“You needn’t wait with me.” She went to slip his jacket off her shoulders, her lashes dropping so that she stared at the cobbled pavement. “If you’d get word to my mother, though, I’d appreciate it.”
Her attempt to dismiss him was not subtle. He paused. He wasn’t keen on allowing anybody else to see her in this state. “Keep the jacket. You can return it to me at Eden’s Court.” It was the first time either of them acknowledged the awkwardly timed house party.
He didn’t wish to leave her unchaperoned either. The girl ought to know better. “I’ll wait until your carriage arrives.”
She frowned, staring at her hands now. “I’m looking forward to it. At first, I wasn’t, but now…” The hurt in her voice revealed that she’d not been unaffected by the other guests’ treatment of her today.
Justin hadn’t expected her to say anything, let alone that. The smile she turned on him held a brittle quality.
“Sophia, Her Grace, I suppose I should say, has invited some of my dearest friends. Mrs. Nottingham and Miss Emily Goodnight. I believe you’ll rather enjoy their company.”
“I’m certain I will.” A breeze stirred the trees above them and, for the first time since his dunking, he began to feel the cold.
“Your lips are turning blue. Where isyourcarriage, my lord?” She stared up at him almost accusingly as she huddled beneath his coat.
At such a question, he laughed. He’d never even owned a carriage. He’d walked.
“Don’t tell me you plan on returning to Prescott House on foot.”
“I’ve never had need of one.” He shrugged along with his explanation. She faced him full on now.
“You may ride with me. We’ll have the footman send word to my mother, and once home, I’ll send the coach back for her.”
Justin sneezed. Could he not, just once, actually save this wench?
“I refuse to allow you to walk when you’re just as likely to catch a chill as I am.”
The sound of horses approaching kept him from telling her that he considered her idea to be a sound one.
The coach waited, with Miss Mossant safely tucked inside, while he made arrangements for the message to be given to Mrs. Mossant. When he finally climbed into the cramped quarters, he was satisfied to see Miss Mossant had located a blanket and wrapped it around herself. His coat had been tossed on the back-facing bench.
She scooted to the far side and gestured for him to join her. “There’s only one blanket, my lord.”
Justin dropped onto the bench across from her. He would have liked to take the corner of the rough wool but could not impose upon her that way. Already, his urges tempted him.
When she shivered, he couldn’t help wishing he’d given in to them so that he could now tuck her up close beside him.
Necessity ought to have dictated that he impose upon her sensibilities but that he also exercise self-control. Which, of course, he would have. He simply wouldn’t have slept well that night.
“Are you unhappy to leave your position as vicar? Now that you are an earl?” Her question took him by surprise.
“I need permission from the bishop, before I can officially retire. I have a worthy curate, however.” He had little doubt the bishop would give his blessing. Justin had an entirely new collection of responsibilities to tend to now.
“So, you aren’t reluctant? To abandon your… flock?”
An edge laced her question. As though she resented his very vocation. As though she resented the church itself. “There are indeed many families, many friends, I’ll regret leaving. But I can always visit.”
She nodded vaguely then folded her arms in front of her. “I imagine they’ll be saddened to lose you.” Again, not words he’d expected to hear.
He shrugged. “Sometimes, we don’t have choices in these matters.” He appreciated her interest but wanted to know more about her. He wanted to dismantle her defenses, understand why she’d so blatantly offended society.
He wanted the veil behind her eyes to lift.
If the rumors were true, hell, if St. John hadn’t lied to him, she was no longer a maiden.
And yet, in her manner, in the rigidity in which she held herself, she did not invite familiarity. He’d guess that she was berating herself more than any snobbish London miss ever could.
Ifthe rumors were true.
