The Princess and the Peer (6 page)

Fresh anger coursed through her at the reminder. She really did not want to go to the embassy or be compelled to
return to the estate. She’d barely had any fun at all yet. He’d said her situation wasn’t fair and that was the least fair part of all.

“You are in a difficult fix indeed,” he mused aloud. “Well, there seems nothing else for it. You must stay here with me.”

N
ick watched as Emma’s lips parted, her velvety blue eyes widening with surprise.

He supposed his decision to have her take up residence with him—temporarily, of course—was insane by the usual standards, but then he’d never done the usual thing in his life. She said herself she had no money, no family and nowhere to go. Under the circumstances, someone had to step forward and help her.

His mother had always said he had an overly protective streak in him, whether it was mending the wing of a wounded bird when he’d been a boy, providing employment to a former crewman, or rescuing a wayward girl he’d only just met on the street.

If he were anyone else, he would drive her to a hotel, give her a few pounds, and turn his back, never to see her again. But in spite of the fact that he’d known her less than two hours, he already felt a connection to her.

Even if he hadn’t felt anything, he couldn’t simply abandon her to her fate. She was far too pretty and much too naive to be allowed to wander around on her own. Who knew what kind of unscrupulous blackguards she might encounter in a public hotel? With no one to protect her, she would be easy prey; a tasty morsel any healthy male would find hard to resist.

And what about him?

Well, he wouldn’t mind having her around for a few days, just long enough for her teacher friend to return from the country. Then he could send her on her way, his conscience clear.

Until then, she might be exactly the diversion he needed. She was certainly far more entertaining than sitting in his office reading letters from his steward about the pond that was being dredged at Lynd Park, the estate Peter had left him in Lancashire. A week with a pretty little houseguest sounded quite appealing.

As for her reputation, she was a governess, a woman who by virtue of her employment was considered neither a proper lady nor a servant; instead, she dwelled somewhere in the nebulous gray area between. Personally, he didn’t give a hang about any talk her stay might elicit, but he supposed she might. Which was why he’d already sent a note to his aunt. He supposed he could ask Aunt Felicity to let Emma stay with her, but he was ninety-nine percent certain of her answer.

“Have a girl with whom I am not acquainted live in my house? Do not be absurd, Dominic. You know how I loathe having people stay in my home. The town house is far too small for guests. We’d be quite in each other’s way. And you know I cannot be put to the expense of feeding anyone but myself and the servants.”

Aunt Felicity, a widow of many years, was forever complaining about the miserly jointure left to her by her late husband. “It barely keeps me in candles, let alone proper firewood for the grates.”

Of course, she never seemed to count the gifts of food and fuel and sundries that Peter, and now he himself, sent around to her town house on a regular basis. And while she would likely refuse to entertain guests at her own house, he strongly suspected she would be pleased to take up residence at Lyndhurst House for a few days. In fact, he was sure she would relish a chance to set up court in one of the largest guest bedchambers
and pass the week plaguing his servants with demands.

Nick met Emma’s gaze again, watching the changing expressions on her face as she mulled over his suggestion.

“Stay with you?” she repeated with skeptical amazement. “That is out of the question, my lord.”

“I fail to see why,” he stated in a bluff voice. “You need a place to stay for a few days, and I have a house with more than ample room.”

Carefully, Emma set her teacup aside and tried to decide how best to answer. “Well, yes, I can see that your home is most comfortably appointed”—
for a house that isn’t a castle,
she added to herself—“but the size of your establishment is hardly the issue.”

“Then what is? If it’s appearances you’re concerned about,” he went on before she could elaborate, “you need not be. I told you, I’ve sent a note round to my aunt. I am sure if I ask her, she’ll be only too happy to lend you her countenance.”

“Oh, your aunt, you say? Still, it simply isn’t possible.”

Yet even as the words left her mouth, she found herself wondering why it wasn’t. He was a stranger, true, but so far he’d been nothing but generous and kind, aiding her when others might have either turned their backs or taken advantage. She supposed it was foolhardy to trust a man she barely knew and yet, crazy as it might seem, she sensed she could. But to live in his house, even with his aunt there to act as chaperone? The notion was as shocking and dangerous as it was absurd.

