Page 18 of The Pleasure in Persuasion

“To keep him out of your hair. I didn’t think he seemed totally convinced by our charade. But if he sees me here every day...” He spread his hands wide.

Miss Grayling eyed him for a long moment, long enough for Frederick to suspect she was scrutinizing more than just his offer.

“And what would you want in exchange for your services?” she finally asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

Frederick couldn’t help but smile. “Have you always been so cynical, Miss Grayling?”

She cocked one brow. “Then you don’t want anything in return?”

“Actually, I do.”

A knowing look crossed her face. “Which is?”

“I want you to let me help you out around the inn.”

“Excuse me?” she asked, confusion knitting her brow.

“I want you to let me help you—”

“I heard what you said, Mr. Darrington,” she interrupted, holding up a hand. “What I don’t understand is why you would wish to do that.”

“I’ve never worked at an inn before,” he said with a lopsided grin. “I thought it might be a fun diversion.”

She stared at him as if he’d said he liked to eat worms.

“You may assign me whatever chores you wish,” he pressed on, “and I will do them all to the best of my ability.”

Still smiling, he returned her unflinching gaze, rather pleased with himself and his selfless offer.

“I do not need your help, Mr. Darrington. I am perfectly capable of managing the fun myself.” Her voice had turned decidedly frosty, but it was nothing to the ice in her turquoise eyes.

Bollocks. He’d offended her.

Frederick sighed inwardly. He wasn’t usually so clumsy with his words, but this woman seemed to upset his balance without even trying.

“I know you don’t need my help,” he assured her. “But wouldn’t it be nice to have it, if only for a few days? Surely your grandmother would accept an offer of free labor.”

Miss Grayling did not smile at the last remark like he’d hoped she would, but she did seem to be considering the idea, and that was something at least. He had no idea what had happened in her past to make her so distrusting, but whatever it was, it must have cut her very deeply.

“I would like to see Gran rest more,” she mused softly. “And we could use an extra pair of hands in the apple orchard. The trees are brimming with apples.”

“And, of course,” Frederick offered, “the more I’m here at the inn, the less likely Mr. Carstairs will be.”

Miss Grayling nodded slowly, her eyes gleaming, the idea clearly attractive to her.

“All right, Mr. Darrington,” she said briskly. “I accept.”