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“Not to mention someone might have seen us together and think…”
Her brows rose. “That we were lovers?” She gave a brief, tight smile. “Do not fear, Lord Kendall, no one would suspect you of bedding the help. You do not have that sort of reputation.”
He frowned. The words were not biting yet he felt as though she had taken a chunk from him and he could not figure out why. Having a reputation for not being a rake was a good thing surely? He could not have wounded her pride by saying it was a mistake. She’d said the same, after all.
“You should put an end to this, Chastity. Leave and be with your sisters,” he said tersely.
“Not a chance.”
“You have found out nothing. This is a waste of time.” And despite what he had told himself, he wasn’t certain he could really survive much longer with her pottering around his house.
“I will find out what happened, I know it.” Her jaw remained tense. “Eleanor is still gravely hurt. I cannot just let this be.”
Blast, why did she have to bring up her sister? He’d immediately liked Eleanor and her gentle but curious manner. She did not care for the foibles of Society either—he could tell by the way she’d been tinkering with a figurine rather than embroidering or painting or taking part in the softer arts.
The fact he respected her sister and Chastity’s love for her did not help him summon a good argument to get her to leave.
“You should go,” he said vaguely, clawing his mind for a firmer response. All he could find was images of bare skin and lace.
“I’m staying and that is final.”
“I am your employer,” he called after her as she turned away, her clothing and some linen of some kind bundled under her arm.
He pinched the bridge of his nose. He wished he understood her—yet he did not. Understanding her would mean getting closer to her. Forgetting how back in his old life—a life he wanted nothing to do with—with utter ease would be a mistake.
That lifestyle…those people…they had ruined his family, and he would never forget that.
