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Who was he? Why was he asking such questions? “I’m afraid I do not understand your interest in such things, but I can assure you that Mrs. Stapleton is all that is good and kind.”
He straightened in the gig. “Oh, I beg your pardon, I meant no disrespect. I have had a tiring journey and just learned some hard news, and simply wanted to ascertain if Miss Mannering was being cared for appropriately. I understood the gentleman to have quite a keen interest in the case.”
All feelings of goodwill disappeared as the man’s meaning became plain. He thought her grandfather had an unwholesome interest in poor Becky? Her chin rose. “I can assure you that he ensures Miss Mannering is receiving the best of care.” She frowned. “Who are you to ask such impertinent questions, if you please?”
“Madam, I meant no—”
“Have you been sent by her uncle? Are you his man of business? Or perhaps some kind of enquiry agent sent to spy out the land?” She eyed his attire. “That might account for your less-than-genteel attire.”
He flushed. “Forgive me, I certainly did not intend to incite such hostilities today.”
“I am glad to hear it. If you had, that would make you the veriest scoundrel.”
Much to her astonishment, the weariness of his features lifted as he laughed.
Her indignation faded, chased with chagrin as she realized just what she had said. Surely someone who could laugh as richly as that could not be all bad. “Please, I feel that I must beg your forgiveness for being so rude. We are not used to strangers here, and Miss Mannering’s situation is quite challenging.”
“How so?”
She wondered at herself. She was not usually such a prattlebox, especially with strangers. But this man’s interest drew her from the bounds of propriety. Perhaps it was the way he looked at her, gravely yet with respect, that gave the oddest sense that with him she was safe. Perhaps it was the way he’d asked, with an earnestness that tugged at the emotion she’d had little chance to express and which now threatened her composure.
“Her mother’s recent passing”—she swallowed, forced strength to her suddenly wobbling voice—“has proved most trying.”
“You knew Mrs. Mannering?”
“She was my dearest friend.”
His regard deepened, his grey eyes holding her gaze in a moment of sympathetic accord that seemed to subtly shift him from stranger to acquaintance. Like a page turned in a book, his features, which had seemed so nondescript before, now owned a new understated appeal. Such a revelation happened so quickly, and proved so surprising, that she was disconcerted and rushed to add, “Becky is such a sweet little thing, and holds her uncle in the greatest of trepidation.”
“Really?”
“I’m afraid I should not be saying such things. Especially to a stranger.”
“Thank you, madam. I promise I shall not pass on such things to him.”
“So youarehere on his behalf?”
He inclined his head. “You could say that, I suppose.”
“Then please forgive me for being indiscreet. I did not mean to cast aspersions about a man I’ve never met.”
“It is far better, I agree, to cast aspersions against someone one has met.”
That tweak of his lips dissolved her protest. Or maybe it disappeared due to a horrifying desire to laugh.
“May I ask as to why Miss Mannering fears her uncle’s return?”
“She is simply in such a quake at the thought of being taken away. But truly, I should not speak so honestly to a stranger.”
“No, it is far more appropriate to speak dishonestly to a stranger, it is true.”
Conscious she should not be exchanging frivolities with a man she had yet to be introduced to, she straightened and moved to depart.
His voice stopped her again. “Tell me, do you find me so very strange?”
“I beg your pardon, sir?”
“It is I who should be begging yours, madam. I forgot myself.”
