Страница 67 из 68
The third draft had nearly admitted that she’d wanted to hate everything about this journey, and yet, in his hospitality, and in his failure to measure down to Ha
Rather than admit that in writing—even to Gran—that draft had followed its predecessors into the waste bin. What Ha
Leaving Ha
Her mission was, in fact, the very opposite.
Ha
But how to post it?
Were she in Boston, she’d know such a simple thing as how to post a letter, where to fetch more tincture of opium for her aunt, what money was needful for which purchases.
“Excuse me.” The earl paused in the open doorway, then walked into the room. He had a sauntering quality to his gait, as if his hips were loose joints, his spine supple like a cat’s, and his time entirely his own. Even his walk lacked the military bearing of the Englishmen Ha
Which was both subtly u
“I’m finished with your desk, sir.” My lord was probably the preferred form of address—though perhaps not preferred by him. “I’ve a letter to post to my grandmother, if you’ll tell me how to accomplish such a thing?”
“You have to give me permission to sit.” He did not smile, but something in his eyes suggested he was amused.
“You’re not a child to need an adult’s permission.” Though even as a boy, those green eyes of his would have been arresting.
“I’m a gentleman and you’re a lady, so I do need your permission.” He gestured to a chair on the other side of a desk. “May I?”
“Of course.”
“How are you faring here?”
He crossed an ankle over his knee and sat back, his big body filling the chair with long limbs and excellent tailoring.
“Your household has done a great deal to make us comfortable and welcome, for which you have my thanks.” His maids in particular had Ha
“Is there anything you need?” His gaze no longer reflected amusement. The question was polite, but the man was studying her, and Ha
“I need to post my letter. When do we depart for London?”
He picked up an old-fashioned quill pen, making his big hands look curiously elegant, as if he might render art with them, or music, or delicate surgeries.
“Give me your letter, Miss Ha
She left off studying his hands, hands which sported neither a wedding ring nor a signet ring. What exactly was he asking?
“I am appreciative of your generosity, but I was not asking you to mail my letter for me. I was asking how one goes about mailing a letter, any letter, bound for Boston.” Ha
He laughed, a low warm sound that crinkled his eyes and had him uncrossing his leg to sit forward.
“Put up your guns, Boston. I know what it is to be a stranger in a strange land. I’ll walk you to the nearest posting i
“Your ships?” Plural. Ha
“When one is in trade with the New World, one should be in control of the means of distribution as well as the products, though you aren’t to mention to a soul that you know I’ve mercantile interests. Shall we find that posting i
“I can stand without assistance,” she said, getting to her feet. “But thank you, some fresh air would be appreciated.”
They’d had a dusting of snow the night before, though the sun had come out and the eaves were dripping. Just like in Boston, the new snow and the sunshine created a winter brightness more piercing than the summer sun.
“We should tell your aunt we’re leaving the premises.”
This was perhaps another rule, or his idea of what ma
His earlship peered down at her—he was even taller up close—but Ha
“We’ll leave a note, then. Fetch your cape and bo
How easily he gave orders. Too easily, but Ha
“Perhaps you’ll want to wear your bo
The bo
“I don’t know. Why would you?”
Propriety alone required a bo
“A gentleman would not comment on this,” her escort said as he tucked her hand over his arm, “but I notice you limp.”
That arm was not a mere courtesy, as it might have been from Ha
“A blind man could tell I limped from the cadence of my steps. You needn’t apologize.” The only people in Boston solicitous of Ha
Silence stretched, while they meandered along walks shoveled clean of snow. Ha
“Does it pain you?” This handsome, wealthy man was to be Ha