The Wayward Debutante. Sarah Barnwell Elliott

and if he tried to stop her she’d…

      Probably expire on the spot, but she’d worry about that later.

      She rose. “Do enjoy the sunshine, Mr. Bentley. I wish you a good day.” But as she took her first step, he moved to the side to block her.

      “Not so fast, Smith. I’m starting to think you’re following me. You’ll have to explain yourself first.”

      Eleanor glared at that absurd suggestion. Speaking quietly through clenched teeth, she ordered, “Move out of my way, Mr. Bentley, or I will scream.”

      He arched an amused eyebrow, almost daring her to make good on her offer. After a few seconds he asked, “Well? I’m waiting.”

      She opened her mouth slightly, but not a scream, or even a peep came out. Her cheeks suffused with color. Of course she wouldn’t do it; she had no desire for public humiliation. The horrible man had called her bluff.

      And he knew it, too. He looked altogether too smug.

      “You grow tedious, Mr. Bentley,” she said finally. “Have you no one else to bother?”

      “Not when you’ve so unexpectedly improved my morning. Who were those women?”

      Surprised by the sudden change of topic, she blinked in confusion. “Which women?”

      “The ones speaking to you. The stern gray one and the blond one who stayed behind with you for a minute. Do you work for the younger one?”

      A sudden wave of dizziness forced her back down on the bench. This was very bad news indeed. He’d seen her family, and finding out her identity and theirs was just a short step away. Work for Beatrice? What exactly had she told him? Oh, yes. Eleanor Smith: governess.

      “I look after her two-year-old son.” She didn’t feel at all confident as she told this falsehood, but hoped he would believe it since she resembled neither her sister nor her aunt.

      He let his eyes wander down her body and then back up. “Dresses you rather well, doesn’t she?”

      She stiffened under his disconcerting gaze. “I simply benefit from her castoffs. She is very generous. I…I just have her clothes altered to fit me. This dress is two seasons old.”

      He nodded slowly. “And as she appears to be enceinte, presumably in a few months you will have another charge.”

      “Yes. I can hardly wait.”

      “And how long have you worked for her?”

      She felt as if she was being quizzed under oath, only she didn’t have any answers to give since every word she uttered was spur-of-the-moment perjury. “Not very long.”

      “Two days ago you said you were looking for work.”

      “Yes, well, I lied.” She had no trouble coming up with that answer—it was the first bit of truth she’d spoken since they began this ludicrous conversation, and the words came out easily. But, oh God, now she’d have to explain why she’d lied…

      He sat down on the other side of the bench. He was looking at her skeptically. “It’s not nice to tell falsehoods, Miss Smith.”

      “I don’t care,” she said defiantly. “Why should I have told you the truth?” She didn’t exactly know how she’d explain herself out of this mess, but desperation helped the words to flow, as did the fact that he was too close to her and she really needed to leave. “I believe it was you, sir, who pointed out how improper it was for a governess to be at the theater alone. I simply didn’t want you to know who my employer was, so I told you I had none. But now you’ve found me out. You may tell her if you like.” She sincerely hoped he wouldn’t take her up on this challenge, and she was relieved by his answer. He even looked a tiny bit contrite.

      “I have no desire for you to lose your position.”

      She rose again, this time determined to leave. “Now, you will forgive me, but I really must go. She will wonder what has kept me.”

      He rose, too. “I’ll walk with you.”

      His words caused a swirl of unfamiliar sensation deep down in her stomach, but she tried to ignore it. “That won’t be necessary.” She started walking briskly, but he paid no heed to her refusal and began walking with her.

      She stopped and turned on him. “What do you want, sir?”

      It was a reasonable question, and he wasn’t even sure of the answer himself. He could hardly confess that he wanted to kiss her, that he wanted to take her home with him and keep her there until he grew bored. She was completely adorable, especially when her cheeks filled with color and she looked as though she was ready to stomp her foot in irritation. He certainly wasn’t ready to see the last of her.

      “I have a confession to make, Miss Smith. Thought you’d want to hear it before you left.”

      She was extremely curious to hear it, but it didn’t matter. As much as he infuriated her, his was the most thrilling company she’d ever experienced and her self-possession was vanishing fast. “I don’t care.”

      But before she could turn away, he reached into his pocket and removed her reticule. He held it out to her. “My confession is that I didn’t just stumble upon you. I found this after you left the theater…there was an invitation inside, addressed to your mistress. I was on my way to return it, but you were leaving the house just as I arrived.”

      She took the reticule from his hand, but just looked at it dumbly. Slowly, she started walking again, trying to digest this new set of facts. He knew where she lived. How disastrous. What if he should seek her out there? Or change his mind and decide to tell Beatrice after all?

      She looked at him from the corner of her eye. She didn’t actually think he’d do either. In the first place, he had no reason to go to the trouble of seeking her out, not when he was handsome enough to have his pick of beautiful women. And second, she didn’t really think he’d tell Beatrice. Doing so would be deliberately cruel. But then again, he’d already proved he was capable of a certain amount of underhandedness in order to get what he wanted.

      She needed a strategy, and provoking him further would obviously get her nowhere.

      She stopped walking and turned to face him. He stopped, too, and waited.

      She swallowed nervously, and then spoke. “I’m sorry if I’ve been rude to you this morning. I mean, you deserve it, but nevertheless it is remiss of me not to thank you. For rescuing me from that horrid man the other night. And for returning this. The invitation inside is very important.”

      James smiled, and her heart fluttered. “Don’t thank me too soon.”

      She furrowed her brow. “What do you mean, ‘too soon’?”

      He began to walk forward again and, unaware of what she was doing, she followed his cue and began walking with him. “Well,” he said slowly, “I have another proposition to make.”

      “What kind of proposition?” Eleanor asked. She quickly amended her words, however, realizing that she probably didn’t want to know the answer. “Actually, you don’t need to tell me.”

      “I assure you it’s nothing sinister, Miss Smith. Do you always think such base thoughts?”

      “Base thoughts!”

      He stopped once more, leaning this time against a tall oak tree. “Yes. It’s a perfectly innocent proposition and you won’t even let me begin. It’s precisely what happened when I tried to make the same proposition at the theater—you misunderstood me badly, you know, and maligned my character in the process. Instead of waiting to hear what I had to offer, you dashed off like a scared deer.”

      She bristled at the comparison. “Do you refer to your gallant offer of employment? As you now know, I’ve no need of work.”

      “Shall I tell you what my offer was? Or would you