From Waif To Gentleman's Wife. Julia Justiss

she realised that, though they’d set the chair down, Mr Greaves remained beside her … very close beside her. As he was nearly a head taller, she had to angle her face up to give him a questioning look—and encountered a heated gaze that scorched her to her stays.

      ‘You don’t really need to leave,’ he said softly, his intent gaze never leaving her eyes. ‘You’ve no money for coach fare—and no way to earn any in the village. Why not stay here, write to your father’s solicitor and request him to advance you funds on your father’s account? Or, if you prefer, we might come to … another arrangement.’

      Though half an hour previously she had burned at the thought of kissing him, as he towered over her now, desire in his eyes, she felt only a blind panic.

      He did believe her a doxy! She raised her hands as if to ward him off—though she knew despairingly that if he was bent on taking her, he could do so, for she’d never be able to fight him off and there was no one here to rescue her.

      ‘P-please, Mr Greaves,’ she stuttered, hot tears of shame dripping down her cheeks. ‘I’m n-not what you think.’

      She must have closed her eyes, bracing herself, but suddenly instead of the warmth of him pressed against her, she felt a chill. She snapped her eyes open, astounded to discover that he’d retreated several steps away her. A flush on his handsome face, he was drawing a handkerchief out of his waistcoat.

      Handing it to her, he said, ‘Pray forgive me, Mrs Merrill! I know my behaviour was unconscionable, but I needed to determine if your character was as you presented it or not.’

      ‘You needed to determine …’ she echoed, relief, disbelief and confusion making her hot, then cold, then dizzy.

      He seized her arm—but gently, protectively—and eased her to the sofa. ‘Sit, I beg you!’ he said, urging her down on its edge. ‘Don’t want you swooning on me again. I’ve been considering plans for your future—which do not, I assure you, include having you assume a horizontal position for me or anyone else. However, to implement them I needed to know with absolute assurance that you are in fact the lady of blameless character you’ve just shown yourself to be.’

      She blotted her eyes and handed him back his handkerchief. ‘You mean,’ she asked incredulously, ‘you were … testing me?’

      His cheeks reddened again. ‘Well … yes,’ he admitted.

      She was torn between shrieking with laughter—and slapping him for scaring her so. ‘And here I’d been thinking what an exemplary gentleman you were! You are a brigand, sir! A bully and a brigand!’ she fumed.

      ‘You are quite justified in abusing me. I assure you, I believe that a man who takes advantage of an unwilling lady is a cur who deserves to be horsewhipped. I don’t have a whip handy, but you may strike me if you like.’ He angled his face towards her.

      ‘You should be more careful what you offer,’ she said tartly. ‘I grappled with my brother growing up and could plant you a facer that would leave you bruised for a week. Indeed, had I not been so cast down by the dreadful events of the last few days, I should have done so when you made your insulting offer.’

      ‘Please, don’t remind me!’ he groaned. ‘I deserve that fate and more. Although if I were truly a brigand, I’d not have let you go,’ he added.

      His tone was light—but a heated something flared between them that she felt right down to her bones. Only this time, she was not afraid.

      She had been right on both accounts, it seemed. He did desire her. But Mr Greaves was no Lord Masters, plundering where he would.

      He was truly the gentleman she’d thought him—if a devious one! A man with whom, except for that single moment he’d towered over her, she felt safe, even though she was virtually alone with him in his house, with neither friends nor family to defend her.

      ‘Would you like a glass of wine?’ he asked, recalling her.

      ‘You think I require something to settle my nerves?’

      ‘I don’t know about you, but I do, and it wouldn’t be polite to drink alone. Though at this moment you probably don’t believe me, I’ve never before tried to debauch a gentlewoman. ‘Twas a deucedly disturbing experience.’

      She chuckled, sure his levity was meant to set her at ease. ‘Very well, I’ll take a glass. To be polite, so you may settle your nerves.’

      After he poured the wine and took a chair a respectful distance away, she said, ‘What are these plans you mentioned? Though it is indeed kind of you to be concerned, I have no claim upon you. There is no reason whatsoever for you to concern yourself with my predicament.’

      ‘Perhaps I have no claim on you, but there is another, much more important than me, who does. I was given to understand that your brother is Lord Englemere’s cousin?’

      When she nodded, he continued, ‘Which, of course, makes you his cousin as well. I am certain that, once he is apprised of your situation, Lord Englemere will wish to assist you.’

      All the indignation she’d previously felt on her brother’s behalf returned in a rush. ‘Indeed? And whatever could have led you to that astounding conclusion? Need I remind you that Lord Englemere recently discharged my brother from a position he no doubt counted on filling for the rest of his days? My brother, who served his country valiantly at Waterloo?’

      Once begun, she couldn’t seem to stop. ‘Oh, you don’t know him,’ she rushed on, ‘but I assure you, Greville possesses the most agreeable and obliging of temperaments. I cannot imagine anyone being vexed with him! He was the kindest elder brother a girl could wish for.’

      ‘And look around you!’ she demanded, her tone strident as she gestured towards the spotless, orderly room. ‘How could any reasonable employer fault Greville’s management of this house? I begin to believe that all gentlemen of high rank are as venal as Lord Masters! In any event, if Lord Englemere had no compunction about summarily discharging my brother, why should he trouble himself about my fate? Nor do I wish him to. I would as soon throw myself on the charity of the man who ruined my brother’s career as I would play the doxy for him.’

      Her tirade over, suddenly she realised poor Mr Greaves was just sitting there staring at her, surprise and dismay on his face. Heavens, what had possessed her to run on in such a fashion?

      ‘I beg you will excuse me,’ she began again quietly, embarrassed by her outburst. ‘Truly, I am not normally so intemperate. Perhaps the events of this last week have disordered my sensibilities more than I’d thought.’

      ‘Perhaps,’ Mr Greaves said drily. ‘I recommend the wine. ‘Tis a fine vintage.’

      Not until she’d obediently swallowed a sip did it occur to her that the personage she’d just roundly abused was Mr Greaves’s employer, the man to whom he owed his position and his loyalty. ‘Excuse me as well for insulting your patron,’ she added hastily. ‘Admittedly I know nothing of the circumstances surrounding Greville’s discharge. Lord Englemere awarded you this post and you may well think highly of him.’

      Looking troubled, Mr Greaves opened his lips, closed them, then finally said, ‘I am … sorry for your brother’s circumstances. Though at present my regard for Lord Englemere may seem inexplicable, yes, I do esteem him very highly.’

      ‘I’m sure you have your reasons. Let’s simply agree to speak no more of him.’

      ‘Then you absolutely would not consent to my contacting the Marquess on your behalf?’

      ‘I want nothing to do with him,’ she said flatly.

      ‘I see.’ Mr Greaves sipped his wine, looking thoughtful. After a moment, he said, ‘Very well, then, we shall have to come up with another plan.’

      That reminder of her grim and still unresolved circumstances abruptly drained the high spirits engendered by their verbal sparring. ‘Coming up with a