“Mary is a terrible chaperone,” he growled when he’d regained his composure. “If I wanted to kiss you, she couldn’t stop me.”
“Mary isn’t in charge of my choices or my actions,” Rebecca replied softly. “I am.”
His jaw tightened. “Then you shouldn’t have let me accompany you.”
She nodded. “I know.”
As they approached the village, Daniel pointed at a painted sign. “Is that a milliner?”
“The only milliner,” she acknowledged. “Right next door to the only modiste.”
“Let me buy you some gowns.” He turned and gazed down at her earnestly. “You look beautiful because you can’t help but be beautiful, but if a new wardrobe would make your life easier… It would be my honor to help in any way I can.”
She was tempted. For the teeny, tiny space of a heartbeat, she wanted more than anything to say yes.
Not because she cared what the village gentlemen thought of her. But because she wanted Daniel to see her looking her best. As elegant and refined as the sophisticated ladies he was used to. She didn’t want him to beattracted. She wanted to steal his breath away, the way he’d always stolen hers.
“No,” she said aloud. “I don’t want your money.”
The more she thought about it, the more it sickened her. For how many women had he made a similar offer? Was half of London’s most ravishing ingénues clothed on the viscount’s penny? The last thing she wanted to be was just another name on his list.
He reached for her arm. “Rebecca, listen to me. There’s no one else I’d rather spend my—”
“It’s unnecessary.” She jerked free from his grasp. “I refuse to wed a fool who chooses his bride based on the modishness of her gowns. That’s not a husband I’d want. I intend to marry the first man who wants me forme.”
Daniel stared at her for a long moment.
She stared back defiantly.
“Not thefirstman,” he muttered and jerked his shoulders back toward the street. “Is that a tavern?”
“The best public house in town.”
“Thank God.” He straightened his hat. “I could use a drink.”
So could she.
Daniel strode up to the bar, where two local gentlemen perched on wooden stools.
Both leaped to their feet and doffed their hats when they caught sight of Rebecca.
“Good day, miss,” said the blond one. “I’m Mr. Harrod. How do you do?”
“I’m Mr. Gruger,” said the red-haired gentleman. “May I offer you a drink? Or perhaps nuncheon?”
“Iwas going to buy her a drink,” Mr. Harrod complained. “We haven’t even finished the introductions.”
“Then you should have asked first,” Mr. Gruger said smugly. “Miss? Would you like a glass of wine?”
“Iwill buy her drinks,” Daniel thundered, his green eyes flashing.
Rebecca folded her arms beneath her breasts in annoyance. If she couldn’t have him, then he bloody well shouldn’t ruin her chances of meeting someone else. She arched a pointed eyebrow in his direction. “You will not purchase a thing.” She smiled at the others. “Lovely to meet you, Mr. Harrod, Mr. Gruger. I am Miss Bond and I’m positively famished.”
Both gentlemen glanced over their shoulders at Daniel.
With obvious effort, he waved their concerns away. “Buy her whatever you like. I’m her… guardian. Her protective, all-seeing guardian. Treat her with respect. I’ll be right over here.”
After the briefest of hesitation, Mr. Gruger found a table to share at the opposite end of the tavern from where Daniel was perched.
