And the Miss Ran Away With the Rake(99)

“Shame?”

“Utter ruin,” she corrected. “Then there will be a family conclave and I will be married off to the first Dale they can find to take me in my tarnished state.”

“Tarnished?” He looked her up and down as if searching for a blemish.

She gave him a withering glance.

To which he smiled. “Never tarnished, Miss Dale. Not to me. To me, you shine brightly.”

“Harrumph!” And this time she managed to regain the possession of her valise, marching onward toward a fate of her own making. Though she knew the necessity of making a good show of it.

“Go away!” she told him, like one might a stray dog.

“No.”

“No?”

“No,” he repeated. “As a gentleman—”

“A gentleman! Bah!”

“A man of honor?”

“Piffle!”

He came around in front of her, once again blocking her escape. “What about a fellow in good standing—”

“Please, Lord Henry,” she begged, pointing down the road in the direction from which they’d come, “go back to Owle Park, where you belong. To your life. Leave me to mine. Please.”

“No,” he repeated stubbornly. “Not until I know you’re safe.” He paused for a moment, and when she glared at him, he continued, “I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if something untoward happened to you. And there it is. You might not think me a gentleman or a man of honor, but I won’t let anything or anyone harm you.”

She nodded in acquiescence.

They continued walking on, and as they entered the village, Daphne spoke up again. “Aren’t you needed elsewhere?”

Henry considered her question for a moment and then shook his head. “No. Not that I can think of.”

One of the shopkeepers who was opening his business for the day doffed his hat to them, and Henry nodded politely back. “I’d rather spend these last few minutes with you. That, and I would be remiss if I didn’t stay and ensure this gentleman’s intentions toward you are honorable.”

Daphne stumbled and stopped. “You are going to discern that?”

“You needn’t sound so incredulous,” he replied as he kept walking. “It takes a rake to know one,” he called back over his shoulder. “I’d be doing you a favor. I owe you that much, Miss Dale.”

Daphne hurried to catch up. “I would prefer you leave well enough alone.”

He slanted a glance at her. “I suppose you are going to insist.”

“I am.”

He sighed again. “But I could ensure—”

“Not one word, Lord Henry!”

“Oh, good heavens, Miss Dale, you are a trying creature. But if I must remain silent—”

“You must,” she insisted. “You will not say a word to the gentleman who is awaiting me at the inn.”

He crossed his arms over his chest. “If that is your heart’s desire, Miss Dale, I will promise with all my heart not to say a word to the gentleman waiting for you.”

“Swear?” she pressed.

“Upon my honor,” he told her.

Satisfied, she continued on, her eyes fixed on the inn at the end of the row of shops and houses.

Out in front sat a shabby-looking carriage.

“How odd,” Lord Henry remarked.

“Odd?”

“I thought this most excellent gentleman of yours would have some elegant barouche to carry you off in style and comfort.”

Tucking her chin up, she told him, “Thankfully, he is not the sort to be overly extravagant—he disdains such showy pretensions. Some might call him thrifty and sensible. Qualities I quite admire.”

As they got closer to the carriage, it was obvious it was a tumbledown affair.

Lord Henry let out a low whistle. “As long as he doesn’t do the same thing to your dress accounts.”

She shot him a furious glance.

“I must ask,” Lord Henry continued, “however did you fall in love with this man? Because a lady would have to be in love to dare a journey in that rattletrap.”

“I did, and I will, because he has been nothing but honest and forthright with me.” Was it Daphne’s imagination, or did Lord Henry flinch?

When she started for the inn’s door, he called after her, “Well, good, you’ve gotten that off your chest.”