He did not know what to do.
She looked so hurt and vulnerable.
He reached out and gently stroked her hair. What he truly wanted to do was wrap her in his arms and kiss her brow, tell her she was worth a thousand Lady Alexandras. But Heather was with them and might get the wrong impression. So he did nothing but remain by Dahlia’s side and continue to stroke her hair.
“I’m done with men. I will not attend any balls or elegant supper parties,” Dahlia declared a moment later. “No more musicales or teas for me. I’m going to hide up in my room for the next ten years.”
“Oh, Dahlia. You can’t!” Her sister was once again distressed and absorbing all her hurt. The two of them were sniffling and threatening to turn once more into watering pots.
He was not prepared for this.
He was going to send Heather out of the room on a made-up errand if she burst into tears.
Perhaps he would have managed them better if he’d ever had sisters. But he was the youngest of four brothers. And youngest of the eight male cousins the family had affectionately dubbed as the wildebeests because they had been wild as beasts when growing up.
Wildebeests did not cry.
They were big and brawny and one step above jungle animals when it came to grabbing their share at mealtimes. They did not hesitate to protect their territory from interlopers, even if it meant getting bloodied from time to time. And if one of them was in trouble, the others would band together to help him out.
He would do the same for Dahlia.
How could he not protect this gentle doe?
He took her hand in his, relieved when she did not attempt to draw it away. “If you hide away, then that codswallop wins. Will you allow him the victory? No, you won’t,” he answered for her immediately because he was not certain how she would reply. “First of all, your sisters will not let you. Holly gave you The Book of Love for a reason. You were meant to have it for the purpose of finding love, and this is what you are going to do. Where is it now? What have you done with it?”
“It’s on my night table. I was going to read it tonight, but I haven’t the heart for it now.” She sniffled as she turned toward her sister. “Why don’t you take it, Heather?”
“Heather doesn’t need it yet.” Ronan knew he was interfering, but he’d be damned if he would let this innocent girl ruin her life over that undeserving wretch. He tossed a glance at Dahlia’s sister, silently warning her not to contradict him. “Seems to me, this is precisely the reason why you must read it. You cannot let that bounder continue to control your life. You came here to find yourself a husband, so this is what you must do.”
“Who will have me now? I am a laughingstock.”
He growled. “You are not. Don’t ever call yourself that.”
“And was Gerald so wrong in telling me that I will never fit in among the cream of society? Look at me. I’m no typical English rose. You must admit my looks are...I don’t even know how to describe myself. My hair’s an unruly mess.”
She put her hands to her hair and began to take out the last of the pins holding the upswept twist in place. Most of the pins had already fallen out since she’d been burrowing her head under the pillows and that fashionable twist no longer looked recognizable. “And how would you describe its color? Have you ever seen anyone with hair like this?”
Blessed saints.
No, he hadn’t. He’d never seen a lovelier mane on a lass. Her hair was a splendid dark red with hints of brown and gold.
His fingers began to itch.
He wanted to bury his fingers in the long, silky strands and–
What was wrong with him?
“My eyes, too.” She wiped away the last of her tears and opened her eyes wide while leaning closer to him. “What color would you say they were? You can’t tell, can you? It is as though an artist tripped and splashed his paints everywhere on them.”
They were a stunning mix of green and blue with an outer ring of violet, and flecks of gold tossed in for good measure.
“And,” she said with a groan, collapsing back against the pillows, “I have freckles on my nose.”
“Heavens! What a disaster,” he teased, wanting to laugh at her utter innocence. But she was too fragile still and would not take kindly to his attempt to coax her out of her misery. The few freckles she had were adorable and endearing, as was everything else about her. This was why she would never meet the ton standards of beauty.
Nor could she carry off that proud, disdainful look so many considered sophisticated. There was nothing cold or haughty about Dahlia.
Quite the opposite, she was vibrant and compassionate. She would never come across as anything but charming.
No, she wasn’t a ton beauty.
She was something far better. “Don’t forget your dimples.”
“What?” She sat up again looking kittenish and pouty with her hair in a tumble, and her slightly too wide mouth turned down at the corners.
She had no idea how incredibly beautiful she looked.
He ran a finger lightly along her cheek. “You have dimples in your cheeks when you smile.”
Heather nodded. “It’s true, Dahlia. You do.”
“Then I won’t ever smile again,” she said with a huff.
Ronan arched his eyebrow. “Fine. Whatever you do, don’t–”
She broke into a smile because she knew this is how he always teased her. Sweeter still, she laughed and shook her head. “You are a wicked fiend! I am not through wallowing in my misery, and you are determined to have me see the folly in it. Thank you, Ronan,” she said softly, emitting a ragged breath. “I don’t know how I can ever repay you for your kindness.”
“It isn’t necessary.”
“Please, let me do something to acknowledge my appreciation. I was so out of my depth when confronting Gerald. He was eating me alive and would have utterly destroyed me if you hadn’t been there to protect me. I won’t take no for an answer.”
“If you are determined...”
“I am.”
“Well, there is a way. You know I’ve been wanting to read The Book of Love. Would you have any objection to our reading it together?”
“Why together? Just take the book, Ronan. You are welcome to it, not that you would ever need its help to find love for yourself. Women fall all over themselves to get in front of you. Aren’t you already escorting one of the most beautiful debutantes around town? Your name often appears in the gossip rags along with hers. Who was that handsome Royal Navy captain seen escorting Lady M to the theater?”
Heather bobbed her head in agreement. “Holly believes you are courting Lady Melinda Ridley.”
He eyed her curiously. “Why would she say that? You think I’m interested in Lady Melinda?”
“Aren’t you?” Dahlia furrowed her brow as though confused. “How can you not be? It is said she is stunning, and you’ve been escorting her about town.”
“And you believe what the gossip rags say?”
She nodded. “Aren’t you courting her?”
“No. It is all stuff and nonsense.” He hated all the lies and manipulations that seemed to be the normal course of business in polite society.
Dahlia still appeared confused. “Then why are you seen everywhere with her?”