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Kent was where Archie’s country estate was, and where Miss Brown and Archie’s mother spent most of their time.
“Where, then?”
“I was thinking perhaps Scotland.”
“You are going to secure a position as a governess in Scotland?” He raised his eyebrows.
“I am well educated,” she said, a hint of affront in her tone. “I may not use that education a great deal, but I do have it. And I will thank you to stop repeating everything I say in the form of an incredulous question.”
He smiled. She was being uncharacteristically illogical, but her wit was as sharp as ever.
“I’m not questioning your credentials. I’m merely finding it difficult to imagine a family of good reputation engaging the services of a ruined woman as a governess.”
“What about a family of … less good reputation? Do not they need governesses, too?”
She must have interpreted his expression correctly—he was trying to stop asking the incredulous questions she’d called him out for, but he could not help what his face betrayed—for she said, “Well, I shall find a way forward. If I may speak freely …?”
He made a go-ahead gesture but couldn’t resist adding, “Are you not already speaking freely?”
“I come from poverty, and if need be, I can accustom myself to it again.”
“Miss Brown, I am unsure how we have come so far down this conversational path. May we backtrack and you tell me a little more about this forced marriage business?” He wanted to get back to the bit where she was courting ruination in order to avoid an unwelcome union. “Who has proposed to you, and what power has he to compel your answer?”
She looked at him for a long time, with an intensity that ought to have made him uncomfortable but somehow did not. “I have made a mistake.”
“What do you mean?”
“My errors have been both substantive and philosophical.”
“Miss Brown, forgive me, but what are you talking about?”
“I hadn’t thought through what your appearing to ruin me would mean for your friendship with Lord Harcourt, for your self-regard, or for your faith. For these errors in judgment, I apologize. I can say only that my distress has overtaken my common sense. I am sorry to have taken up so much of your time.”
She started to get up.
He had no idea what came over him, but he reached out a hand and caught her forearm. It was covered in that heavy black fabric. He couldn’t help but spare a moment to consider that if she’d been wearing one of her usual dresses, he would now be touching her skin.
Simon hadn’t a great deal of carnal experience, and none of it was recent, but the most shocking thing about touching women, to his mind, was how soft their skin was.
Something stirred in his guts.
“The error you just spoke of—of not taking into account my friendship with Archie or my concern over my own moral code—that was your so-called substantive error?”
“Yes,” she said evenly, gazing at him mildly, as if his hand wasn’t still resting on her arm, as if he hadn’t taken the extraordinary—and extraordinarily rude—step in order to prevent her from leaving.
“And what,” he said, endeavoring to match her mild tone, “was your error of philosophy?”
She didn’t hesitate to answer. “Presuming that someone like you could understand what it is like to be alone in the world. Alone in a household full of people. Alone, period.”
He knew now what was stirring in his gut.
Anger.
He removed his hand from her arm. “Miss Brown, allow me to show you around my house.”
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Fashion Tips for Ambushes
