Page 30 of The Virgin Who Humbled Lord Haslemere
She gave him her sweetest smile. “I suggest you don’t try my patience, then. Or better yet, if you don’t like my manner, you can leave me to take care of this business by myself.”
His grin actually widened, the scoundrel. “I never said I didn’t like it. On the contrary, I find it rather refreshing.”
If the gossip were to be believed, Lord Haslemere could charm his way into the good graces of any lady in London. “Does it weary you, my lord, always having your way in everything? I suppose it would become tedious.”
If he noticed the touch of acid in her tone, he didn’t react to it. “It’s the truth.”
Georgiana searched his face for any sign of mockery, but he appeared sincere. Perhaps it did grow dull, being theton’s favorite rake. “Ladies who don’t find you charming and irresistible must be as rare as pearls in oysters.”
“Well then, I’ve found the right lady, haven’t I?” A smile twitched at the corners of his lips. “My very own pearl.”
His very own pearl?Georgiana’s mouth fell open. That had almost sounded like…anendearment. A dozen set-downs rose to her lips, but Lord Haslemere looked just as surprised as she did, and not altogether pleased, so perhaps the less said aboutit, the better.
Still, it was worrying. The last thing she wanted was for him to become endearing. No matter how engaging his smile, no matter how twinkling those eyes, she couldn’t allow herself to fall victimto his charms.
She cleared her throat. “Lord Draven doesn’t have any reason to reveal the intimate details of his life to you, my lord. In my experience, gentlemen are apt to guard their secrets, and aristocratic gentlemen more so than most. We’re far better off bringing this matter to his housekeeper.”
Lord Haslemere didn’t appear to have heard her. He was lounging against the squabs, his foot jiggling as his gaze roved over her face. “That color flatters you, Miss Harley.”
“I…what?” Dear God, was sheblushing again?
“The color of your dress. It’s difficult to tell with the way that cloak swallows you, but it’s looks as if it’s nearly the same color as the gown you wore to Lady Wylde’s ball last night. Brown, or bronze, or whatever the modistes are calling it this season. Rich colors bring out the threads of gold in your hair.” He frowned at her hat. “What I can seeof it, anyway.”
Georgiana reminded herself shedidn’tfind him charming, and pursed her lips. “What does the color of my gown have to do with Lord Draven?”
Lord Haslemere, who was no doubt far more accustomed to paying compliments than she was to receiving them, gave a careless shrug. “Nothing at all. I noticed the color suited you, and so I remarked on it. That’s all.”
Why, what was to be done with the man? Was it possible he flirted with whatever woman happened to be in his path, without realizing he was doing it? “We’re nearly to Curzon Street, Lord Haslemere. Have we agreed we’ll bring our business to the earl’s housekeeper rather than theearl himself?”
“If you insist on it, I don’t see what choice I have. I’m a gentleman, Miss Harley, and therefore yours to command.”
Georgiana snorted. “Not half an hour ago you informed meIwas obliged to followyourevery command.”
“That does sound more enjoyable, doesn’t it?”
“Foryou, perhaps.”
The mischievous grin once again quirked the corners of hislips. “Indeed.”
Georgiana eyed him warily. She didn’t trust Lord Haslemere not to do just as he pleased when they reached the door, but she couldn’t see any way to prevent it. They’d come to a stop outside Lord Draven’s townhouse. There was nothing for it now but pray he’d hold his tongue.
In the end, neither of them wasgiven a choice.
Georgiana was distracted by Lord Haslemere’s antics, otherwise she might have noticed right away that a commotion was unfolding in front of the Earl of Draven’s townhouse.
Despite the early hour, there were two vehicles waiting in the drive, one of them a carriage, and the other a traveling coach with Lord Draven’s crest emblazoned on the side. There were a great many servants running about as well, their arms full of baskets and boxes and various other packages, and a trunk was waiting on one side of the door, seemingly abandoned.
“My goodness. Do you suppose the earl is leaving London?”
“I don’t know.” Lord Haslemere frowned at the parade of servants. “We’ll find out soon enough.”
No one paid them any mind as they approached the entrance, but just inside the door they found a tall, wiry lady standing in the midst of the chaos, directing the servants who were scurrying up and down the stairs. She had gray-streaked hair pulled into a tight knot at the back of her head, and an air of authority that marked her out at once as Lord Draven’s housekeeper.
“No, Lizzy.” She was lecturing a quivering housemaid who was holding an arm full of blankets. “Not the trunk. Take them to his lordship’s coach, in case he—” She broke off when she caught sight of Georgiana and Lord Haslemere hovering in the open door. “Lord Draven isn’t at home to visitors.”
“I beg your pardon for the intrusion.” Georgiana took another step into the entryway. “Are you his lordship’s housekeeper?”
The woman brushed a straggling hair away from her forehead. “Aye,I’m Mrs. Bury.”
