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Chapter Three
“Miss Jones?”
Gilbert Barrington, sixth Duke of Rathnelly, amongst many other titles, felt his lips twitch as the small woman nearly leapt into the air when he spoke to her, but she somehow managed not to squeak despite how her lips parted as though a scream were about to erupt. She had been fidgeting with her baggage and hadn’t yet taken the time to look around to see if someone were awaiting her. He didn’t appreciate her preoccupation. It didn’t bode well for his daughter.
But Miss Jones had come highly recommended besides being well educated, and Gilbert didn’t have time to put into finding another companion for Adelina. It had been hard enough finding one that seemed appropriate and was willing to come so far without a proper interview.
The widened eyes she turned upon him when she finally looked in his direction were filled with a mixture of emotions.
“Y-your Grace.” She stumbled over his title as though shocked or awed to see him, but then quickly dipped into a curtsy. He supposed she hadn’t expected him to be the one to collect her from the stagecoach, but his coachman had come down sick, and he had been too restless to stay home that day. Gil was surprised to see her curtsy deepen as a debutante would do, not the universal curtsy of a servant. But then, he supposed, a companion wasn’t quite a servant. He ought to be relieved, in actual fact, that she would be exhibiting appropriate behaviour, but he hadn’t wanted anothertonnishwoman in his house. A good part of the reason for needing a companion for Adelina was because of the fiasco with her governess. It was also the only reason he had agreed to his daughter’s request for a companion.
Gilbert chose to ignore his misgivings about the woman before him. Really, it was ridiculous that he even had misgivings. She put him in mind of a certain young woman he had met previously, but it seemed everything reminded him of Lady Felicity. The fact that his daughter’s new companion had the same first name as well as a similar stature shouldn’t be giving him such a start. But it had definitely been a mark against him hiring the young woman before him.
She was still staring at him with an element of horror written on her face. Gilbert wondered if that were her usual expression or if she were just that surprised by his presence. He wondered too how he could put her at ease.
“Is this all you’ve brought?” he asked as he went to collect her things. She continued to stare at him, the horror deepening.
“You cannot carry, my luggage, Your Grace,” she insisted.
“I cannot allow you to do it.”
“Why ever not? I am in your employ.”
“You are still a gently bred female, are you not?”
She lifted her chin and looked him in the eye. Much to his surprise, she was glaring at him.
“You are Rathnelly. You shall not carry my luggage.”
He glared back at her. “I am Rathnelly and shall do as I please.” He did not relinquish his grasp upon the small trunk he was carrying. Rather than argue further, he grabbed the other bag and strode toward his carriage.
“Come along, Miss Jones, the light is fading.”
Gilbert’s lips twitched again as he heard her frustrated huff. He was also pleased that he didn’t have to tell her again. Before he had gotten far, he heard her scrambling after him, obviously not intending to be left behind.
“Would you care to explain this development, Your Grace?” She finally broke the silence after they were driving along down the road from the inn where the stagecoach had dropped her off. “Your carriage and horses appear to be well cared for, so I find it unlikely that you’ve fallen upon such hard times that you’ve let your coachman go. But I have a hard time imagining a scenario that would require Rathnelly to collect a new hire from the station by himself.”
“I am left wondering if I ought to be disappointed that your imagination is so lacking, in that case. How shall you keep my daughter entertained if you cannot come up with interesting scenarios?”
The sweet peel of laughter this elicited brought a rare smile to Gilbert’s face, stretching it in an unfamiliar way. He quickly suppressed the sensation of amusement.
“I do not normally lack for imagination, Your Grace, I can assure you. But I am unfamiliar with dukes performing such mundane tasks.”
“Are you so familiar with dukes that you are in a position to make such a claim, then, Miss Jones?”
He hadn’t meant to be quite so cool toward the girl, but he couldn’t allow familiarity to creep into their interaction. Any warmth would have to be nipped long before even the bud. He couldn’t allow Adelina to be put in an awkward position.
“I beg your pardon, Your Grace,” was all the answer she offered, but her small voice let him know she had been properly cowed into place.
The silence stretched between them. It shouldn’t have mattered in the least, but somehow Gilbert felt compelled to break it.
“If you must know, the coachman broke his leg.”
“Oh no, I hope it wasn’t terribly painful.”
Gilbert’s lips twitched again, but he ignored the impulse. “Have you ever broken a bone, Miss Jones?”
“No, but I know a horse would be killed for such a thing, so I’m certain it must be a terrible experience.”
