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‘Penny for them?’ Her brother was lounging in the doorway, an amused smile on his face at her abstraction.
‘I was just thinking about you. Have you seen Harriet today?’
‘Barely ten minutes ago. I took her walking in Hyde Park under the eye of her mama. The approving eye, I flatter myself.’ He came and sat down where Ashe had been, another long-legged, attractive aristocrat to grace the little room.
Phyllida’s conscience gave a twinge. ‘You do like Harriet, don’t you, Gregory? Really feel some affection for her, I mean? I like her very much and I would hate to think she was going to end up the loser in a transaction between her parents and you.’
He raised an eyebrow. ‘Are you asking if I will be faithful to her?’
‘Well, yes, I suppose I am. And kind to her, a proper companion. She is too intelligent and sensitive to be fobbed off while you gallivant about town spending her money.’
‘Ouch.’ To her surprise he neither laughed it off or became angry. ‘You are right, of course. If she was one of those empty-headed little geese who only wants a title it wouldn’t matter, but I do like her and I think we could make a go of it.’ He grimaced. ‘If she’ll have me.’
‘Are you going to speak to her father?’
‘They’ve asked me to their box at the theatre on Monday. I was going to see how Millington seems towards me then. If he looks amiable, I’ll go and talk to him on Tuesday. If he’s starchy, I’ll expose them all to my many charms and talents for a few more days before I put it to the test.’
‘Would you mind if I left town for a while?’
‘No, of course not. Where are y
ou going? Amanda Lewis in Essex?’
It was harder to explain than she thought it would be. Phyllida found herself scrabbling round for the right way to word it, almost as though she had a guilty conscience. This is business, she told herself. ‘Lord Clere has asked me, on behalf of his father, to assess some items at their country seat in Hertfordshire. I would need to leave the day after tomorrow. It should take about five days in all.’
‘That’s good,’ Gregory said. ‘I should imagine you’ll get on well with the marchioness and Lady Sara. Finding the pace in town a bit hectic and needing a rest, are they?’
‘Actually…’ Oh Lord, how to put this? ‘They aren’t going. Nor the marquess. Lord Clere is arranging a chaise for me and Anna.’
Gregory, it seemed, was not quite as relaxed as he looked. ‘What?’ He sat bolt upright. ‘Are you telling me you are going off with that rake?’
‘He is not a rake! Is he?’ she asked, suddenly dubious. ‘How do you know?’
‘It takes one to know one,’ her brother said darkly.
‘Oh, really, Gregory! Either come up with some evidence—ruined maidens, drunken orgies or three-day gambling sessions—or stop slandering the poor man. I thought you liked him and, besides, he is not coming in the chaise and his great-aunt will move from the Dower House, so I will be perfectly adequately chaperoned.’ I hope.
‘I ought to go and talk to him about this.’ But her brother sat back again, apparently mollified.
‘Certainly,’ Phyllida said, hoping she did not sound uncharacteristically meek. Please don’t! ‘I really appreciate you doing something so potentially embarrassing for me,’ she added with sisterly cunning.
He rolled his eyes. ‘I suppose it would be a bit awkward, asking him his intentions like that. Might be open to misunderstanding.’
‘Whatever you think best, Gregory,’ Phyllida said. ‘But the real danger is that anyone discovers why I am away. So, if you’re asked, just say that I’ve gone into the country to stay with friends for five days for a rest. Will you do that?’
He nodded and got to his feet. ‘Got to get changed. I’ll see you at dinner, Phyll.’
Left alone, she tried to decide whether she was happy that she had persuaded Gregory of the wisdom of this expedition or not. Five days with Ashe Herriard. Was that going to be Heaven—or hell?
Chapter Nine
‘Good morning, Miss Hurst.’ Lord Clere stood on her top step, looking indecently awake and perfectly groomed, just like the rather handsome bay gelding that was tethered by its reins to the area railings. Also sleek, male and alert was Lucifer, perched on the pommel.
Phyllida, on the other hand, was feeling harassed, wan, decidedly out of sorts and in no mood to be amused by evil-minded crows. It was one thing to agree to hazard one’s reputation in the safety of one’s own drawing room, but two nights in which to fret over it—in the intervals between fantasising most unwisely about the person of Ashe Herriard—was two nights too long.
‘Lord Clere. We are ready, as you see. Come along, Anna, don’t keep his lordship waiting.’ The street, mercifully, was empty. It had only just occurred to her that to be seen getting into a hired chaise in the company of a man not her brother was more than enough to cause scandal, regardless of her motives for doing so.
‘Are you comfortable, Miss Hurst?’ he enquired when she was seated and wishing she had thought to add a veil to her bonnet.
