As she turned away, the gentleman’s lips twitched. “Incivility? I was not the one listening at doors.”
Indignantly, she swung back on him. “No, you were the one speaking loudly enough to be heard as far as the taproom!”
“You exaggerate as well.”
“As well as what?” she demanded dangerously.
“As well as hectoring me and demanding my bedchamber.”
“Sir, be assured your bedchamber is entirely safe from my marauding. I would as soon sleep in the cellar as accept anything from you.”
“In that case, I shall bid you goodnight.” He stepped back into the doorway before adding thoughtfully, “If one might spend a good night in the cellar. I suppose it would depend on the quality of the brandy.”
Helen’s eyes narrowed. For the first time, it entered her head that he was deliberately provoking her for his own amusement—a suspicion confirmed when Lily scolded, “Please do stop your teasing, sir. A simple apology would do.”
The gentleman leaned his broad shoulder against the door frame. “We have already established that the lady does not wish an apology.”
“I said expect an apology,” Helen retorted. “Though you may imagine my gratification at being promoted to lady from mere wench.”
“Then I suppose if I were to grant you my bedchamber—along with my absence, I hasten to add before more serious charges can be leveled against me—I might rise from rude person to gentleman in your estimation?”
“Hardly,” Helen snapped, sure now she was being baited. “A true gentleman would have taken pity on any female he could help, not merely one whom he discovers to be a gentlewoman.”
“You have very strict definitions. How then would you define a lady? By her wealth or speech?” His eyes raked her. “By her dress, her baggage, the number of her servants and attendants? Or perhaps how well she civilly solicits assistance from gentlemen?”
Helen’s face flamed. “A man who cannot recognize a lady is no gentleman. There is clearly no hope for you.”
As soon as the words were out, she realized anger had driven her too far. But to her surprise, the stranger only let out a short bark of laughter.
“You are right on that score. Lily, have my man bring down my things, and I shall accept your offer of a bed in the parlor.”
Helen’s mouth dropped open, which he observed with a crooked smile.
“Thank you, sir,” Lily said at once. “I’ll bring your dinner directly, too. Miss, what will you have?”
“Share mine,” the gentleman said abruptly. “It will give everyone time to shift my bags, and frankly, you look ready to collapse.”
She was. But at his mention of the fact, she straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin. “Thank you, but I prefer to eat alone.”
“In my bedchamber?” he taunted. “Think nothing of it. I perceive you are afraid of me and my rough manners.”
“I detect no manners at all!”
A couple of men fell out of the taproom, distracting her, and both her tormentor and Lily drew her inside the parlor and closed the door before she registered what was happening.
“You don’t want to be standing out there in public any longer, Miss,” Lily told her. “They’re all three sheets to the wind if Dad is throwing them out. Look, despite his odd humors, Sir Marcus here is a gentleman. And as soon as you’ve eaten and his bags are brought down here, I’ll take you up to the bedchamber.”
Helen wasn’t sure whether it was inertia or his accusation of being afraid of him, but she dropped her bag and sank into the chair by the fire.
“This is Sir Marcus Dain,” Lily told her, already halfway out the door again. “Sir, Miss Milsom, who is governess at Audley Park.”
Surprisingly, he didn’t say anything for a moment, and when she looked at him, his frowning gaze was on her face. Lily had already left the room.
Helen roused herself to say, “I suppose you are thinking a governess is not a lady.”
“Why would I think anything so nonsensical? I was in fact thinking you are to be congratulated on the quick wit and natural manners of your charges.”
“You know the Overton children?” she blurted.
“I am acquainted with the Duchess of Alvan and Lady Dunstan. And Lady Sydney, of course.”
“Sadly, I can claim no credit for the married daughters,” she admitted. “Although I like them very much, they grew up while Lord and Lady Overton lived abroad. My employment with the family began less than a year ago.”
“And do you tell Lord Overton off in the same manner you do me?” he asked with apparent interest.
“No, for his lordship has shown me nothing but courtesy.”
“If that is so,” he said, sitting astride a wooden dining chair and resting his arms along its back, “how do you come to be alone at a public inn with no reserved bedchamber?”
Helen flushed. “Clearly, there was some misunderstanding.”
Fortunately, perhaps, Lily entered then with a tray of food that made her mouth water and her stomach rumble. And although she meant only to eat a bowl of ham soup, she found herself hungry for the pie and puddings that followed it.
Until she was halfway through the second course, she barely spoke. Neither did Sir Marcus, who addressed himself to his supper with equal concentration. Curiously, the silence was quite peaceful, and Helen realized almost with surprise, that she no longer felt anger or even tension in his company.
“Thank you,” she said with difficulty, “for sharing your supper with me.”
“It is of no moment,” he assured her. “I shall merely send the account to Lord Overton.”
She blinked. “No, you won’t,” she said dryly. “You must think me either gullible or hen-witted.”
A smile flickered across the hard face. “Neither, I assure you. On the contrary, I am amazed at Lady Overton’s perception in engaging so spirited a lady to teach her children. If they are anything like her elder daughters, they would run rings round a governess less…forceful.”
“You make me sound like a harridan. Or an army sergeant major.”
“Merely a lady of character. Though I suppose it is possible to be both.”
“A lady and a sergeant major?”
“A lady and a harridan.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Do you wish me to accept such a charge?”
“Not unless you wish to. I was thinking of several of my aunts.”
She almost laughed, until she saw the totally unexpected twinkle in his eyes encouraging her and immediately straightened her face. She was too uncertain of him to drop her guard.
“Smile if you wish,” he urged. “I shan’t hold it against you.”
“I gather you dislike your aunts, as well,” she observed, returning to her meal.
“As well as whom?” he asked, in deliberate echo of her earlier words to him.
“Me,” she said dryly.
One eyebrow shot up. “But I don’t dislike you in the slightest.”
She couldn’t resist curling her lip. “Now that you’ve decided I am not a wench no better than she should be?”
“That has nothing to do with anything,” he said with a hint of impatience. “Except my own ill-temper and occasional bouts of stupidity.”