“What do you think of the lady?” Dorothy asked, her tone rather serious for a change.
“I think she is a highly respected lady,” Stephen said with a measured tone. “She is well-liked and always has many people from the ton to stay every year.”
“Well, a proper and polite answer if there ever was one!” Dorothy declared with her hands on her hips. “You did not say if you liked her.”
“That’s the thing about propriety, Dorotheo, something that seems to have escaped you by. You can give a compliment without giving your true opinion of someone.”
“Propriety has not passed me by completely. Am I not wearing a gown today?” She fussed with the skirt of her dress. “This is an improvement.”
“From the breeches? Certainly. The breeches you wear fit you far too well, so much so that your stable hands have started gawping at you.”
“They do what?” Allan jerked his head around in surprise, nearly dropping his claret glass.
“It hasn’t escaped your notice, has it?” Stephen asked in amazement, only to see Allan shrug.
It appeared that with Allan’s preoccupation with thinking about taking over his father’s land and business affairs, it had passed him by how much attention Dorothy was drawing from all quarters.
“My advice is not to let her wear those breeches anymore,” Stephen said quietly to Allan.
“I cannot control her.”
“Though the Lord knows you try to,” Dorothy huffed and walked away. “Stephen, surely you would not go to this event if invited, would you? So, why should I go?”
“I am not the one on the marriage market,” Stephen explained, although he could feel Allan looking at him keenly with these words. “You are,” he said simply to Dorothy.
She huffed once more and turned away. “Am I? Or is that just my brother’s order again?”
“Dorothy, enough, I beg of you.” Allan was rubbing his temples once more. “I cannot handle any more of you two bickering today. Please, Dorothy, leave us so we can talk. You and I can continue our argument tomorrow.”
Dorothy blushed a deep shade of crimson as she turned around in the room.
Not for the first time did Stephen wonder if Dorothy had been truly upset when Allan had sent her away. She was one for chatter and conversation. This last year, she had been sent to other rooms, quite alone, more than once.
“Fine. Goodnight to you both,” she said without real feeling. “See? I can be proper.” She threw the words over her shoulder to Stephen as she reached for the doorknob.
“Try and say it with more feeling next time if you want to be truly proper,” Stephen called to her, but she shut the door sharply and cut off his words. He turned on the desk, with much he wished to speak to Allan about, but before he could say anything, Allan grimaced.
“I have something to ask of you, Stephen. I have a feeling, sadly, you might not like it very much.”
CHAPTERTWO
“What is it?” Stephen asked as Allan topped up their claret glasses, though Stephen had barely taken more than three sips of his yet.
“This trip to Lady Webster’s.” Allan sat back in his chair, so far that it creaked under his weight. The sudden movement made the candles on the desk dance, too, their flames quivering and the yellow light surrounding them flickering. “Would you escort my sister for me?”
Stephen blinked, certain for a second that he had heard Allan wrong, but Allan continued to stare at him, waiting for an answer.
“Forgive me whilst I slap myself and make sure this isn’t some nightmare.” Stephen tapped his own cheek. “Are you mad?” he cried and jumped off the desk. “She already doesn’t want to go. You wish for me to be the bull she baits when she has to go?”
“Not for that reason.” Allan shook his head. “I have some business to attend to. My father was successful in business, yes, but I fear not everyone is as kind a fellow as he thought them to be. Since his death, some of his partners have been trying to make a grab for his money. There are things I have to attend to here in Kent for the next couple of weeks. I fear I cannot journey to Hampshire at this time.”
“Hampshire.” Stephen sighed and began pacing up and down the room.
“All I need you to do is keep an eye on her. Make sure she doesn’t make a complete spectacle of herself—” At those last words, Stephen shot him a look. “Yes, I’m well aware she’s very capable of doing that at any event. Yet, you’re sensible enough to rein her in.”
“She will not listen to me. She never does. She simply argues with me.”
“She argues with you, but she does also listen to what you say. Have you never noticed it?” Allan asked, leaning forward once more.