Yet the more she considered the idea, the more she found herself warming to it. Staying here with him—and his aunt, she reminded herself—meant she could remain in London. And if she were in London, then surely she would be able to explore the city exactly as she’d planned.

Not only that, but she would be doing so with complete anonymity. No one, not the duchess or the ambassador or even her brother, would have any way of knowing she was
staying with Lord Lyndhurst. As for being seen around Town, well, she wasn’t acquainted with anyone in London, and no one searching for her would ever expect to find her living as a penniless, unemployed governess in the town house of a newly made earl.

Truly, the idea could not be more perfect, she thought. If she accepted his offer, she would be able to enjoy her week’s freedom and do all the things she was dying to do and see. And best of all, she would have a strong, capable escort at her side to accompany her on her adventures. For even she was no longer foolish enough to think she could go exploring on her own, not after what had happened that morning at the market.

In order for her plan to succeed though, she would have to accept his offer of help. But how could she, yet not appear forward by agreeing to his rather scandalous suggestion?

She lowered her gaze. “I appreciate your generous offer, my lord, but I would not wish to impose.”

“Perhaps not,” he remarked with a slight gruffness in his voice, “but I don’t see that you have much choice in the matter. Where else are you to go?”

Her eyes flew up to meet his, her brows knitting.

“My apologies if I seem unduly blunt,” he said, “but this is no time for missishness.”

Missishness?
She was not missish!

“I am simply stating facts.” He drank the last of his tea before setting the cup aside. “And the facts are that you are without funds or lodgings at present and your friend isn’t expected back in the city for a week at least. I could put you up in a hotel, but that seems as bad an idea as you being on your own in Covent Gardens. We both saw firsthand how well that worked out this morning.”

“That,” she declared, “is extremely ungallant of you to mention. I can hardly be blamed for the actions of those thieves.”

He shrugged. “Ungallant or not, you have no business being out in the city alone. So let’s have no more debate on the matter. You need help and I am offering to provide it. Just for
this week, of course,” he added, “until your friend returns from her journey.”

As if I would care to remain longer,
she silently retorted.

Suddenly she wasn’t sure that she wanted his help at all, even if it meant having to leave London. And to think she’d been looking forward to exploring the city with him. Perhaps she ought to refuse his offer and go to the embassy after all. Only imagine how surprised he would be if she tossed his
generosity
back in his face.

But the very idea of being sent back to the estate stopped her cold. Even pride wasn’t enough to make her say the words that would set him back on his heels and end her acquaintance with him forever. She really did want to see the city in her own way and on her own terms, not from the inside of a royal coach. But was a smattering of such freedom worth residing in this man’s house?
Pshaw.
If only Mrs. Brown-Jones hadn’t been away visiting relations, none of this would be necessary.

“From your silence,” he stated, as if the decision were already made, “I presume you agree to my plan.”

Again, she struggled against the temptation to refuse him. But even as she considered her options one more time, an image of Duchess Weissmuller smiling cruelly at her while she rang a peal over her head convinced her that his suggestion was indeed the wisest course.

“If you are certain you can
bear
my company for a week, then yes, my lord. I accept.”

A faint smile crossed his mouth, his eyes twinkling with an irreverent light. “Oh, I believe I can endure the inconvenience, if you are able, Miss—?” He broke off, tilting his head at a quizzical angle. “I’ve only now realized that I know you simply as Emma. What pray is your surname?”

Whyte,
she thought automatically,
of the imperial and most majestic house of Whyte.
But she wasn’t about to tell him her real last name any more than she planned to tell him she was a princess. Then again, she wondered a moment later, why should she not be honest about her name?

Quite naturally, he would assume her name was “White,” a common enough surname in English. Who would ever associate supposedly plain, ordinary Miss Emma White, unemployed governess and penniless houseguest, with Her Royal Highness, Princess Emmaline Adalia Marie Whyte of Rosewald? So why not tell him the truth? It would be far simpler for her to remember anyway.

