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“No, no. Don’t spoil it with apology. Tell me, Miss Stapleton, what would you advise—should I own up to all that my name involves, or could I pretend to be the steward Lady Bellingham apparently assumes me to be?”
“Pretense tends to have a way of being found out.”
He sighed. “And I suppose neither the general nor my niece will be likely to keep such a thing a secret.” He drove the gig around the circular drive and pulled up outside the weathered stone of a gracious two-storied house.
After he helped her down, she looked at him thoughtfully. “If you truly are desperate to remain incognito, perhaps you could see if they could be persuaded to keep such matters secret. It is not as though you are to be here for any great time, is it?”
“I intended to return to London as soon as possible, but matters here suggest it may need be longer.”
“The longer you remain, the more likely your secret will be revealed.”
He inclined his head, as an officious looking personage drew open the front doors.
“Miss Stapleton, you are back.”
“Hello, Mr. Siddons.” She turned to him, her smile holding mischief. “This is Mister …?”
“Daniel,” he supplied.
She nodded, lips curled to one side, and they entered inside a dim hall.
The butler eyed Daniel askance, then opened another door.
Following Miss Stapleton’s lead, Daniel passed into a well-proportioned room lined with windows and shelves of books. Three sofas were positioned in front of a roaring fireplace, which made the room feel insufferably warm. A cat eyed him, then turned its black back, as Miss Stapleton guided him to where an elderly man with an alarming beard squinted up at her, then at him.
“Well?”
“Grandfather, may I present Mister, er, Daniel.”
“Who?”
Daniel stepped forward and bowed. “Good afternoon, sir. My name is Captain Daniel Balfour. I am the uncle of Miss Rebecca Mannering.”
“Oho, so you’ve come at last! Well, it’s about time.”
“Indeed, it is,” Daniel agreed. “I have come to extend my apologies for my delay and offer my appreciation for your care for my niece in these past weeks.”
“Past weeks? Past months, more like it.”
Daniel shot a look at Miss Stapleton, but she was watching her grandfather, as if worried at his response. Was she worried for Daniel? “Such tardiness is unfortunate, I know. But I have been unable to come before now,” Daniel explained.
“Captain Balfour has been in Spain, Grandfather.”
“Eh? What’s that? Spain, you say? What fool thing have you been doing there, lad?”
Miss Stapleton’s mobile lips tweaked as if smothering a smile. “He is a captain in His Majesty’s Army, sir.”
“What?”
“Remember? You have been speaking of his exploits these past few months.”
Daniel swallowed amusement. The older man reminded him of his own father, a man whose denial of ever-diminishing hearing and ever-progressing memory loss had been matched by his increasingly brusque reckonings with his family members.
A sound denoted the door opening, and Daniel glanced behind him to see a faded woman of middling years enter, followed by a short, fair-haired lass possessing a heart-shaped face.
“Uncle!”
He bit back a smile at her look of shock, glad that he had owned the truth of his name. “Hello, Rebecca.” He stepped toward her, then paused. Was he supposed to embrace her? Was affection something she expected, or needed? He shot Miss Stapleton a quick look.
