On the other hand, she needed his help.
“Given your encounter with Miss Merton,” she said, “Mr. Hillhouse may be inclined to see you as the enemy.”
“That can’t be helped,” he replied tersely.
“Perhaps it can, milord.”
His scrutiny sharpened. “How so?”
The recent scathing lectures on pride versus friendship were still ringing in her ears. And yet, that didn’t make swallowing her trepidations any easier.
“Mrs. Sloane?” he urged.
Ah, well. In for a penny, in for a pound.
“It so happens that my friend is acquainted with Mr. Hillhouse.” She went on to recount her recent conversation with Jeremy.
Wrexford listened without interruption, and when she finished, he still said nothing.
Charlotte waited. The silence was a little unnerving. The earl was rarely at a loss for words. However, she had no choice but to go on.
“I’ve arranged to meet all three of them tomorrow,” she explained. “But to do so, I’ll need to impose on your friendship—which, I might remind you, is something I was quite forcefully urged to do.”
That finally roused a response.
“How so?”
“There’s no way for me to mingle among beau monde withoutadhering to the strictures of Society. It’s one thing for me to dress modestly and move through the streets of Mayfair on my own. People see me as naught but a working class woman clinging to the fringes of respectability.”
She watched his face, trying to gauge his thoughts.Ha—the hieroglyphics carved on the Rosetta Stone would be easier to decipher.
“But if I am to join Lord Sterling and his friends in a social outing, I must appear to adhere to the rules of propriety,” continued Charlotte. “And that means I must be accompanied by a female servant.”
Wrexford crossed his long legs and drew out the moment by smoothing a crease from his trousers. “I trust you’re not suggesting I don skirt and bonnet to masquerade as your maid.”
A scowl pinched at her mouth. “You can’t have it both ways, milord. You can’t take me to task for refusing to trust you, and then turn around and mock me for doing so.”
“An ill-chosen jest,” conceded the earl.
And yet he wasn’t smiling.
“Forgive me,” he added.
It was her turn to freeze him with a silent stare.
If Wrexford noticed, he gave no sign of it. “So, what you’re asking is that someone from my household serve as your companion?”
“I would imagine,” she said through clenched teeth, “that a tweenie or kitchen maid could be spared for a few hours without your mansion falling into rack and ruin.”
“I daresay the roof slates wouldn’t crumble into dust,” he drawled.
“If you insist on being insufferable, I will ask Jeremy,” she shot back. “Though I would prefer not to do so. These people are his friends, and I already feel guilty that I’ve been less than forthright with him about my reasons for wanting to meet them.”
“If they’re innocent, they’ve nothing to fear.”
Charlotte let out an exasperated huff. “We both know it’s not that simple, milord. Everyone has secrets they would prefer to keep buried. Suspicion wields an eager spade. It cares not where it digs, as long as it’s turning up dirt.”
“A very insightful assessment, Mrs. Sloane,” said Wrexford slowly. “Since you so clearly see the complexities—and the dark side—of Truth, I assume you won’t object if I add an observation.”
