The Leopard Prince (Princes #2)(9)

He clenched his fist on the window frame. Did she even care what his dismissal would mean to this land?

Behind him, the door opened. “Mr. Pye, I think you must be one of those odious early risers.”

He relaxed his fingers and turned around.

Lady Georgina strolled toward him in a dress a shade deeper than her blue eyes. “When I sent for you at nine this morning, Greaves looked at me like I was noddycock and informed me you would have left your cottage hours ago.”

Harry bowed. “I’m sorry to have inconvenienced you, my lady.”

“As well you should be.” Lady Georgina sat on a black and green settee, leaning back casually, her blue skirts spread around her. “Greaves has a knack of making one feel like a babbling infant in leading strings.” She shuddered. “I can’t think how horrible it must be working as a footman under him. Aren’t you going to sit?”

“If you wish, my lady.” He chose an armchair. What was she about?

“I do wish.” Behind her, the door opened again, and two maids entered bearing laden trays. “Not only that, but I’m afraid I’m going to insist upon you taking tea as well.”

The maids arranged the teapot, cups, plates, and all the other confusing stuff of an aristocratic tea on a low table between them and left.

Lady Georgina lifted the silver teapot and poured. “Now, you will have to bear with me and try not to glower so menacingly.” She waved aside his attempted apology. “Do you take sugar and cream?”

He nodded.

“Good. Plenty of both, then, for I’m sure you have a secret sweet tooth. And two slices of shortbread. You’ll just have to shoulder it like a soldier.” She offered the plate to him.

He met her eyes, oddly challenging. He hesitated a moment before taking the plate. For a fraction of a second, his fingers brushed hers, so soft and warm, and then he sat back. The shortbread was tender and flaky. He ate the first piece in two bites.

“There.” She sighed and sank into the cushions with her own plate. “Now I know how Hannibal felt after having conquered the Alps.”

He felt his mouth twitch as he watched her over the rim of his cup. The Alps would have sat up and begged had Lady Georgina marched toward them with an army of elephants. Her ginger hair was a halo around her face. She might’ve looked angelic if her eyes hadn’t been so mischievous. She bit into a slice of shortbread, and it fell apart. She picked up a crumb from her plate and sucked it off her finger in a very unladylike way.

His balls tightened. No. Not for this woman.

He set down his teacup carefully. “Why did you wish to speak to me, my lady?”

“Well, this is rather awkward.” She put her own cup down. “I’m afraid people have been telling tales about you.” She held up one hand and began ticking off her fingers. “One of the footmen, the bootblack boy, four—no five—of the maids, my sister, Tiggle, and even Greaves. Would you believe it? I was a bit surprised. I never thought he’d unbend enough to gossip.” She looked at him.

Harry looked back impassively.

“And everyone since only yesterday afternoon when we arrived.” She’d run out of fingers and let her hand drop.

Harry said nothing. He felt a twisting in his chest, but that was bootless. Why should she be any different from everyone else?

“They all seem to be under the impression that you’ve been poisoning the neighbor’s sheep with some kind of weed. Although”—her brow puckered—“why everyone should fly up into the boughs about sheep, even murdered sheep, I’m not quite sure.”

Harry stared. Surely she jested? But then again, she was from the city. “Sheep are the backbone of this country, my lady.”

“I know the farmers all raise them hereabouts.” She peered at the cake tray, hand hovering above it, apparently choosing a sweet. “I’m sure people become quite fond of their livestock—”

“They aren’t pets.”

She looked up at his sharp tone, and her eyebrows drew together.

He was impertinent, he knew, but damn it, she needed to know. “They’re life. Sheep are a man’s meat and his clothes. The income to pay the landowner his due. The thing that keeps his family alive.”

She stilled, her blue eyes solemn. He felt something light and frail connect himself and this woman, who was so far above his station. “The loss of an animal might mean no new dress for a man’s wife. Maybe a shortage of sugar in the pantry. A couple of dead sheep could keep his children from winter shoes. For a farmer living lean”—he shrugged—“he might not make the rent, might have to kill the rest of his herd to feed his family.”

Her eyes widened.

“That way lies ruin.” Harry gripped the settee arm, trying to explain, trying to make her understand. “That way lies the poorhouse.”

“Ah. So the thing is more serious than I knew.” She sat back with a sigh. “It would appear I must act.” She looked at him, it seemed, regretfully.

Here it was, finally. He braced himself.

The front doors slammed.

Lady Georgina cocked her head. “What…?”

Something crashed in the hall, and Harry leaped to his feet. Arguing voices and a scuffle were coming nearer. He placed himself between the door and Lady Georgina. His left hand drifted down to the top of his boot.