Regency Mistletoe & Marriages: A Countess by Christmas / The Earl's Mistletoe Bride. Joanna MaitlandЧитать онлайн книгу.
those less fortunate than themselves. It sickened him when he saw highly bred females hold scented handkerchiefs to their noses as they turned their faces away from beggars. And what kind of man would let a fainting lady drop to the stone flags rather than risk creasing the fabric of his coat?
‘You were struggling with her dead weight,’ he pointed out. ‘And Peters was just standing there gaping. Somebody had to do something.’ And from the way she had railed at him on the subject of rank and need he had thought she felt the same. ‘As you so forcefully pointed out,’ he reminded her.
His eyes had gone so cold and hard it made her want to shiver. She quailed at the reminder of exactly what she had said to him on that occasion. He was clearly still very annoyed with her for being so impertinent.
‘Yes, I know I was terribly rude to you, but I thought…’
‘That I was merely a servant, and so could be spoken to as though I were of no account. Yes.’ He pursed his lips. ‘It was a most edifying experience.’
Now she knew he was an earl she would modify her views, no doubt, as well as her manners!
‘It was not like that!’ Helen objected. ‘If you do not wish to be taken for a servant you should tell people who you are! And not loiter around the backstairs the way you do!’
She could have kicked herself. She had sworn she would not antagonise him, and what was she doing? Answering him in a manner that was exceptionally impertinent.
And yet now his scowl had vanished. He leaned back in his chair, eyeing her with frank surprise.
‘Do you have no control over your temper, Miss Forrest?’
It was intriguing. She knew who he was. He was certain she had some hidden agenda where he was concerned. And yet she could only play at being obsequious so long before something inside her rebelled.
‘Very little,’ she admitted guiltily. ‘I always mean to say what is proper. But usually I just end up telling the truth instead.’
She clapped her hands over her mouth, appalled at having just given him such a clear demonstration of her lack of restraint.
But, far from looking offended, he began to smile. Until now she had only seen a hint of amusement putting a glint into those eyes which were normally so stony, so cold. It was a surprise to see how very different that smile made him look.
Oh, if he were just a footman, and he turned that smile on any of the maids, they would swoon at his feet!
‘Let me assure you, Miss Forrest, that when the host of a gathering such as this appears on the doorstep to welcome his guests he generally assumes that they know exactly who he is.’
‘Oh, well, y…yes,’ she conceded. ‘I suppose they would…’
‘And as for loitering, as you put it, on the backstairs, I do no such thing. I never use the main staircase because—’ He pulled himself up short, astounded by the fact that she had almost made him speak of a matter he never talked about with anyone. Not that most people needed to ask why he avoided setting foot on that staircase.
‘I was simply taking the quickest route down to this room when I chanced upon you and ran foul of your temper,’ he said irritably.
‘Oh!’ She sat up straight, feeling as though he had slapped her. All the melting feelings his smile had engendered vanished at once. ‘Well, I think I had a right to be angry! My aunt had been treated abominably! And then, to add insult to injury, you accused me of setting the servants’ hall in a bustle…’
He held up his hand. ‘Unjust of me under the circumstances, I suppose.’ Unjust to tease her, too. Had he not realised last night that this kind of behaviour was not that of a gentleman?
It was time to stop this—whatever it was that afflicted him whenever he came into Miss Forrest’s orbit—and remember why he had wanted to speak with her privately.
‘I had not all the facts at my disposal. I did not know that you were not a servant—’
‘You see?’ she could not refrain from pointing out triumphantly. ‘It is an easy enough mistake to make…’
His lips twitched. Was it so surprising he could not remember who he was when she was around, when she clearly could not either? She was still talking to him as though she had the right to take him to task. As though they were equals.
‘Touché. Let us cry quits over that issue. Agreed?’
‘Oh, absolutely!’ She beamed at him. Really, thought Helen, he was being far less difficult to deal with than she had imagined he would be. He could be fair. She only hoped he would be as fair in his eventual treatment of her aunt.
Lord, but that smile packed quite a punch. Miss Forrest was not merely pretty, as he had first thought. She was dazzling.
And women who could dazzle a man, make him forget who he was, the very principles by which he lived his life, were dangerous. As he knew to his cost.
He pulled a sheet of paper across the desk and frowned down at it.
‘As for the question of your aunt’s accommodations,’ he said coldly, ‘it appears quite a string of errors have been made. About you both. I wondered at the time I took her up there exactly why my cousin’s aunt had been put in a room that should more correctly have been allotted to a visiting upper servant. And upon making enquiries I discovered it had not.’
‘Not?’ Helen felt puzzled. One moment he had been smiling and approachable. The next it was as though he had pulled up the drawbridge and retreated into his fortress. Shutting her out.
‘Ah, no. The room to which I took her is yours, Miss Forrest. And before you remind me yet again that you are not a servant, let me explain that until your arrival it was believed you were accompanying my aunt in the role of paid companion. I have checked the correspondence by means of which she informed Mrs Dent she was bringing along a young lady. She referred to you as her companion and, having read it myself, I am not the least surprised it created such confusion. We had no idea you are, in fact, a young relative of hers.’
Helen cast her mind back to the day her aunt had written that letter. Her nerves had been in shreds. When she had lost all her money certain people had begun to cut her in the street. And then their landlord, who had sometimes come in to take tea with them, had stood on the doorstep, coldly demanding cash and threatening her with eviction. She had known she could not apply to either of her brothers for aid. And then the annual invitation to Alvanley Hall had arrived, reminding her that there was still the head of the family, who might—just might—be able to solve her difficulties. Aunt Bella’s hand had been shaking as she had penned her acceptance letter. It was hardly surprising that she had not made Helen’s station clear.
When she nodded, he went on, ‘I shall have her moved to the room she should have been occupying today. You will be relieved to hear,’ he said dryly, ‘that it is not up so many flights of stairs.’
She felt her cheeks colouring, but lifted her chin and said, ‘Thank you.’
He regarded her wryly. ‘I can see that hurt. And it may hurt you even more when you are obliged to retract your accusation that my staff ignored the needs of an ailing untitled lady to see to a woman of rank. The simple fact of the matter is that the bell-pull in that room does not work.’
Helen wanted to curl up somewhere and hide. She had briefly suspected something of the sort. But then she had lost her temper and gone storming down to the kitchens, flinging accusations in all directions. She could not have made more of a fool of herself if…if…No, that was it. She could not have made more of a fool of herself!
‘I did wonder about that,’ she admitted. ‘But then I got so cross that I assumed the worst. I am sorry.’
The Earl cleared his throat, and for a moment he looked as uncomfortable as she felt. ‘The only reason nobody came to see to her was that nobody knew she was there. For