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“Nor should I accept rides from a young man when I’m unchaperoned.”
“Yes, but I’m a gentleman and quite safe. I would never let any harm befall you.”
“You are very kind,” she said. “I’m sure you will make some young lady a wonderful husband one day.”
“Oh, Miss Stapleton, I am so glad to finally hear you say so.” He quickly climbed down, moving nearer when she really thought he’d be better off to hold the reins. “It has been my dearest dream for so long—”
Her insides tensed. What might be overheard?
There was only one way to make him stop.
“But that young lady is not me.” She stepped back. “Alas, one and thirty is not so young after all.”
“The difference in our ages means nothing to me.” He shifted in a manner so she was horribly suspicioned that he was about to move to one knee.
“Unfortunately, the disparity means quite a lot to me. Now, please excuse—”
“I do not even mind your cheek!” he added, somewhat desperately.
She stilled, heat surging, begging utterance. How dare he speak so impertinently? She blinked back stupid tears, drew in a breath, tamped down the offense. “You must forgive me, but I have an interview I must attend.”
“Are you sure you cannot think of me more kindly than that?”
“I’m sorry, Frederick. You are like the younger brother I never had, and thus I feel you will ever remain to me.”
His mouth a tight, flat line, he jerked a nod and climbed back into the gig. Then took an age to turn around on the narrow road.
She wavered between pretending not to notice his troubles and offering to help. But an offer to assist might be construed as interest she did not possess or be regarded as yet further wound to his pride.
“I will not give up, Miss Stapleton,” he called, before driving disconsolately away.
“Alas,” she muttered.
“Alas,” came a voice behind her, drawing her attention to the captain, holding the reins of his horse behind him.
“He is but a child.”
“A child capable of great rudeness.”
She glanced away, pressing her lips together. He sounded almost angry on her behalf. That thought renewed heat to the back of her eyes, but for a very different reason.
“He seems a spoilt child, whereas you are one and thirty.” He eyed her. “I would never have picked that. You hold your age very well, Miss Stapleton.”
“I’ve such an advanced age, after all,” she said, glad her voice worked as normal.
“Not nearly as advanced as six and thirty.”
“That is true. Six and thirty must be considered very ancient indeed.”
He laughed. “You are a minx.”
She finally smiled. “Was there something you wished to tell me? Apart from mocking my poor and only suitor?”
“Only? I cannot understand why someone like you might be unsought at your age.”
“Hardly unsought, as you just witnessed.”
“But unwed. The men here must be blind.”
