Rosanna narrowed her eyes at that sorry excuse of an apology, for it wasn’t an actual admission of fault. He wasn’t apologizing for behaving like a cad, but for the fact that she thought him a cad. These were the sort of words she’d heard far too many times from the Mr. Courtneys of the world.
Taking Bess’s reins, Rosanna attempted the climb again and managed it, though Mr. Malcolm’s hands helped to guide her inside. Just as she was about to urge Bess forward, he held fast to the horse’s tack.
“Miss Leigh, please do not let us part in such a fashion. I truly didn’t mean to offend you, but I would very much like the opportunity to make amends by accompanying you on your errands.” He glanced at the other baskets beneath her seat. “It seems you have your hands full today, and if you should meet with another accident, then you would require a strapping young man to assist you.”
“And how would your company resolve that issue?” asked Rosanna with a narrowed look.
Mr. Malcolm grabbed his chest as though the words had caused a mortal wound, and with a tone that was far too melodramatic to be believed, he whispered, “You pain me, my lady.”
And heaven help her, a smile rose to her lips.
Shoulders dropping, Rosanna sighed and turned her face once more to the sky, as though that expanse of blue might pour into her mind the answers of the universe. What it didn’t do was calm the quickened beat of her heart, which enjoyed scoundrels far too much for her good.
Had she truly not learned her lesson? Mr. Courtney had been such a charming fellow, quick with a honeyed word and a teasing jest, only to turn into a demanding cad the moment she had rejected his offer of marriage. Arrogant men were a blight, and she ought to leave, but despite his bungling, Rosanna couldn’t help but feel attracted to the fellow.
Which was ridiculous in so many ways.
Yet for all that he had behaved in a boorish manner moments ago, Mr. Malcolm quickly abandoned impudent ways, not pressing his cause any further. Perhaps that was a poor standard to cling to, but Rosanna’s experience had taught her that men were rarely dissuaded by words alone. But she quickly amended that thought, for she knew plenty of gentlemen and ladies who thought nothing of handing out kisses—the former for their entertainment and the latter to entrap their matrimonial prey (with varying degrees of success).
Why did people treat affection so cheaply?
Mr. Malcolm cleared his throat, and Rosanna straightened once more, her gaze dropping to him as he stood at the ready, his expression alight with the swagger of a man who knew the war was won before the final blow had been struck. And Rosanna knew she was fighting a losing battle.
This afternoon had already been a disaster, and Mr. Malcolm had such a way of enlivening her spirits. Despite how morose she’d been the other day, he’d managed to make her laugh and smile, and Rosanna needed a dose of that joviality at present. Apparently, she had a weakness for pompous fools—whether master or servant.
“If you insist,” she said, motioning to the empty seat beside her. “But if you vex me again, I will dump you on the side of the road without a backward glance.”
Chapter 6
Only a fool would smile at Miss Leigh’s declaration, and though he played one at times, Malcolm Tate was clever enough to know not to tempt fate—even if she was quite fetching with her dander up. Allowing himself a small smile as he stepped around the gig (and was very much out of sight of her keen eyes), Malcolm climbed up into the seat.
But just as he was settling, Miss Leigh turned a furrowed brow to him.
“Are you certain you can leave?” she asked, her light eyes brimming with concern. “I hadn’t thought of it when I accepted your assistance, but surely your master will not like your gallivanting about when there is work to be done.”
Malcolm’s heart panged him once more, echoing the uncomfortable feeling he’d waded into when she’d chided him for his ungentlemanly behavior. It was an odd sensation, and he couldn’t say he cared for it. Sending a thought inward, he reminded his silly heart there was no reason to feel uneasy. These weren’t lies precisely, for deceit was used to hide wicked things.
Being more than he claimed to be wasn’t truly dishonest. It would cause no harm. His true standing in society was a good thing, after all. This was merely an omission.
And how else was he going to discern Miss Leigh’s true feelings?
Besides, Malcolm liked her fiery temperament, and he doubted the young lady would dare let her tongue fly with such freedom if she knew his identity. Ladies always played the docile mouse or the aggressive temptress, and though they tended towards the former more than the latter, neither persona was appealing.
“You needn’t worry on that score,” he said, though his heart warmed at the clear evidence of her concern for him when her brow furrowed. “My master is a generous soul. He won’t mind my absence for an hour or two.”
Miss Leigh gave a vague huff at that and readied the reins on her hands. “If you are certain, I shan’t contradict you.”
Reaching over, Malcolm took the reins from her. Something in the pull of the wheels hinted that damage had been done to the gig, and though it felt as though it would make the journey, he was grateful he was driving. Malcolm didn’t wish to risk Miss Leigh getting stranded alone again.
When he glanced at her, he found her watching him with a narrowed look.
“I am able to drive, sir,” she said.
“But I am a groom, miss. Quite skilled with the ribbons, as you see. Besides, you wouldn’t want people to wonder why you’re driving a strange man about in your gig.”
“I hadn’t thought of that,” she murmured, her brows furrowed.
“Don’t fret,” he said with a smile, propping one foot up on the front. “No one will think anything of a servant driving his mistress around. Just guide me to our destination, and all will be well.”
