Page 29 of The Virgin Who Humbled Lord Haslemere
“I slept well last night, Miss Harley. Peacefully, even, secure in the knowledge that whatever my sister’s trouble might be I’d soon get to the truth of the matter, with your help.”
“We will get to the truth, I promise you, but—”
“I was well satisfied with our bargain, you see,” he went on, as if she hadn’t spoken. “My building on Mill Street seemed a small enough price to pay to secure mypeace of mind.”
“LordHaslemere, I—”
“But my mindisn’tpeaceful, Miss Harley, nor is any other part of me. We made an agreement, yet here you are, not twelve hours later, already breaking it. If I hadn’t been lying in wait for you and caught you out, I suspect you would have continued to prove elusive for the rest of the day.”
“You admit you were lying in wait, then?”
It was a feeble enough accusation, and predictably, it did nothing to deter Lord Haslemere, who was intent on a lecture. “Let’s clarify our positions, shall we? You’re myemployee. That means I issue the commands, and you follow them.”
“Commands!” Why, the nerve of the man. “I never agreed to follow your every—”
“No more evasions, Miss Harley. No subterfuge, no lies, and no more sneaking about like a child with fistfuls of pilfered sweets. Do I have your word?”
Protestations rose to Georgiana’s lips, but one look at him made her bite them back. He’d spoken calmly enough, but his eyes were surprisingly stern, and for the first time since their infamous meeting in Maiden Lane, it occurred to her Cecilia might be right about him.
Perhaps Lord Haslemere wasn’tquitethe reckless, feather-brained rake all thetonsupposed him to be. Cecilia had warned her he was much cleverer than people gave him credit for being—than even he gavehimselfcredit for being.
Georgiana had always assumed Cecilia was exaggerating Lord Haslemere’s abilities because he was Lord Darlington’s dearest friend, but now…well, she’d been tangling with him for less than a day, and he’d already managed to pin her down, hadn’t he?
She blew out a breath and steeled herself for the humiliation of begging Lord Haslemere’s pardon. Oh, he’d make it unpleasant enough for her—she hadn’t any doubt of that. He’d tease and crow about it, and she’d hold her tongue, dash it, because the truth was, shewashis employee, and she desperately wanted his buildingon Mill Street.
The school needed it. Thegirlsneeded it.
She threw her shoulders back and forced herself to meet those disturbing dark eyes. “You’re right, my lord. I did intend to sneak off to Lord Draven’s before you arrived, and I beg your pardon for it. It won’thappen again.”
She waited, but the gloating she dreaded never came. Lord Haslemere studied her, as if he were gauging her sincerity, and then…
“Very well. We’ll say no more about it.” A smile curved his lips, and it was like the sun emerging from a bank of clouds. Georgiana blinked at him, blindsided. It wasn’t just the smile, although now that the sensuous curve of his lips was directedonlyat her, she began to understand why every lady in London swooned over his smile.
Not her, but…other ladies.
But what really surprised her was the swiftness with which his emotions shifted from frustration to forgiveness, and from there to equanimity. It was all right there for anyone to see, playing like quicksilverover his face.
Her own face felt stiff in comparison, immobile, but she didn’t have time to dwell on it, because Lord Haslemere took her arm and began half-leading, half-tugging her toward his carriage. “Are you acquainted with Lord Draven, Miss Harley?”
His coachman sprang to the ground to open the door, and Lord Haslemere handed her in, his hand firm and strong. Georgiana was obliged to suppress a shiver at the warm press of them around her fingertips. “No, not at all.”
He fell into a sprawl on the bench across from hers. “What made you think he’d see you, then? Draven’s a private fellow. He’s not the sort who’d welcome a strange lady who appears on his doorstep in the wee hours of the morning. Did you suppose he’d simply let you stroll into his drawing room and beginquizzing him?”
“It’s nine o’clock. That’s hardly the wee hours of the morning, Lord Haslemere.”
“Close enough.” He stretched, and the tip of his boot brushed the hemof her skirts.
Georgiana jerked her feet away from his and tucked them under her seat. A sly grin curved his lips, but she refused to give him the satisfaction of commenting on it. “Since you ask, I intended to speak to Lord Draven’s housekeeper.”
“There’s no need for that now. I’m acquainted with Draven. He’ll likely agree to see me, even at thisungodly hour.”
Georgiana shook her head. “No, we’ll do better with his housekeeper.”
He frowned. “Why should you bother with his housekeeper when you can speak to theearl himself?”
“Has it occurred to you, Lord Haslemere, the earl might not care for the accusation that he’s insulted your sister’s honor? We don’t need a duel between two foolish noblemen.”
Georgiana thought he’d take offense, but instead he barked out a laugh. “Has anyone ever told you, Miss Harley, that you’re exceedinglyill-tempered?”
