She digested this. “Oh. You mean you would be compromised.”
“No,you’dbe compromised, silly chit. And I ain’t in the habit of putting young ladies’ reputations at risk. That’s why I’m going to leave you at my sister’s while I do the business with Mr Vergette.”
“Oh.”
“Glad you appreciate the situation.”
Apple was still turning it over in her mind. She had not thought of it, but of course Lord Dymond was right. She was not so ignorant she did not know she ought to have a chaperon, but it had not occurred to her she would need one on this journey. Her scheme had not included a recalcitrant victim who would refuse to let her go on her way.
“It’s your fault. If you hadn’t insisted on being chivalrous, it wouldn’t matter in the least.”
“Chivalrous? I’m not being chivalrous. Merely prudent.”
“Well, you said it had to do with honour, didn’t you?”
“Yes, but —”
“It’s not as if I sued to you for more than a ride for a short distance. Anyone else would have just set me down and gone on their way.”
“Someone else might well have taken advantage of you, my child. Or can’t you even see that?”
“Well, of all the stupid questions! Why do you think I possessed myself of the pistol? And if you are going to leave me with your sister, you’d better give it back to me.”
“So that you can slip off the minute my back is turned? Have a little sense, Apple, do!”
Balked, Apple sat in fulminating silence. He really was perfectly infuriating. Just when she had begun to warm towards him too. Why she ever thought him chivalrous, she could not imagine. He was high-handed, interfering and he did not scruple to laugh at her.
After a while, she bethought her of their destination. “Where does your sister live?”
“Lockerley. She’s married to a military man, but he didn’t want her following the drum and installed her in a house his father gave over to him on his marriage.”
A swathe of gloom overtook Apple. She began to feel out of her depth. “I suppose he is a peer too.”
“His father’s a baron, but plump in the pocket. Rob is his youngest son.”
It was a milieu that filled Apple with apprehension. Miss Godfrey had been voluble on the subject of their aristocratic neighbours in those more exclusive Bath academies. She’d spoken with ill-concealed envy, couched in disdain which Apple had seen through without difficulty, of the world beyond her reach.
“My girls must never be too proud to hold their noses up at lesser men as others do and will. Do not expect a welcome into these august circles, my dears. They are far too high in the instep to notice you. And they would have you know your place.” This last said with an edge that spoke volumes. She had frowned at her pupils, admonishing them to straighten their shoulders and hold their heads up. “You must not allow yourselves to fall into the error of considering yourselves inferior. You have qualities of far more value and worth than mere rank.”
That those qualities were inculcated during her lessons Miss Godfrey did not fail to point out, as Apple rather cynically observed to her friend Jenny. But Jenny, who cherished ambitions of rising out of her sphere, was determined to cultivate all the genteel qualities she could and did not hesitate to ape the manners and bearing of any high-born females who came within their orbit whenever they were permitted to venture out into Bath’s more fashionable quarter. Jenny made it her business to study the Peerage to find out who was who and try to identify any females they encountered. Apple’s interest in the ramifications of the families of peers had been tepid, until this moment.
“Have you only the one sister?”
“No, there’s two of ’em. Charlotte’s the elder. Got two young ’uns already and a new babe.”
“What about brothers?”
“None that lived.”
“I suppose your other sister is married to a peer as well.”
Lord Dymond turned his head. “What’s to do? Why should it throw you into gloom?”
“Because I don’t belong!”
For once he did not laugh. To Apple’s shock, he found her hand and squeezed it. A flutter disturbed her heartbeat.
“Don’t let it worry you. Georgy’s a touch flighty, but she ain’t in the least starched up. Wouldn’t take you to Charlotte, even if she didn’t live too far away. Too much like my mother. She’d be bound to take it in snuff and kick up a dust.”
