Married to the Rogue (Season of Scandal #3) - Mary Lancaster Page 0,6
the children in the square, noting her siblings among them, and walked on to the shop to buy the supplies Cook had asked for. There, she bought everything required, except the sherry her mother had requested. The shopkeeper did not sell wines but kindly directed her to the inn.
With her basket almost full, Deborah walked on to the inn at the end of the street. Here, she was welcomed by the friendly innkeeper’s wife, Mrs. Briggs, who went off immediately to fetch her a bottle of the “good” sherry.
As she stood in the entrance hall waiting, a gentleman strode out of the coffee room on her left. She glanced at him and saw with embarrassed alarm that it was the angry horseman from yesterday.
He didn’t seem inclined to stop, fortunately, merely inclining his head in a curt but civil manner as he walked on. But he took only one more pace before he glanced back at her and halted, a smile of recognition banishing the severity in his face.
“Why, Miss Tumblebumpkin.”
Deborah flushed. “Sir. You must know I now answer only to Miss Raspberry.”
His eyes had a rather attractive way of crinkling at the corners when he smiled. “Forgive me, Miss Raspberry. You are a very good-natured governess. Or very put-upon.”
“Oh, it is only fun,” she said uncomfortably.
He considered her. His clear blue eyes still looked stormy today, but the rage of yesterday had fortunately faded. “Actually, I was just on my way to call upon Mrs. Shelby, to apologize again for riding so recklessly among you yesterday. Especially to you and the little girl. It was unforgivable.”
“No harm was done.”
“Which I think was your doing rather than mine.”
“We all do foolish things without intent sometimes,” she murmured.
His head tilted to one side. “What is your story, Miss…?”
“Here it is, Miss Shelby!” the innkeeper’s wife said, rounding the corner with a beaming smile. “Will it go in your basket?”
“Yes, of course,” Deborah said, wishing the ground would open and swallow her. “Thank you.”
“Miss Shelby,” Mr. Halland repeated, only faint mockery in his voice. “Now, I have to hear that story. Mrs. Briggs, a pot of fresh coffee, if you please. Will you join me, Miss Shelby?”
“Thank you, no,” she said hastily. “I can satisfy your curiosity immediately. It was a joke my siblings were playing before we even left the house. Of course, I am not the governess, and we never expected anyone to believe I was. Good afternoon, sir.”
“I’ve offended you,” he said.
“Indeed, no, sir. I have every intention of becoming a governess in the near future, so it would be a foolish offense for me to take.”
He regarded her with a gleam of speculation she could not understand. Then he glanced at the avidly watching Mrs. Briggs, who, almost as though silently instructed, smiled at Deborah.
“You’ll be perfectly safe in here, Miss. No one will disturb you but myself and the maid, and we’ll leave the door open to keep everything right. You look as if you could do with a rest and a drink.”
Deborah hesitated. Her instinct was to flee. But it struck her that this man was a friend of Sir Edmund’s, and she should make sure he did not think badly of the governess nonsense. Besides, in spite of her natural reserve, which made her uncomfortable with new people, he intrigued her, dangerous temper and all.
Seeing her indecision, he reached out and closed his fingers around the handle of the basket. Startled, she let it go.
“You look like a hunted gazelle,” he observed. “Poised for flight but not quite sure if it’s necessary.”
“I suppose I am unlikely to be ridden over in a public inn,” she managed and walked past him into the coffee room.
“Touché,” he murmured behind her.
Choosing the corner table, he placed the basket on one of the wooden chairs and held the one next to it for Deborah. She sat, and to her relief, he took the bench against the wall, opposite her, leaving plenty distance between them.
“So, Miss Shelby, explain to me why you seek to become a governess.”
“It is a simple matter of necessity, sir. My previous position ended.” Idiot! Why did you bring that up?
“Ended?”
“My employer moved abroad,” she said hastily.
“Ah. I understand your family came to Coggleton only recently?”
“After my father died. Obviously, we could not continue at the vicarage when it was needed by his replacement. Mrs. Copsley, the squire’s wife here, is an old friend of my mother’s, so she was glad to find a suitable house