His cheeks were flushed to a deep crimson, and she doubted that it was from the exertion for so fit a man. “Luck!” he spat. “I have been cursed from the moment I drank that brandy!”
“I beg your pardon?”
“It is none of your concern,” he snapped, all the while glaring down the street. “This has been an absurd waste of my time. I must have been daft to agree to this scheme!”
“See here, sir, there is no cause to become irritable with me! I have done what I could, and I daresay more than any other would have—certainly more than any rational person would have bothered with, for you are a testy, disdainful man. I do not expect you to kiss my feet in gratitude, but a man who claims to be a gentleman would not behave with such incivility!”
He whirled, his gaze heated and intense. “You think me uncivil! Have I not some provocation? I could have been about something useful these two hours, something which might have done me some good!”
“Spare your energies for the party who has wronged you, for it was not myself. How was I to know we would scarcely miss him? Now, if you will excuse me, sir, I believe our business is finished, unless you are fast enough to catch that carriage.”
She turned on her heel to march toward the corner, thinking of hailing another coach, but he was at her elbow in two strides. “Where are you going, Miss Bennet?”
“Back to Gracechurch Street. I have just had an epiphany.”
“And what is that?”
“That if I seek to avoid the demands and company of irksome gentlemen, I would do better to tolerate my aunt’s guest. At least he is witless enough to be laughed at.”
“I am glad you do not think me witless, but I apologise if you found me irksome just now. I have seldom been so frustrated by circumstances.”
“I suggest you accustom yourself to frustration, for it is the way of the world. The rest of us cannot afford to orchestrate our liveswithout some level of inconvenience. Consider it an exercise in character development.”
“I have character enough, I thank you. Come, Miss Bennet, I have apologised once, and I never do so twice, but I do so now. It was not my intention to insult you after you attempted to help me.”
She stopped, glanced at the hand he had touched to her elbow to catch her attention and looked back to his face. He dropped his hand as though she had scalded him, seemingly as surprised as she was to find that he was touching her again.
“A gallant apology does not compensate for the arrogance of the trespass. You are too quick to assume an inconvenience as a personal affront.”
“And you are too quick to wilfully misunderstand. My frustration was of a more general nature. Toward you, I have expressed my indebtedness.”
“A strange way you have of doing so!”
“Must I apologise a third time? I believe I have given you to understand the gravity of my situation. Is not my annoyance at least somewhat justifiable? Would you not—or, rather,haveyou not—suffered a like circumstance?”
Elizabeth sighed loudly. “Very well, I can find it in my heart to forgive you, but I am afraid that nothing more can be done here. I shall return to Gracechurch Street, for my family will eventually begin to wonder where I am.”
“I do not doubt it. Surely, however, before we go, there must be someone in that office there who can tell us if your uncle is expected back soon or, perhaps, where they have gone.”
“Did you not see that third man? The one with the brown coat turned and locked the door. There will be no one there. I am afraid we must concede. Perhaps if you leave with me your direction, I may speak with my uncle this evening when he returns home. Surely you can find some other way to avoid your… entanglement… for just one more day? The parson will certainly not be waiting on your doorstep!”
His eyes rolled upward in thought. “I doubt that I can, for the moment I do return to my house, I shall be set upon by a score of angry relatives demanding my capitulation. I shall not trouble you with the particulars, but even my staff are not to be relied upon. If I have not some evidence for my own protection in my hand upon my arrival, it will become all but impossible to deny their claims.”
“Would that a lady’s testimony would do as well as my uncle’s!”
He gazed down at her for a long moment, appearing to contemplate something very deeply. When he spoke again, it was in a soft voice. “I believe we both know what other complications would arise in that case. I would not wish it upon you, Miss Bennet.”
She coloured, looking away. “My aunt is a respectably married woman. Surely, her testimony—”
“Would be considered that of an interested party with two unmarried nieces under her roof. No, Miss Bennet, it is impossible. It was enough risk to consider your uncle’s word, but a lady’s… it is out of the question.” He sighed, his gaze wandering toward Saint Paul’s Cathedral in the distance. “Perhaps Wilson or Fitzwilliam has discovered something I might find useful, for that is my best chance.”
Elizabeth smiled regretfully and dipped him a curtsy. “May I wish you the very best in your search, sir. If you still have need of my uncle by the morrow, we would be happy to receive you.”
“You speak as if you are abandoning me, Miss Bennet.”
“I think it for the best, sir. You do not need the additional scandal of being recognised with yet another lady, and I have my own reputation to consider.”
“I am ordinarily inclined to agree with you, Miss Bennet, but under the circumstances…” he looked over his shoulder, across the street from where they stood, to a hotel. “I have hardly eaten today, and I believe some fortification is required before I mount the back of another carriage.”
