“Thank you, no,” she said bitterly. “I have had enough of gentlemen for one day.”
“I thought you might, but I am also sure you’ll feel better for a quick conversation with me. I can be a perfect gentleman when I choose.”
She eyed him with hostility, wishing he were not quite so handsome. “And when precisely do you choose?”
“When I’m driving for one. The horses are quite headstrong.” He transferred the ribbons to one hand and reached down to her. “Please?”
It might have been the please. Or the memory of his previous good turn. It was not his fault that Sir Hugh would not leave her alone. In fact, he had made it possible for her to escape without assaulting the—
She blinked and accepted his hand to climb up beside him. He set the horses immediately into motion.
She said, “You should have taken the road. It is better for vehicles. This path is often impassably muddy.”
“I took a chance since it has been dry the last couple of days, and I suspected you would come this way.”
She spared him a disdainful glance, just in case he was influenced by Sir Hugh’s opinion of her. “What is that to you?”
“Only that I have something for you.” He rummaged in his coat pocket. “From Mansel.”
With a triumphant flourish, he held up a shilling. When she only stared at it, he dropped it into her lap, and she closed her fingers around it before it slid off.
“Really?” she said doubtfully.
“It comes with an apology.”
She couldn’t help it. She snorted, and he laughed. It was an infectious sound, deep and musical and dangerously beguiling.
“I don’t believe you,” she said stiffly.
“I’m not surprised. But I did extract the shilling without having to threaten, and I convinced him the apology would make for an easier life in his own home and out of it. All the same, if I were you, I would find alternative employment.”
“Why didn’t I think of that?” she said with ferocious sarcasm, then wished she hadn’t. Her face flamed with shame. “Thank you,” she added with difficulty and slipped the coin into her dress pocket, covering it with her thin handkerchief to be sure it wouldn’t fall out. Twisting her hands together in her lap, she drew in a sharp breath. “I hope you do not think Sir Hugh’s behaviour is caused by anything I have ever said or done. I have never encouraged his attentions. In fact, I have no idea what set him off.”
“His own sense of entitlement,” Mr. Durward said cheerfully. “No doubt augmented by your current circumstances, if you’ll pardon my mentioning it.”
“You do not know my circumstances,” she said grandly.
“I can guess. You are chained to Harwich by your father’s dependence and limited by his reputation in your possibilities of local employment.”
In a nutshell.“He wasn’t always like this,” she said defensively. “He just needs time to get back on his feet. My mother’s death threw him off course a little.”
“I’m sorry. When did she die?”
“Four and a half years ago.”
“When he was still a respected ship’s captain?”
“He was,” Carina said defiantly. “And he will be again.”
“Not while he refuses to shift for himself.”
Indignantly, she began, “He goes every day to the harbour—”
“Too late to catch most of the work, though it gives him opportunity to meet some drinking companions.”
She glared at him, furious that he was right and that he dared say the words to her. But he met her gaze without flinching.
“You make it too easy for him. You look after him, forgive him, earn the coin that he should, and waste your life.”
