Page 32 of Give Him a Chance

“Surely, that’s enough mathematics this early in the morning, Mama,” opined Lady Lucy with a smile she shot in Bernard’s direction, though she immediately flushed and looked elsewhere.

And that was another reason why Bernard had been avoided breakfast.

Oh, it was delightfulness itself to be in Lady Lucy’s company, and that was the problem. Bernard could see the way she looked at him, all interest and intrigue and hope that he would look her way.

The trouble was, it was all too easy to look her way. She was too beautiful, too intriguing for words.

A woman who had been born into such privilege, who did not need to stir her finger even to have her tea poured—ah, a footman has poured me some tea, capital—and yet she went out of her way to help those whom Society itself had decided were no longer worthy of help.

Lady Lucy Chance was extraordinary.

And the best of it all was, she had absolutely no idea.

“The post has arrived, my lord,” came Cawthorne’s quiet voice.

Bernard jumped.

“He always does that,” Lord Percy said conversationally. “I used to put down mouse traps and ring the bell—”

“I knew that was you!” Here Lady Lucy had interrupted, and there was a look of great ire on her pinched face. “And I was blamed for it! All because I moved one of them because I didn’t want the dragon—”

Bernard still did not quite understand why this bizarre yet charming family called dogs ‘dragon,’ and it appeared he would never know.

“Do not bore our…our guest with our family nonsense.” The countess smiled.

‘Guest.’

Oh, Bernard did not blame them. They were not to know he was not really a criminal, but a gentleman serving the government in a secret capacity that he could not speak of. There was not even any real way that he could explain such a thing without betraying the confidences of others.

Still, they were trying. The Chances. They were trying to be polite, trying to share their home with a known criminal, and Bernard had to admit they were doing an admirable job.

Most families would not even consider it. His own father, for example…

Bernard’s jaw tightened and he lifted his teacup to his lips in an attempt to loosen it.Just don’t think about him. Don’t think about any of them.

“And a letter for you, Mr. Dixon,” finished Cawthorne, stepping around the table with a silver platter.

Bernard blinked at the servant. “For—For me?”

It couldn’t be. Not a soul knew he was here, save for Judge Bonner, a few bailiffs, and a couple of solicitors, and he didn’t exactly think he was likely to receive any correspondence from any of them.

“Don’t be daft, man,” Lord Percy said easily, “the man can’t read.”

“And what makes you think that, Percy?” asked Lady Lucy sharply.

Her breath hitched as Bernard’s gaze fell upon her, and he could not help but smile as he remembered that moment they had shared in the study.

“I just… I mean, anyone can learn to read, if they have the opportunity to learn to read,” she said faintly, as though that made sense.

“Very well said, sis.” Her brother rolled his eyes. “Well, I suppose if a man is taught to read, it stands to reason that he might learn to read.”

“Oh, be quiet, Percy,” his father said forbiddingly. “Let the man read his letter.”

Bernard was still not sure whether itwashis letter. A letter? Who on earth could have been writing to him?

But as he looked down, there it was, just as Cawthorne had said. A letter, addressed to him. Well, addressed to his false name, the one he had lived under for years now. Simply addressed, in an envelope of inexpensive cost, a postmark from London—

Ah. And he recognized that handwriting.