“Think nothing of it. You’ve done worse.”

Her eyes flared.

He brought the tips of his fingers together, his hands making a hollow triangle. “I remember our previous encounter with unpleasant accuracy.”

She leaned forward in fury. “You chased my cousin and aunt from a party.”

“They fled. There is a difference. And I did not even know they were there.”

“Well, you should have done.”

“Clairvoyance has never been one of my talents.”

He could see her straining to control her temper, and when she spoke, her jaw barely moved. “I know that you and Cousin Daniel have patched things up, but I’m sorry, I cannot forgive you for what you did.”

“Even if he has?” Hugh asked softly.

She shifted uncomfortably, and her mouth pressed into several different expressions before she finally said, “He can afford to be charitable. His life and happiness have been restored.”

“And yours has not.” He did not phrase it as a question. It was a statement, and an unsympathetic one at that.

She clamped her mouth shut.

“Tell me,” he demanded, because bloody hell, it was time they got to the bottom of this. “What, precisely, have I done to you? Not to your cousin, not to your other cousin, but to you, Lady Sarah Whatever your other names are Pleinsworth.”

She glared at him mutinously, then got to her feet. “I’m leaving.”

“Coward,” he murmured, but he stood as well. Even she deserved the respect of a gentleman.

“Very well,” she said, the color in her cheeks rising with barely restrained anger. “I was supposed to make my debut in 1821.”

“The year of the fourteen eligible gentlemen.” It was true. He forgot almost nothing.

She ignored this. “After you chased Daniel out of the country, my family had to go into seclusion.”

“It was my father,” Hugh said sharply.

“What?”

“My father chased Lord Winstead out of the country. I had nothing to do with it.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

His eyes narrowed, and with slow deliberateness he said, “It does to me.”

She swallowed uncomfortably, her entire bearing rigid. “Because of the duel,” she said, rephrasing so that the blame could be put back squarely on him, “we did not return to town for an entire year.”

Hugh choked back a laugh, finally understanding her silly little mind. She was blaming him for the loss of her London season. “And those fourteen eligible gentlemen are now forever lost to you.”

“There is no reason to be so mocking.”

“You have no way of knowing that one would have proposed,” he pointed out. He did like things to be logical, and this was . . . not.

“There is no way of knowing that one wouldn’t have done,” she cried. Her hand flew to her chest, and she took a jerky step back, as if surprised by her own reaction.

But Hugh felt no sympathy. And he could not stave off the unkind chuckle that burst from his throat. “You never cease to astonish me, Lady Sarah. All this time, you’ve been blaming me for your unmarried state. Did it ever occur to you to look somewhere closer to home?”