“Aaaargh.” Her scream was piercing.
He winced. “Er…hallo.”
She clutched the front of her spencer. “Mr. DeVoreaux. Good heavens, you scared the life out of me.”
“Not the usual greeting, Miss Harry, I’ll give you that.” He grinned and matched her steps as she resumed her walk. “You were thinking of other things, I take it?”
“I must have been, sir. I might even remember what they were once my heart slows down.”
He chuckled. “I apologize. But usually ladies walking alone have a certain awareness of their surroundings. What was it that had you so involved, if I may ask?”
She nodded. “Indeed, I was engrossed. I have a list of purchases to make for Miss Letitia. She returns soon.”
“You’ll be pleased to have her back?”
“Very much. She has been extraordinarily kind to me.”
He held out his arm to assist her over a rather muddy patch of lane. “I understand you were seeking employment when you both met? I have to guess you were fleeing your relatives?”
Warning bells sounded in Harriet’s head. She wasn’t sure how much she could trust this man. He was Rosaline’s brother, and well-liked within the family. Plus, Sir James seemed to enjoy his company.
All good recommendations, but…still Harriet held back.
“That is correct, sir.”
“And yet Letitia did not need a maid, did she? Certainly not one as inexperienced as yourself.”
She frowned and withdrew her arm. “What makes you say that?”
“Miss Harry,” smiled Paul. “Your conversation is intelligent; your words betray a past with an excellent governess. Your bearing, much as you try to efface yourself, will always be that of a woman raised in privilege. You are no lady’s maid, my dear.”
“I…I…”
He hushed her. “We are nearly at the village. Perhaps you would allow me to drive you back to the Chase when your errands are concluded, so that we may continue our conversation? I need to collect a few items for the Hall, and it will require my using the inn’s wagon. So I will have a seat to spare…”
She took a breath as they reached the crossroads leading into Ridlington Vale. “Very good, sir. Yes, I accept your invitation. Thank you. Perhaps if we meet at the inn? I don’t believe my errands will take longer than an hour or two at most.”
“Excellent.” He raised his hat. “Until then, Miss Harry.”
She watched him walk away, and wondered what on earth had made her agree to his proposal.
*~~*~~*
For his part, Paul DeVoreaux was finding himself more and more curious about Miss Harry, if that was actually her name, which he doubted. There was a mystery there…certainly not just the whole maid-needing-work story.
She was a woman of breeding, betrayed by her intelligence and quick wit. She seemed vaguely familiar, which suggested she might have come from London. She was attractive beyond the norm, so he toyed with the notion that she’d been let go after some highborn gentleman betrayed too close an interest in her.
But that ignored the whole matter of her elegant demeanour.
He handled his business affairs, then walked over to the back of the inn, where he knew he’d find Thaddeus Fisher hard at work. The man lived for two things…his wife and his inn. Paul wasn’t sure in which order, but they both seemed to be in excellent condition.
“Ho, Fisher. Good day to you.” He hailed the man pushing around barrels on a concrete slab. Heaving them onto their side, they were then positioned at the top of a slip, to be rolled down into the cellars of the inn itself.
“Did you manage to get my order?” He glanced around.
“That I did, sir,” answered Fisher. “Right o’er ‘ere.” He led Paul to several barrels, deep brown scarred wood banded with shining silver. They bore a familiar mark on the side.
“Ah, there they are. Beauties, aren’t they? Nothing better than Chillendale ale, I say.”
