ANNE ASHLEY - Miss In A Man's World

But young George Green had him well and truly puzzled. Speech alone suggested the chit didn’t come from the lower orders. He strongly suspected, too, that she had received a well-rounded education. So what on earth did she imagine she was doing indulging in such an escapade? If she wasn’t in disguise as a jest, then there was every likelihood she had run away from home, possibly fleeing some form of persecution, or even an arranged marriage that was not to her taste. If he had any sense at all, he told himself roundly, he would do what she asked, and just deposit her at the first respectable hostelry they came to in the capital! Yet, even as this most sensible course of action crossed his mind, he knew he would not act upon it.

He found himself studying her intently again. Yes, dressed appropriately she would undoubtedly make a damnably pretty girl. No, an extremely lovely one, he corrected silently. She was certainly older than fifteen. Eighteen, or maybe nineteen, he decided. And definitely no sweet simpleton, if he were any judge. She knew precisely what she was doing, too. There was some definite purpose in this outrageous charade of hers. He’d stake his life on it! One thing was certain, though, he found her and the situation intriguing and highly diverting, something he hadn’t experienced in many a long year. He was determined to discover who she was and, more importantly, just what she was!

‘I am pleased to discover you are not garrulous by nature, Master Green. None the less, I believe a little conversation would be permissible, even between virtual strangers.’

This succeeded in bringing to an end her intense study of the passing countryside. ‘I do beg your pardon, my lord—only, I’ve never visited the capital before, and am finding the landscape quite interesting.’

‘I, on the other hand, have travelled this route on numerous occasions and find it faintly tedious,’ he countered, ‘and should much prefer to discover a little more about you.’

There was no mistaking the guarded look that took possession of those enchanting features, but his lordship chose to disregard it. ‘Why, for instance, do I find you alone in what, by your own admission, is a foreign part of the land? And why are you not accompanied by a relative?’

‘Both my parents are dead, my lord.’

He found himself readily accepting the truth of this statement, possibly because her gaze had been so unwavering. Yes, already he was well on the way to knowing for sure when she was spinning him some yarn and when she was not.

‘And is there no one else responsible for your well-being, child …? No distant relative or guardian?’

‘No, my lord.’

Now, that was most interesting, for if she had continued speaking the truth, and he was inclined to believe she had, it must surely mean that she was somewhat older than he had first imagined, at least one-and-twenty. It possibly meant, also, that she was not running away from some arranged marriage that was not to her taste. Which instantly begged the question of what lay behind the outrageous escapade? With every passing mile his lordship’s curiosity was increasing by leaps and bounds!

By the time the carriage had drawn to a halt before a certain much-admired residence in Berkeley Square his lordship had decided on his immediate course of action. His intriguing companion, on the other hand, did not betray any outward sign of being at all impressed by her surroundings when she alighted in his lordship’s wake. In fact, when she discovered it was none other than the Viscount’s town house they stood before, she appeared decidedly ill-at-ease, not to say a trifle annoyed.

‘But I thought you said you would deposit me at some respectable hostelry, my lord?’

‘I cannot recall agreeing to any such thing, child,’ he countered, favouring her with one of his haughtiest stares. ‘I can, in due course, arrange for one of my servants to direct you to just such an establishment, if it is what you wish. First, I have a proposition to put to you. But not here in the street, where the world and his neighbour are at liberty to view proceedings.’

His lordship did not trouble to discover whether his youthful companion was prepared to follow him into the house. When the front door miraculously opened, even before he had made known his arrival by beating a tattoo using the highly polished brass knocker, he strolled languidly into the hall, handing his outdoor garments to the high-ranking retainer who had served him diligently from the moment his lordship had unexpectedly come into the title.

‘Bring claret and two glasses into the library, Brindle, and inform Cook I shall not be going out again this evening,’ and so saying he led the way into the book-lined room, fully aware that he was being closely followed by his newest acquaintance.

Choosing not to acknowledge her presence until he had closed the door so that they could enjoy privacy, he then turned to study her. Although she had removed her hat, she had chosen not to hand it over to the butler, and held it securely against the portmanteau in her right hand. Which instantly revealed two things—firstly, she was alert to the correct forms of behaviour; and, secondly, she remained decidedly ill at ease. When she blatantly refused the offer of a seat, he did not force the issue and merely made himself comfortable in a winged-chair, while all the time studying her closely as she, in turn, considered the painting taking pride of place above the hearth.

‘That is your family, is it not, my lord?’

‘Indeed it is, child. The tall gentleman had the felicity to be my sire. My mother, although no beauty, as you can perceive for yourself, was possessed of much wit and charm. I am the younger child, holding the dog.’

He watched fine coal-black brows draw together. ‘My condolences, sir. I trust your brother’s demise was not recent?’

Clearly the chit took no interest in the goings-on in the ton. ‘He died after taking a tumble from his horse some eight years ago.’

What she might have chosen to reply to this he was never to know, for the door opened, and her attention immediately turned to the rigidly correct individual who had served the Fincham family for very many years.

‘You may leave the tray, Brindle. We shall help ourselves. I shall ring when I require you again. In the meantime, I do not wish to be disturbed.’

The major-domo was far too experienced to betray even a modicum of surprise over his master’s most unusual companion, and merely bowed stiffly before leaving the room and closing the door almost silently behind him.

‘Come here, child,’ his lordship demanded, and then sighed when the order was blatantly ignored. ‘I assure you I have no intention of doing you a mischief. I merely wish to look at your hands.’

Gracefully arching brows rose in surprise. ‘My hands, sir! Whatever for?’

The Viscount cast an exasperated glance up at the youthful face. ‘Be warned that should I decide to offer you employment—against my better judgement, I might add—I shall expect my every request to be obeyed without question. Now, come here!’

This time he succeeded in achieving a favourable response. Lightly grasping the member held shyly out to him, he felt for his quizzing glass and through it studied slender tapering fingers and short clean nails. ‘As I suspected, you are not accustomed to hard labour.’

Releasing the finely boned wrist, he reached for the decanter conveniently positioned on the table beside his chair and proceeded to pour out two glasses. ‘As I cannot imagine you have quenched your thirst for several hours, you may sit yourself and join me in a glass of wine.’

Although her expression clearly revealed a hint of speculation, there was nothing to suggest that she might have considered it in the least odd to be asked to partake of refreshment in the company of an aristocrat, which succeeded only in intriguing him still further.