She blinked. “Was that an apology?”
He considered, laying down his knife and fork and sitting back in his chair. “More of an explanation, which you can use to beat me at your leisure. But for what it’s worth, I am sorry for my unforgivable rudeness.”
He held her gaze, perhaps to convince her of his sincerity, though he did not seem the kind of man to care much for anyone’s opinion. A jolt of awareness shot through her, for he was an imposing man, a large, physically attractive man… And she had no business dining with him, bandying words with him as though this was some game, some stage play where she was not the Overtons’ governess.
“Thank you,” she managed.
Lily came in to take their plates. “There’s my mother’s famous plum pudding to follow,” she offered.
“Oh, not for me,” Helen said hastily, rising to her feet. “I must retire, for I have an early start tomorrow. Sir, whatever my hasty words—or yours!—I do thank you sincerely for the use of your chamber and for sharing your supper. Good night.”
He had risen with her and inclined his head a little sardonically at her civil words. “My pleasure, Miss Milsom,” he said politely. His lips quirked. “Or at least most of it is.”
This time, she allowed herself to laugh as she escaped.
Chapter Two
Sir Marcus Dain rose at dawn from his uncomfortable couch, roused his valet, and dressed before going in search of breakfast.
“Has Miss Milsom left yet?” he asked, sitting down to a large plate of eggs, ham, and sausages.
“Not yet, sir, we let her sleep in,” confided Mrs. Villin, the innkeeper’s wife.
Marcus hesitated. He owed the unusual governess for cheering him up last night, but the best way to pay such a debt was hardly by showing unseemly interest.
“Does she have far to travel?” he asked at last.
“Just to Steynings, sir, to join Lady Overton.”
“Steynings,” he repeated. The thought did not displease him, which was irritating. “How will she get there?” he asked abruptly.
“Old John’s driving her in his lordship’s coach,” Mrs. Villin replied.
Which would be considerably warmer and more comfortable than traveling in his curricle. Besides, it meant he wouldn’t have to leave his valet behind. So, he merely grunted and finished his breakfast.
Only as he climbed into the curricle and took up the ribbons, did he allow himself to glance up at the window of the bedchamber that should have been his. Just for an instant, he glimpsed a lovely woman in a flowing dressing gown with her hair tumbled loose about her shoulders. He had known she would look like that…
And then, she’d whisked herself away, and he urged his horses on as though he’d seen nothing unusual and had no upsurge of desire to squash. He’d never touch her—he really was not that bad a man—and he was going to Steynings for reasons that did not involve women or any kind of flirting. But still, he found himself looking forward to her arrival there.
*
He reached Steynings just in time for luncheon, which he was happy to forego in order to be taken immediately to his godfather, the Earl of Silford.
The old gentleman, whom he’d last seen frail and depressed over the death of another grandson, looked surprisingly hearty. Which might have had something to do with the lively young woman laughing as she walked toward his sitting-room door.
Marcus bowed. “Lady Sydney.”
“It still sounds odd to be called that,” she remarked. Her husband, Sydney Cromarty, might have been Lord Silford’s heir, but he had no formal title. Somehow, society had given them one that was decidedly informal and yet stuck. “Though I expect I take to it better than Sydney himself,” she added. “How do you, Sir Marcus? His lordship has been looking forward to your arrival. I’ll leave you together.”
“Worth her weight in gold, that girl,” Lord Silford said happily as the door closed behind her. “No idea how Sydney caught such a treasure, but I’m very glad of it.”
Marcus took the chair on the other side of the fireplace and regarded his godfather with affectionate derision. “Yes, but I suspect you already value Sydney just as much as his wife. I told you years ago he would make a fine earl, even when we thought there was little chance of him inheriting.”
“Yes, yes, you’re very clever,” Silford said impatiently. “But you didn’t come to say I told you so, or even to reunite with old friends. You’re off on your travels again, are you not?”
“Yes, I hope to be, as soon as I leave Steynings.”
“It’s not like you to trouble to say goodbye,” the old gentleman observed. “Usually, you just go. Afraid I’ll peg out before you return?”
“No, sir, I haven’t seen you look so well in years. It’s more to do with my destination, which is something of a…challenge.”
“Why, where are you off to this time?”
“Russia.”
The old man blinked. “Russia! In winter? In wartime?”
“Exactly. I wish to help the Russians in any way I can.”
Silford gazed at him in clear consternation. “But you are not even a soldier!”
Marcus’s smile was twisted. “True. I am not even that. But I have a good friend in charge of a Cossack militia who would welcome me.”
“Marcus, your own people welcome you,” Silford growled. “And need you! I thought you were done with this gallivanting and settled to your responsibilities. Stephen, your younger brother—”
“I remember who he is,” Marcus interrupted caustically.
“…is the soldier of the family,” Silford went on, ignoring him. “As is right and proper. And even he nearly died. Would have, by what I hear, if you hadn’t brought him out of France. God knows how you managed that, but the point is, such adventures are for young men! Not responsible landowners approaching middle age whose first duty is now to marry and produce an heir.”
With an effort, Marcus kept his temper in check. “I believe I am not yet in my dotage.”
“People will think you are if you continue with this mad start,” Silford retorted. “What on earth gave you this bizarre idea in the first place?”
Marcus shrugged. “Boredom, I suppose.” That and the growing feeling he had done nothing worthwhile with his life. “A debt I owe a friend.”
“And what you owe your people here?”
“I have spent four years on the estates to the extent that they now more or less run themselves. I have good people in place to make sure they continue to do so.”
“There is no substitute for a landlord who is present. I have learned that much in my long life!”
“And I’m sure you are quite right. All the same, I cannot believe that my absence for six months or even a year will bring the estate to the brink of collapse.”
To his surprise, the old gentleman looked more concerned than angry. “Don’t rush into anything. Promise me that much.”
“Of course. I shall stay for your ball with great pleasure.”
“It’s Henrietta’s ball,” Silford reminded him.