Eli dismounted instead of riding around to the stables and climbed up to investigate. The girl, a bit of a thing, didn’t come up to John’s shoulder, but she confronted him with a straight back and commanding voice. Though slender, she had the look of someone used to hard work. She wore a plain, rather rumpled gown. He suspected she had been traveling for some time. An unadorned straw bonnet covered her head.
“Is there a problem here, John?”
“Aye, Mr. Benson. I was explaining to this person—”
“I demand to see the earl,” the chit said at the same time. Face to face, Eli judged her to be fifteen or so. She had cheek for one so young.
“May I ask your business with the earl?” Eli studied her closely. Her face had character. He’d give her that. Perhaps she was older than she first appeared.
“Who are you?” she asked, fire flashing from her eyes. Her very attractive green eyes…Oh no.
“Show some respect, girl,” John said. “This is Mr. Benson, the steward. I’ve been telling you—Mr. Benson will see to whatever it is. The earl isn’t here.”
“Steward, is it? Then you’ll have to help me.” Disappointment inched across her face, driving the determination to the side but not away. She glared up at the footman.
“I’ll deal with this, John. Please care for my horse,” Eli said.
She bounded past John, into the foyer, where she came to an abrupt halt, wide eyes taking in the magnificence that was Clarion Hall’s entrance: the parquet floors, the marble mantle, the gleaming banister curving upward beside carpeted stairs…
She spun toward Eli, that fire raging in her eyes. “The earl will help me. He has to.”
She pulled the ribbon on her bonnet and took it off, shaking her head and loosening a fall of hair. Glorious auburn hair…Oh no.
Eli’s peace had just been upended by a problem—one cursed with Caulfield hair and Caulfield eyes. One encased in the dainty body of a beautiful young woman with the heart of a warrior.
Damn.
