The Swordmaster's Mistress: Dangerous Deceptions Book Two(15)
He stalked forward as her polite greetings faltered, opened the door and followed Lady Northam and her maid out without any acknowledgment of the other women. When he took his seat opposite her he realised her cheeks were flushed pink and her chin was up.
‘I hope you are not sensitive to gossip, Mr Hunt.’
He had intended to deal with it by ignoring the encounter. She, it seemed, preferred to take bulls by horns. ‘An escort for a lady in broad daylight when she is with her maid is surely not something to remark upon?’
Lady Northam twisted on the seat, the rustle of her skirts brushing against his knees, the subtle hint of her perfume reaching him more strongly. Jared set his hat firmly on his lap and met her exasperated gaze with a bland look in return.
‘Mr Hunt, I do not know if you ever spend much time looking in a mirror, but you must be aware that you cut a striking figure – all in black, a rapier at your hip, your hair not in the common mode. I assume your style is a matter of deliberate choice.’
‘I make my living by teaching other men to fight with deadly and elegant accuracy and when I am escorting someone, as I am now, I expect to intimidate anyone who might think of offering my client insult. If I am to sell my services I must look the part and if I am to deter attackers I will not do it with the appearance of an idle man about town.’
‘I suspect that Lady Mitcham, Mrs Rushworth and their daughters did not see a fencing tutor or a bodyguard in there. I suspect they saw a handsome man escorting a lady who is married to a man old enough to be her grandfather,’ Lady Northam said ruefully. Faith let a startled sound that might have been laughter escape her, then bit her lip and studied her clasped hands.
Jared digested the handsome. The Duchess of Calderbrook, much as she might like him now, had described him as sinister and dangerous-looking. Other women treated him warily, in bed and out, apparently fully prepared to accept the outer image as a portrait of the inner man. Lady Northam appeared to see through the clothes and the hair and the rapier as so much masquerade costume. She also appeared to find him good-looking. Jared’s right eyebrow, one of the tells he usually kept rigorously under control, escaped him, arched up.
Lady Northam blushed. ‘I mean…’
‘That many people have dirty minds and a liking for gossip?’ he suggested.
‘Exactly,’ she agreed with a rueful smile. ‘And my husband and I will be attending Lady Fulborne’s ball this evening and I know Augustus would feel happier if you were to accompany us.’
‘That will either flatten the gossips or make things worse depending on just how dirty those minds are.’ This enterprise was developing angles he had not predicted.
‘I do not understand, Mr Hunt. Why should it make things worse?’
Jared Hunt glanced out of the window. Guin followed his gaze and saw they were almost at the turn into Clarges Street, opposite the reservoir gate into Green Park. ‘Will you walk a little, Lady Northam? I would like to talk.’ He pulled the check-string as she nodded and the carriage came to a halt amidst the usual shouts of protest from following vehicles which, after a moment of confusion, began to flow round them again.
‘But we are almost home,’ she said. Even so, when he helped her down she made no more protest, nor when he waved-on the coach with the assurance he would bring her ladyship home directly she’d had a little air. Nor did Guin contradict him when he told Faith to walk a little behind them as he had confidential matters to discuss.
‘What do you have to say to me that cannot be said in my own home?’ she asked as they strolled along the northern edge of the reservoir towards the Wilderness, avoiding excited small children in the care of their nursemaids who were endeavouring to prevent them falling into the water as they threw crusts to the ducks. ‘I assume it was of importance for you to order me so peremptorily from my own carriage.’
‘I hope I was not exactly ordering and thank you for responding without protest. I thought this might be embarrassing in front of your maid and even more so in your house where your husband or the servants might overhear.’
‘What on earth are you talking about, Mr Hunt?’ She stopped dead, stared up into his face, then, with a little shake of her head walked on.
‘It occurs to me, as it did not when I accepted this assignment without knowing you at all, that the ill-natured might draw an unfortunate inference from my apparent… closeness to you. My constant attendance. That encounter just now in the dress shop is a mild example of it.’
‘Surely not when my husband is seen to escort me to social events in your company?’
He was silent, as though he was working out how to phrase something. ‘Lord Northam would not be the first elderly husband to take extreme action to ensure that his young wife bore him an heir.’
‘What? What?’ Guin wrenched her hand free of his arm and stopped dead in the middle of the path. ‘You are saying that my husband is employing you for stud purposes?’ Her voice was rising dangerously and she put her hand to her lips before she shrieked something even more damning for public consumption.
‘No.’ Jared Hunt also seemed to be making an effort to keep his voice down. ‘Certainly not. Of course he is not. I am saying that some people might assume that to be the case, especially if we are seen too obviously together and making up a threesome with your husband.’