“No, Lord Roswell was with me, but he was hit over the head with a large rock, knocking him to the ground,” Anette explained.
Mr. Barnard looked unimpressed by her admission. “It was most fortunate that you were able to thwart your attacker then.”
“Anette carries a pistol in her reticule,” Octavia shared. “That is how she was able to escape.”
“A pretty lady such as Miss Bolingbroke shouldn’t have to resort to such tactics to remain safe,” Mr. Barnard said.
Roswell clenched his jaw. “Miss Bolingbroke is a capable young woman,” he grumbled.
“I did not mean to suggest otherwise,” Mr. Barnard responded. “I just meant that it is a shame that you were incapacitated and were unable to assist her.”
Anette saw Roswell’s back go rigid and she knew that Mr. Barnard’s words had hit their mark. Roswell harbored immense guilt for not being able to protect her, and she feared that his anger would be unleashed on Mr. Barnard, making this carriage ride even more deucedly uncomfortable than it already was.
Octavia must have sensed Roswell’s anger because she rushed to change the subject. “Where do you hail from?” she asked Mr. Barnard.
“Paris,” came his prompt reply.
“Is it charming?” Octavia asked.
Mr. Barnard chuckled. “Charming?” he repeated. “I would not consider Paris charming. It is terribly overcrowded, dark and the streets are very dangerous, especially at night. The growing divide between the wealthy and poor is causing great turmoil amongst the lower classes.”
“It is similar here, as well,” Octavia said.
“I was fortunate that my parents have an estate in Marseille and we were able to escape Paris for a time,” Mr. Barnard revealed.
Anette snuck a glance at Roswell and saw that he still appeared on edge. Perhaps it was a mistake to have come on this carriage ride in the first place.
The carriage came to a stop in front of his townhouse and Roswell stepped down onto the pavement. He had been counting down the moments until he could be free of Mr. Barnard. The man was infuriating. He went on and on about his childhood and Octavia seemed to hang on his every word. What was it about him that intrigued his sister?
Roswell assisted the ladies out of the carriage and was pleased to see Mr. Barnard remain in his seat.
Mr. Barnard smiled down at Octavia; a most vexing of smiles. “Thank you for accompanying me. We shall have to do it again.”
Octavia returned his smile. “I will be looking forward to it.”
Turning his head towards Anette, Mr. Barnard tipped his head. “It was a pleasure to get to know you, Miss Bolingbroke.”
“Likewise, Mr. Barnard,” Anette replied graciously.
Roswell offered his arms to the ladies and asked, “Shall we go inside and get off the pavement?”
As he led the ladies into the townhouse, Octavia leaned closer to him and whispered, “That was poorly done on your part, Brother.”
He knew his sister was about to chide him on his impertinence, but he thought it would be best if he feigned ignorance. “I beg your pardon?”
“You could have been nicer to Mr. Barnard,” Octavia replied.
“Whatever for?”
Octavia shook her head. “I do not know why you took an immediate dislike for Mr. Barnard, but it is childish, and dare I say, petty,” she said as she slipped her hand off his when they arrived in the entry hall.
“I don’t know why you insist on spending time with him,” Roswell stated.
“Mr. Barnard is a welcome distraction,” Octavia said.
“He is a nuisance,” Roswell muttered.
Octavia sighed as she turned her attention towards Anette. “What are your thoughts on Mr. Barnard?”
