“Yes, and I thank you for coming to my defense. You’re right, though. I am horribly impetuous, and I believe this situation goes to prove that. But your apology is not necessary, sir. Miss Chessington’s opinion of me is hardly your fault.”
He huffed. “Myfaultis that I get out of bed every morning and go to work. If I were to buy land and then sit back and reap the benefits of it without lifting a finger, I’d be better received by people like y—” He hesitated. “Like most of those here tonight.”
“Yourself,” Louisa said. “You were going to say ‘people like yourself’ weren’t you? Please do not include me or my family in your judgement.”
His amused gaze raked over her. “Are you saying you and your family consider me an equal, Miss Northcott?”
A fraction of time passed. “I—
“Say nothing more,” he said. “Your hesitation answered the question.”
“No, it did not, sir,” she countered. “I was considering my answer, since it is not one that can be qualified by a simple yes or no. It depends on one’s perception of equality.”
She half-expected a contradiction or an argument. Instead, the man’s brow lifted once more. “And what isyourperception of equality, Miss Northcott?” he asked.
“Not quite the same as yours, I suspect.” She raised her chin. “You see, although I am the daughter of a captain and the niece of an earl, I also happen to be a woman. That being so, I must ask if you, as a man, seemeas an equal.”
He smiled his familiar sober smile and shook his head. “Sexual equality is another matter altogether,” he replied, “and my answer in that case is no, I do not see you, or women in general, as being equal to men, nor will they ever be. In some aspects, of course, they are undoubtedly superior, but only in those which God—or nature—intended. Class distinction, to which I was initially referring, is a different beast entirely, one whose survival is currently being threatened by men like myself who have the audacity to believe they are worthy enough to share a dinner table with dukes and earls. I expect and ignore the disapproving looks and cold shoulders, but Syb—that is, Miss Chessington, is not quite as impervious.”
Louisa tamped down the temptation to argue for her womenfolk. Now was simply not the time for it, although if the opportunity ever did arise, she would be sure to exploit it.
“Well, I’m afraid I cannot agree with Miss Chessington’s opinion of Yorkshire,” she said. “Which begs another question, Mr. Harwell. Might this issue lead to the cancellation of your tenancy at Northcott Manor?”
He moved closer, his gaze momentarily settling on her mouth again. “Would that matter to you, Miss Northcott?”
His proximity seemed to suck the air from Louisa’s lungs. “Well, of course it would,” she managed. “The manor needs an occupant, and I’m sure my father will be terribly disappointed if you change your mind.”
“Then allow me to reassure you,” he said. “Despite what you overheard here tonight; I have no intention of—” Maxwell spun around as a key rattled in the lock. A moment later, the door opened, and a male voice spoke.
“That’s odd. It’s open,” the voice said. “I keep it locked as a rule, and with good reason. I don’t want just anyone wandering in here. You’ll see why in a mo…” Lord Richmond’s brows shot upwards as he regarded Louisa and Maxwell. “Good God! Miss Northcott, what the devil are you doing in here? And… Harlow? What is this?”
Louisa heard Maxwell part with a sigh, followed by the quiet utterance of a single word that barely made it to her ears.
“Fuck.”
Shocked, she glanced at him. She didn’t know what the word actually meant but understood it to be the vilest of curses. As she struggled to gather her wits, Lord Milnthorpe followed Lord Richmond into the room. His gaze, at first, settled on Louisa, his expression of surprise evolving into one of relish, as if he’d just discovered a sweet little secret. His haughty perusal then switched to Maxwell. “Well, well, well,” he muttered. “This beggars belief.”
Lord Richmond’s expression, meanwhile, had darkened visibly. “It certainly does,” he said. “What is going on here, young lady? Has this man tried to take advantage of you?”
Louisa gasped. “Absolutely not, my lord. I’m appalled that you would even suggest such a thing.”
“Then what, pray tell, are you doing in here? This is a private room. Off limits.”
“But I did not realize that when I entered,” she replied. “As you just mentioned, the door was unlocked.”
“With respect, my lords,” Maxwell said, his voice calm, “it is patently clear that you have misunderstood the situation.”
“Yes, you most certainly have.” Louisa, her heart banging against her ribs, looked from one man to the other. “Mr. Harlow speaks the truth. This is not at all as it might appear. I… I was actually looking for the ladies’ retirement room and took a wrong turn. I found myself in here by mistake.”
“And was Mr. Harlow already in here?”
“No.” Louisa curled her hands into tight fists and prepared to confess. “My lords, the truth is, I—”
“The truth is, Iwasalready here,” Maxwell replied, “but Miss Northcott did not see me at first. The light is poor, and I was seated on the sofa.”
Louisa threw him a puzzled glance. Why was he lying?
Lord Richmond looked unconvinced and Milnthorpe huffed. “A weak explanation,” the latter remarked, “which I hesitate to believe. Scandalous situation. Utterly scandalous.”
