back at her for all the indignities he felt he was suffering at her hands. Victoria would not allow him to best her so easily. She smiled, and had the pleasure of seeing a trace of unease creep on to his face. “Very well, Cousin Jedidiah. You make a very valid point. We must learn to address one another less formally.”

He scowled down at her. “I prefer Jed.”

She raised her chin. “As I said, Cousin Jedidiah. ” She then turned and moved across the room to the tailor and his assistant.

Jed watched Victoria with a pained expression as she flounced away from him, that slender backside of hers having the same effect on him that a rudely protruding tongue would have produced. Damn, but she was one stubborn woman.

He heard her telling Mr. Randsome he could make up everything they had discussed. Looking extremely pleased, the tailor hastily began to gather up his goods, as though he feared Jed might countermand her if he lingered. As he did so, the lady added, “And do remember that there will be a bonus for every garment that is ready by the beginning of next week. Anything that is finished after that should be sent directly to the London house.”

“Very good, my lady.” The tailor bowed.

Jed turned to look out the tall, narrow window, no longer interested in the exchange. He did not want to think about Victoria or his having given in to her. He did not want to admit that he had been pleasantly surprised to learn that the tailor had talked of elegant but conservative fabrics and clothing. The garments would be fashionable, but comfortable for Jed to wear.

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