The Companion's Secret. Susanna Craig

the other three dogs slackened slightly, but before they could take advantage of their shocked master’s moment of leniency, he had reined them in again. A puff of breath escaped Cami’s lips, and she allowed herself to relax ever so slightly.

      As she watched Felicity and Mr. Fox walk back in the direction from which he had come, she realized she was being left behind with Lord Ashborough. He seemed to have reached the same conclusion at the same moment, for he stepped closer to her. Too close. One could not observe at such proximity. It distorted the vision and muddled the senses. She could not seem to raise her eyes past the green-striped silk of his waistcoat, or clear her nose of the warm, spicy scent that lingered about him.

      Then he spoke, and she would have been willing to swear that she felt his voice as much as heard it. “We’ll have to hurry to catch them, Miss Burke. Unless, of course, you’d rather we be left alone?”

      * * * *

      Miss Burke stood frozen, face pale, shoulders raised and tense, hands balled into fists at her side. Her posture put him in mind of a small woodland creature hoping to escape the notice of a predator. Vulnerable, just as he had said.

      But he found himself suddenly disgusted by the thought. He much preferred yesterday’s show of strength. Despite the obvious alarm Fox’s revelation had produced, he did not think it was he—or at least, not he alone—that she feared.

      “Do Foxy’s dogs bother you?” he ventured, keeping his voice light.

      She stiffened further, this time in righteous indignation. “I haven’t the faintest notion what you mean, my lord. Whatever would make you say such a thing?”

      Her denial was too sharp, too swift, to be entirely honest. “The, er, enthusiasm shown by the pups seemed to startle you,” he explained. “You are no doubt accustomed to the more sedate behavior of your aunt’s pug.”

      Her throat worked up and down. “I have reached a—an accommodation with Chien, yes.”

      Chien? He could not prevent his eyes from rolling. Who named a dog Dog? Good God, Lady Merrick was lazier than he had thought. Lazy, and also so callous that she ignored her niece’s terror in favor of her own ease. A flicker of anger kindled in his belly.

      Against his better judgment, he held out his arm to her. It was not an intimate gesture, per se, but nevertheless one he generally avoided. He was a gentleman in nothing but name, and women ought not to be encouraged to entertain romantic notions to the contrary. Whatever he had to offer them, it was not safety.

      He noted the tremble of her hand as it grazed his forearm, fancied he could feel the chill of her gloved fingertips through the layers of his coats. Although she had followed them through the park as diligently, as unobtrusively, as a shadow, her mud-brown pelisse was as ineffective as yesterday’s dress at disguising what lay beneath. He easily identified the swell of her breast, the gentle curve of her waist. A straw bonnet at least as unbecoming as the pelisse hid her hair almost entirely, but a few wayward black wisps refused to be contained. Had she adopted this costume to ward off unwanted attention? Were there men who did not see past it?

      “We needn’t follow them too closely, Miss Burke,” he assured her. “You can have no concern for your cousin’s reputation in Fox’s company.”

      She shook her head. “You seem perfectly at your ease around dogs,” she said after they had walked a few steps, drawing no nearer to the others. “I suppose you are a sportsman.”

      Gabriel shrugged. “That sort of hunt has never captured my interest. The hounds, the horses…a ridiculous extravagance. Only rarely do I take on the responsibility for another’s care and feeding, Miss Burke,” he explained. “And when I do, I expect more than a few partridges as recompense.”

      If she suspected the conversation had lapsed into metaphor, she did not blush at it, though her dark brows rose.

      “Yes,” he continued, testing, “any pet of mine must do something to earn her keep.”

      “I suppose that is only fair. Perhaps it is the lack of useful occupation that renders lap dogs so vicious,” Miss Burke countered, the fear in her voice now replaced by the more familiar bite.

      “They are tame enough when well handled.”

      “You are never treated to bared teeth or a snarl, then?”

      “A nip now and then can be a sign of affection,” he said, his lips twisting wryly. “Or so I’m told.”

      Such banter was foolhardy, for more reasons than one. He was meant to be charming her, gaining a measure of her trust. Not scandalizing her further. Certainly not flirting with her. But he could not seem to help himself. He stole a glance in her direction, but she had turned her face away. The brim of her bonnet hid all from his view but the silvery rim of her spectacles.

      “You needn’t walk with me, you know,” she said after a moment. “It was not my intention to deprive you of more interesting company.”

      He narrowly suppressed a laugh. Miss Burke was even more innocent than he supposed if she imagined his conversation with her cousin had been anywhere near as interesting as this one. “If I resumed my stroll with Lady Felicity, would you then walk with Fox and his dogs?”

      He felt, rather than heard, her sharp intake of breath. “That would not be necessary,” she insisted in a small, rough voice. “I am quite used to being alone.”

      “No matter,” he said, covering her hand with his where it lay along his arm. He had not schemed for this outcome. But he meant to take advantage of it. “I for one am perfectly satisfied with the present arrangement.” They walked a few cautious steps in silence. “How do you pass your time in your uncle’s house?”

      Her head tilted quizzically as she turned toward him. “Pass my time? I read and answer Lady Merrick’s letters, respond to her invitations, and so forth.”

      “Do she and Lady Felicity receive a great number of invitations?”

      “I have no standard against which to measure such things. It certainly seems so to me.”

      He tried to decide whether she sounded petulant. “As Lady Merrick’s niece, you are included in them, I hope.”

      “As Lady Merrick’s companion, it would be perfectly inappropriate for me to attend social functions with the family.” A soft breeze fluttered the ribbons of her bonnet, and she jerked them firmly back into place. “I did not mean to make it seem as if I fault my aunt and cousin for making merry while they can. My uncle has indicated that this will be the family’s last London Season for some time. Because of Lord Trenton’s…indiscretions.”

      “Ah. I see.” He ought to have been surprised by her forthrightness. He was not. In fact, he found it rather attractive.

      A few steps farther, then she stopped once more. When he followed her gaze he saw that their absence had been noted by the others, who were returning to join them. His brief tête-à-tête with Miss Burke was coming to a close.

      Before he could decide the best use to make of their waning moments of privacy, she spoke. “I—I wish to know, Lord Ashborough,” she stammered, twisting around as if to face him but refusing to meet his eyes. “Is it true?”

      It was on the tip of his tongue to feign ignorance, although he knew full well what she meant. No one had ever dared ask him before—at least, not for a very long time. Her insistence on confronting him seemed in keeping with what he had seen of her character, however. He suspected very few challenges went unmet by this woman.

      In any case, it would serve no purpose to deny his guilt, for there was very little of which he was not guilty.

      When he made no reply, she at last lifted her chin. Her eyes darted over his face, as if she were making a mental sketch of the hard lines into which he had schooled his expression.

      “I do not know all you have heard of me, Miss Burke,” he said softly, holding her curious green gaze until she blushed. “But I believe