“You can see him if you like. I am going to visit my friend Louisa.” She gestured down the lane. “Her family home is right past the churchyard. If she does not live there now, someone will know where she is.”
“I will escort you, in case you need the carriage.”
They strolled down the lane, past houses that looked like Mr. Portman’s. Davina had not realized how small many of the homes were. As a girl, they were what she knew. After spending several years in Edinburgh, village homes and cottages shrank considerably.
They passed the stone church, and she called at Louisa’s house. She learned that Louisa had married a farmer and lived about a mile east of the village.
“It appears you will be needing the carriage,” Brentworth said.
“It is only a mile.”
Too late. The carriage had been trailing them and now approached more quickly when Brentworth raised his arm.
She climbed in and was surprised when he stepped in too.
“You were going to see a roofer.”
“I will first see you to your friend’s home. Then I will visit the roofer, and we will return for you.”
The duke had decided how it would be, and she doubted all the reason she could muster would change his mind.
“Is this how ladies live, with gentlemen escorting them to and fro everywhere they go?”
“It might be a footman, not a gentleman.”
“How sad.”
“It is only for their protection.”
“That is not true. It is also to deprive them of freedom to do as they choose.”
“What a cynical idea. What can’t a lady do if she has the protection of an escort?”
Davina gave it some thought. “Visit a friend who is not approved of by her family or husband. Or an area of town where she normally would not go. Or—or, a man. She could not simply call on a man without it being known to those who seek to protect her.”
His lids lowered. “That is because it is from such as he that they protect her.”
“Depending on who he is, that could be sad too.”
He cocked his head. “Do you seek to be relieved of my company so you can visit a man? Perhaps an old beau from when you lived here?”
“Of course not.”
“Then indulge my old-fashioned notions of my duties as a gentleman.”
“If we are going to be particular about my protection, shouldn’t there be someone else here? A chaperone?”
He just looked at her.
“Another woman,” she continued, managing not to falter under that intense gaze. “To protect me from you. Not that I need protection from you, of course, but then, I do not need any protection to speak of from anyone. It has just been your sense of obligation and duty. However, it is a fine line, isn’t it?” She kept talking, trying to backstep from the implications of what she was saying but discovering she only walked in deeper. “I am just speaking about where strict propriety lands one in such situations, that is all, not that I in any way am in any danger from you, goodness no, but if one follows your way of thinking, one finds oneself admitting that this is not exactly acceptable, even if I am no child. Not that I would say that you do unacceptable things . . .” Her last words drifted out into the silence across from her.
“Your point, which was in there somewhere, is well taken. I cannot disagree with anything you said except one small part.”
“Which part is that?”
“The part where you said you do not need protection from me.” He looked out the window. “It appears we are here.”
* * *
