you were aware of the danger which…which just makes it worse.”
“Right.” She bit her lip and strove for courage. “What I’m about to tell you certainly won’t make it better.”
Apprehension filled his eyes. “What?”
She took a quick breath and said, “I’m not a whore.”
His face went completely blank. “You’re not a whore?”
She shook her head. “I lived at Amourette’s. I didn’t work there.”
“But you…” His gaze had turned restless, looking anywhere but at her. “When I arrived you came to help. You took my name and inquired about my preferences.”
“Only because no one else was there and because you happened to spot me. Maintaining Amourette’s high standard by being helpful was a better option than risking a peer’s criticism on account of poor service.”
“So you’re not…um…”
“No.”
“Which means you’re still …um…”
“Innocent doesn’t quite fit, does it?”
“I, er…” He cleared his throat and tried again, only to sound as if every word he attempted was strangling him.
Ida sighed. “My virginity remains intact, if that’s what you wish to know.”
“You…” He stared at her as if unsure of how to grapple this new piece of information. “You misled me.”
“Yes.” He blinked, either because of her candor or because he was having a hard time accepting what she’d just told him, she wasn’t quite sure. “Initially, I saw no reason to tell you. Later, after deciding to let you help, I thought the information might stand in the way of us working together.”
Silence.
The clock on top of the dresser began to chime.
“Right.” Fielding clamped his mouth shut and strode to the door. He paused there only to say, “This conversation is far from over. I’ll wait for you downstairs.”
Upon which he left, though not without slamming the bedchamber door.
Simon hurried downstairs, not pausing for breath until he arrived in the kitchen. He was trembling from head to toe, attempting to grasp what he’d just been told. His palms were clammy and his heart beat so hard it threatened to crack his ribs.
“Christ!”
He stared at the kettle and wished he’d had the presence of mind to make sure the house had a fully stocked liquor cabinet. What he needed right now, in spite of the early hour, was a stiff drink to calm his nerves and ease the tension in his muscles.
This was the second time he’d misjudged a person based on appearance. He ought to have learned his lesson after assuming the Duke of Huntley and his sisters were servants the first time he’d met them. Now he’d blundered again, and with dire consequences, no less.
Clasping the edge of the kitchen table he sought to steady himself. She was an innocent young gentlewoman living alone, unchaperoned, in a house owned by a bachelor. It was beyond the pale – scandalous and ruinous in the extreme – although he supposed her reputation had been destroyed anyway the moment her father sent her to live with Philipa Harding.
Blindly, Simon started locating some food and putting it onto plates. She’d need to eat and he wouldn’t mind some sustenance either, having rushed through his breakfast in order to return here as quickly as possible. Untangling the irritation and worry he’d felt when he realized she’d gone out alone last night had been trying. She still had some explaining to do, but the truth was…
Simon flexed his fingers. He’d never liked sharing. So from that point of view Miss Strong’s confession, however startling, also evoked a degree of excitement. Not because he expected to have her, but rather because if he did, he wouldn’t just be a job to her. He’d be something more.
“Our situation is rather unique,” he said once she’d joined him and they’d both taken a few bites of food. The tea he’d made was a bit too strong, so he offered to top up her cup with some water. She quietly sipped the drink while watching him closely. “You’re not supposed to be here, alone with a man to whom you’re not related – a bachelor, no less. I don’t think I would have allowed it if I’d known the truth. And I’m fairly certain I would have insisted on that chaperone.”
“You mean you’re not sure?” A hint of amusement lifted the serious façade she’d put on display since their argument. “Perhaps you’re not so much of a gentleman after all.”
He bristled. Her implication struck its mark with alarming force. “I’m sorry, but the truth is your staying here won’t affect your reputation any more than your prolonged residence at Amourette’s already has.”
“Let’s not