“Well, I said you should let me go on my way. Will you ask the landlord when the stage is due, if you please?”
Alex threw his hands in the air. “Incorrigible little monkey! If I don’t end by slaughtering you, it will be a miracle!”
To his mingled relief and frustration, she erupted into giggles. Spying the tarts, she took one and nibbled at it. “Mmm, these are good, Mr — I mean, Lord Dymond, if that is who you are. You should have one.”
On the words, she urged the dish in his direction. Alex reached out for one, cocking an eyebrow. “Trying to turn me up sweet?”
The mischievous look reappeared. “I just wanted you to share in the treat.”
“Too kind, Miss Greenaway.” He mimicked her, nibbling at the tart. “Mmm, very good indeed.”
For an instant, a flash showed in her eyes. But the expected protest did not come. Instead she chewed in silence for a moment. Alex received a limpid look of innocence.
“May I have more coffee, if you please?”
He eyed her with suspicion as he poured her another cup. “What are you up to?”
Her brows rose. “Nothing at all.”
She sipped the coffee. Her fingers hovered over the tarts again, and then drew back. She looked at him. “So you are going to be an earl?”
Surprised, he flicked back in memory through what he’d said. Had he given it away? With caution, he acknowledged it. “In due course.”
“Are you married?”
“Not that it’s any of your concern, but no.”
Her tone changed. “Well, it wasn’t any of your concern to ask me questions, was it?”
“That’s a different matter.”
“It would be.”
He was nettled. “What the deuce does that mean?”
The air of interest disappeared. “It’s all of a piece. You may demand answers from me, but the moment I have a question, it’s none of my concern. I had thought you different, but now I see you are just like Walter and Marjorie. Papa too. No one ever tells me anything. I didn’t know I was going to have to live with Walter and Marjorie until it happened, and I’m not even allowed to know how much is in the trust — and it’s my money. And now, when I try at least to know a little about a horrid man who refuses to let me go on my way, you behave as if I am plotting something and I’m not!”
The tirade ended on a distinct sob, and Alex was thrown into disorder.
“Hey! No need to cry about it.”
“I’m not crying!”
But she was hunting for the handkerchief he’d given her. An image popped into his head. She’d stuffed it into the pocket of her cloak. Probably without thinking. Alex got up and went across to where she’d discarded it and found the crumpled ball.
Miss Greenaway snatched it from his hand when he presented it, glaring up at him as she blew her nose with defiance.
Alex re-seated himself and took a draught from his abandoned ale, feeling in need of a restorative. Then he eyed the girl in some frustration. “Beg pardon if I seem horrid to you, but I’m trying to help.”
She sniffed, a flush mantling her cheeks. “I didn’t really mean that. You’re not horrid. At least, not as horrid as Walter.”
Alex managed to refrain from laughing. “Obliged to you.”
She eyed him, doubt in her face.
He lifted an eyebrow. “Well, what?”
She drew an audible breath. “If you really are heir to an earl, you ought not to be doing this.”
