“But I haven’t enough money for gowns!”
“Don’t let that worry you. I’ll frank you.”
Apple began to look agitated. “No, Lord Dymond! I can’t be so beholden to you. It’s bad enough as it is.”
“Won’t be beholden. I’ll keep a tally, and you can pay me back when your trust comes free.”
“Trust? What trust?”
Apple’s eyes lit, and she ignored Georgy’s interjection. “Indeed I can. That’s a splendid notion. But you must be sure to keep a strict accounting. Or rather, Georgy must do so if she is going to help me buy some things.”
A shout of laughter came from Rob at the end of the table. “Georgy? Good God, no. My wife has no head for business at all, Miss Greenaway. You’d best keep the tally yourself.”
Georgy picked up a fragment of left-over tart and threw it down the table at her teasing husband, who batted it away with ease.
“Wretch! But what is all this about a trust, Apple?”
Alex cast a significant glance at the butler, who had re-entered the room with a laden tray. “She’ll tell you presently.”
He watched Berryman take away all but the sweets. In place of the remove, he set out dishes of fruit and cheese, along with a plate of sweetmeats.
Recalling her duties as hostess, Georgy glanced at Apple’s empty plate. “Rob, give Apple another of those tarts, will you? And would you care for cheese, Apple? I will take a spoonful of the damson stew, Alex. Oh, and pray pass me one of the sweetmeats.” While he served her, Georgy reverted to the matter of Apple’s wardrobe. “I can lend her what she needs for the time being. We are much of a height.”
“Yes, but you’re much more buxom and your gowns will hang off Apple,” said Alex with brotherly candour.
“Beast! I suppose you mean to say I am plump.”
“A cosy armful, my darling,” cut in Rob in a placating tone. “I wouldn’t have you any other way.”
“Well, you will if she is increasing,” Apple cut in. “She’ll be about as cosy as a pig at a fair!”
Georgy blinked and Rob stared, but Alex laughed.
“Knew that unaccustomed curb on your tongue would break at last, Apple. She’s nothing if not forthright, when she ain’t feeling shy.”
“I’m not shy!”
“Not with me, no.”
A faint flush mounted to her cheeks, and she glanced from Rob to Georgy. “Was I rude? I beg your pardon.”
Rob smiled at her. “Not at all. Merely frank. Feel free to say whatever you wish. We don’t stand on ceremony here.”
“Gracious, no, for I can’t bear it! I was surprised, that’s all, Apple. But if you should ever meet Mama, I’d advise you to be more circumspect.”
“Good heavens, I hope I don’t! Alex — I mean, Lord Dymond — has said enough of your mother to make me glad I never shall meet her.”
Georgy immediately launched into a recital of Lady Luthrie’s less endearing traits, and Alex listened with only half an ear. His mind was dwelling instead on the sound of his name on Apple’s lips, and the swift apologetic look she’d cast at him when she corrected herself. It had slipped out and it gave him an odd feeling of warmth to think she felt sufficiently at ease with him to use it unthinkingly. Hard to remember he’d only known her a matter of hours. He’d been irritated by the necessity to play the knight errant, as Rob called it. He was astonished to realise that if he could extricate himself now, he wouldn’t wish to.
Chapter Eight
The departure of the gentlemen two days later released Apple from one fear at least. It had occurred to her that if Marjorie put two and two together, Walter might chase down to London and try to suborn Mr Vergette to his scheme. Since the lawyer had already suggested she consider Mr Cumberledge’s offer, Walter might well succeed. But Alex was bound to get there ahead of the Greenaways’ ancient coach.
He’d wasted no time, setting off after breakfast, hard on the heels of Captain Edginton, who would be away to the coast by nightfall, satisfied with the presence of the old nurse, Mrs Reddicliffe, installed in the house by Lord Dymond.
Alex had surprised Apple by returning her pistol, but his farewell had included an admonishment to stay put. “Don’t go getting some odd fancy into your head and taking off.”
“What fancy?”
