LITMIR.BIZ

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jolted through him. ‘I beg your pardon?’ Thank God she hadn’t divined his original suspicions!

      She faced him undaunted. ‘If that is not the case, I beg your pardon. I can think of no other reason for your visit.’

      Could something of his reputation have reached Miss Daventry via her brother’s letters?

      ‘No doubt, Miss Daventry. However, I am a gentleman. Whatever you may have heard to the contrary.’

      ‘Your reputation is of no interest to me, my lord,’ she informed him, picking up her cup and sipping her tea.

      ‘And what leads you to believe that I have a reputation, Miss Daventry?’ His reputation, after all, was not the sort one discussed with respectable females.

      She gave him a considering look over her tea cup before answering.

      ‘Everyone has a reputation, my lord. All that remains in doubt…’ she sipped, ‘…is the nature of that reputation. Naturally, since you are a gentleman, yours is not the sort of reputation in which I interest myself.’

      ‘Yet you referred to it, ma’am.’

      The brows lifted. ‘I, my lord? Hardly. You alluded to the possibility that someone might have mentioned you in unflattering terms. Thus suggesting that, deserved or not, you have a reputation.’

      Julian nearly choked on his tea. Did she dot every ‘i’ with a needle? Serena, he realised, would have been cheering the chit on.

      She changed the subject. ‘We were speaking of your sister, my lord,’ she said. ‘As I said, I do not disapprove of Miss Trentham. How should I? I have not the honour of her acquaintance. But I do disapprove of my brother’s interest in her.’

      ‘A fine distinction, Miss Daventry,’ he said. ‘Would you care to voice your objections?’

      If possible, she sat up even straighter. Her chin lifted.

      ‘There is a looking glass over the chimneypiece, my lord. Examine yourself in it. Bring to mind your home. Your estates. Recall your rank. Then look about you. Tell me what you see.’

      He didn’t answer. Her cold, blunt assessment rivalled his own. The obvious, brutal response was that everything about her and this room spoke of impoverished gentility. But faced with her quiet dignity, he simply couldn’t say it. Which was foolish beyond permission since the words had been on his lips.

      After a moment she spoke again. ‘Your silence is answer enough. Harry and Miss Trentham are from different spheres. You cannot wish your sister to make such a step. I assume that is what you are come to tell me, and also that you have refused to permit Harry to see your sister again.’

      ‘Not quite, Miss Daventry,’ he said.

      He’d intended exactly that, but Serena had talked him out of it.

      She stared and he felt the corner of his mouth twitch. That had rattled her.

      ‘You can’t approve such a match!’ The disbelief in her eyes echoed in her voice.

      ‘Naturally not,’ said Julian. ‘But my sister has a stubborn streak and in four years when she gains her majority, I will not be able to prevent the match. Your objections tally with my own. Your connection to the Duke of Alcaston notwithstanding—’

      ‘My what?’

      ‘Your brother’s godfather, Alcaston,’ said Julian, eyeing her spectacularly white face. ‘Are you quite well, Miss Daventry?’

      ‘Yes…yes, perfectly.’ Some colour returned to her cheeks. ‘He told you that, did he? It makes no difference, surely?’

      ‘None,’ said Julian. ‘Your brother is still ineligible as a match for my sister, even with the income his Grace has settled on him.’

      She nodded. ‘So. You have forbidden Harry the house, and—’

      ‘No. I have not.’ Serena had pointed out that the fastest way to encourage clandestine meetings was to ban legitimate ones. He could see the logic, but…

      ‘No? What sort of brother are you, then?’

      That caught Julian on the raw. ‘A good one, I hope!’ he snapped. ‘Yes, of course I could forbid them to meet! And where would I be when Lissy hoaxed herself into the role of Juliet and the young fools eloped?’ Serena again.

      ‘Lissy?’

      ‘Alicia,’ he said.

      ‘I beg your pardon,’ she said. ‘I did not mean to tell you how to order your sister’s life—’

      ‘Ouch,’ he said drily. ‘I hope that I do not order my sister’s life, as you put it.’

      She flushed. ‘I’m sorry, that was—’

      ‘If you don’t stop apologising, I shall start to think you are buttering me up.’

      ‘Nothing, my lord, could be further from my intentions!’

      ‘No. I thought as much,’ he murmured.

      That silenced her. If one discounted the draconian glare, which fairly scorched the air between them.

      He grinned. He couldn’t help it. He wished—oh, how he wished!—Serena could hear this exchange. He tripped on the thought—Serena would like this prim, outspoken woman. A woman who was about to be kicked out of her home…and Lissy needed a sharp dose of reality to convince her that life with Harry Daventry would not be love’s young dream at all, but a nightmare. Yes. This might work. Two birds with one shot. He almost patted himself on the back. And then remembered that not only had Miss Daventry not accepted, but that he hadn’t made the offer.

      ‘Miss Daventry,’ he began, ‘I gather you intend to seek lodgings when this house is sold.’

      ‘Until I can secure either a position as a companion or a teaching post.’

      Better and better. ‘In that case, I wonder if the offer of a position might be acceptable—’

      ‘No! It most certainly would not!’ she flared.

      He stared at her scarlet face. ‘I may live on Christmas Steps,’ she continued furiously, ‘but that does not mean—!’ She broke off, biting her lip.

      And he realised that—whether or not his reputation had preceded him—an unspecified offer from a gentleman might well be viewed with suspicion by a respectable female living on Christmas Steps.

      ‘My stepmother requires a companion,’ he said. And waited.

      He was disappointed. Apart from her blush deepening, Miss Daventry maintained her composure, or, rather, regained it.

      ‘Oh. I see,’ she said. ‘I cannot think, my lord, that you really want me as a companion for your stepmother.’

      No explanation. No apology. She moved straight on from the potential quagmire of embarrassment. He had to applaud.

      ‘Why not?’ he asked.

      ‘Only consider the consequences!’ she said. ‘If I were living in your house, Harry would use that to—’

      ‘Precisely,’ he said softly. ‘You would be an unexceptionable reason for your brother to call. Most illuminating for Alicia.’

      Her eyes flew to his. ‘You mean—’

      ‘Meeting you, knowing you must earn your living—’

      ‘Would give your sister food for thought,’ she finished.

      ‘Yes.’ She had caught the point in a flash. He added feelingly, ‘It would also relieve me of the stigma of being thought a mercenary, callous brute by my sister, because offering you the position would signify my approval of you and, by extension, your brother.’

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