The man inclined his head the slightest degree. “I’m here to meet Mrs. Dash. Lead me to her.”
Genova straightened. Impossible!
Many of the elite were plain Mr. and Mrs., being a generation or two removed from their titled ancestors, but this man was not a suitable mate for Mrs. Dash. She, though finely turned out, was a common vixen. He was a king of wolves.
In Genova’s fanciful imagination, anyway. Ah, well, the moment had been pleasant while it lasted. Her king of wolves was just another spoiled lordling, title or not, and she had better deal with him.
Before she could move, Lynchbold said, “I wish I could, sir. As soon as the ladies told me of your wife’s accident, I sent help. But my man found no coach.”
What?
“Accident?” Mr. Dash inquired. “Ladies?”
A note of hostility sent a shiver down Genova’s spine. She couldn’t allow this…thiswolfnear the Trayce ladies. She had to get rid of him and the baby immediately.
She gathered her skirts and headed down the stairs. “I can tell you about that, sir.”
She realized too late that it was an overly dramatic entrance, and that it forced her to continue down the stairs under the lordly gentleman’s inspection. Face forward, his lean features and heavy-lidded eyes did not disappoint, and here she was in her most ordinary gown with her hair still disordered from the wind.
He watched in eerie stillness, dark eyes steady, butwhen she reached the bottom, he moved into a bow worthy of court. “Ma’am!”
The sweep of his hand from chest to elegant extension caught her eye, or perhaps it was flashing emerald flame. She fixed on that. Mr. Dash was clearly a wealthy man and it was shameful that his child and nurse be abandoned to strangers.
Genova gave him a moderate, chilly curtsy. “I was in the party that assisted your wife, Mr. Dash, and I can give you a full account. If your wife’s coach has been pulled out of the ditch, I can’t imagine why she’s not here, but please don’t distress yourself about your child. We have little Charles and his wet nurse safe in our rooms.”
“Charles?” he said, in a strange tone. His eyes might have widened, but lids shielded them too quickly for her to be sure. “She brought the precious darling with her?”
Perhaps he was a better father than Genova had hoped. “Unwise in this weather,” she agreed, “but the infant seems healthy.”
“Then take me to him, Miss…?”
“Smith,” Genova said.
She led the way upstairs, wishing, not for the first time, that she had a more interesting name. In the presence of this hawk of fine plumage,Miss Smithmade her feel like a house sparrow, which she most certainly was not. She hoped he was noticing that her figure was excellent and her hair thick and blond, even if straggling somewhat from its pins.
She felt a ridiculous temptation to tell him that she’d fought Barbary pirates, and won. She couldn’t remember a man ever putting her so on edge, and she’d met many interesting ones.
She led him into the parlor to find the maid and the baby both still asleep. Because she’d been away from the room, the smell of soiled baby and grubby nurse hit her nose afresh, but that, of course, was the Dashes’ fault, not hers.
Mr. Dash strolled forward, remarkably quietly for aman in boots and spurs, to look down at the infant. “Dear, sweet Charles. You said he’s well?”
Genova joined him. “As best I can tell, sir. The maid speaks no English.”
His brows rose. “What, then, does she speak?”
“Irish Gaelic, I gather. You are not Irish, sir?”
“No, but Mrs. Dash is.” He contemplated the sleeping baby, making no move to pick him up. That was hardly surprising. Many men thought babies none of their business. Genova just wished she didn’t feel that she should protest if he did.
“She has a terrible time keeping servants and must often take what she can get. She also has a terrible sense of direction. She’s doubtless set off back east. I’d better ride after her.”
He walked toward the door.
After a startled moment, Genova realized he was leaving. She rushed past and put herself in his way. “Surely her coachman would know better?”
“He drinks, which is doubtless how he came to leave the road.”
“Then I’m surprised you haven’t dismissed him.”