“White,” she said. “Miss Emma White.”

He reached out and took her hand, raising it so his lips just barely brushed the top. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss White.”

A shiver tingled over her skin, her earlier irritation with him melting away. For a moment she lost herself in the beautiful smoky gray of his eyes. His hand tightened fractionally around hers before he released her.

Strangely disoriented, she withdrew her hand to her lap and looked away.

A short silence fell between them.

“Well, seeing that you are to stay the week,” he said, “why do we not get you properly settled? My housekeeper will find you a suitable bedchamber. After the morning you have had, I expect you would like to rest and refresh yourself.”

Actually, now that he mentioned it, she could do with some time alone and a place to wash and relax and slip her stocking feet out of her stiff leather half boots.

“But what of your aunt?” she questioned. “Should I not remain here in order to make her acquaintance?”

“Oh, you’ll make her acquaintance. Never fear,” he said. “As for waiting, there’s no telling when she’ll arrive. It could be ten minutes; it could be two hours. Aunt Felicity is unpredictable at best, and I learned long ago not to bother making the attempt to foretell her actions.”

Emma sent him a troubled look. “If that is true, are you certain she will agree to aid me and take up residence here for the week?”

“I’m sure. Just leave it to me,” he said with an unconcerned shrug. “Although,” he added contemplatively, “it
might be best if I discuss the plan with her first. The two of you can meet this evening at dinner.”

“Oh, but surely we should meet before then?”

“No,” he stated firmly. “This evening will be soon enough. Trust me.”

Trust him,
she thought. She had already trusted him far too often today. Was she being foolish to put so much faith in a man she barely knew? Once again her instincts told her that she had nothing to fear in his company, and that he would keep her safe.

“Very well, my lord. As you wish.”

He grinned, his white teeth flashing in a way that sent her pulse thundering unsteadily again. She forced herself not to show any sign of the emotions careening inside her. Instead she simply watched as he rose and crossed to ring the bell.

“Right this way, miss,” an upstairs housemaid told Emma a few minutes later. “If you’ll follow me, I’ll show you to your room.”

Casting a last glance toward Nick where he stood near one of the drawing room windows, sunlight coaxing forth tempting hints of red in his dark sable hair, she turned to follow the servant from the drawing room. It seemed her week of adventure was truly about to begin.

Her bedchamber, when she reached it, proved charmingly attractive, if a bit old-fashioned—the furnishings likely from the same era as the drawing room, and once more chosen by Nick’s late mother. Still, Emma couldn’t fault the other woman’s taste, approving of the cheerful yellow draperies, wide walnut tester bed, and wallpaper covered with tiny bluebirds soaring in midflight.

Having spent the past six years of her life attending school in a medieval Scottish castle that was dark and drafty in the autumn and freezing cold come winter, she was delighted with the warm, eminently comfortable accommodations. A wood fire crackled in the hearth, the chamber neat and clean with the scents of linen starch, lemon polish, and beeswax
drifting on the air. Once Nick’s housekeeper had learned that her master would be entertaining guests, she must have ordered the room made up and thoroughly freshened. His servants might conduct themselves in far more casual a manner than she was accustomed, but they were clearly proficient in their duties.

And happy, Emma mused, as she caught the kindly smile of the maidservant as the girl crossed to pour fresh water into the washbasin and lay out a set of plump white towels.

I shall be happy here too,
she thought.
A week of refuge and exploration that is all mine to enjoy.

“Bell done brung up yer case a while ago, miss, and I took the liberty of unpacking yer dresses and hanging them in the wardrobe,” the servant said helpfully. “If there’s anything ye’d like pressed for this evening, ye’ve only to say.”

So the outspoken footman with the eye patch had been given instructions to carry her valise upstairs to this bedchamber, had he? Of all the high-handed arrogance, she thought, certain the order had been issued directly by Lord Lyndhurst.