Her lips parted, and Blake held his breath. “A duke? My brother has never mentioned you before.”
Blake slowly blew out that deep breath and drew in another, as though he could somehow summon an extra dose of patience—for himself—from the unspoiled country air. Why had he gone and said that? Was he a deuced fool? He had never met theviscount. “Does it matter how I know him? I heard of his predicament and I’m here to help.”
“Yes, but...” She cocked her head. “How do I know you aren’t here to cause me trouble?”
Right. Of course. She should be skeptical. But what excuse could he give that didn’t make him seem like a madman? Maybe something factual this time—at least slightly? “Baston. He is the one causing your troubles, is he not?”
Her eyes widened. “Yes.” Then they narrowed. “Are you acquainted with him?”
“Not personally, no, but I have had some unpleasantness with him as well.”
“I see.” She nodded as though that were reason enough.
He traced her features. A face much lovelier than he remembered, lovelier than any of his dreams could have done justice. Time truly did dull the pictures in one’s mind to a startling vagueness.
But she’s still as fearless as ever.
Most ladies would have remained inside the shelter of their carriage to wait for help to arrive. Not Lady Rosilee Fairchild. Here she stood, utterly composed, too composed for someone whose carriage wheel had just spectacularly crumbled on a deserted road, who had nearly been trampled by a horse, and who was now conversing with a presumed stranger. Yet the stubborn tilt of her jaw spoke volumes.
Her bright blue eyes blazed with purpose.
A wayward sandy lock caught his attention. His fingers itched to tuck it behind her ear, so he balled his fists to refrain from succumbing to that unwelcome temptation. He was nothing but a beast. His touch was unfit for her.
“Well, since you are here to help, Your Grace, I could use your assistance in unharnessing two of our horses so we can set off for London as soon as possible.”
Blake glanced at the horses. “No need, I have a man following in a carriage. They will be here soon.”
“Oh?” Questions filled her gaze.
He tugged at his cravat. He hated the things, and this one seemed impossibly tight. “I shall personally escort you to London.”
“You? Are you sure? Wouldn’t that be too inconvenient for you?”
“As I said, I am here for you. I shall offer any help within my ability.” Even if it meant finding her a husband worthy of her. Though it was hard to believe such a man could even exist.
“How can we trust you, sir? How do we know you are who you say you are?” the boy suddenly said. “A duke.”
What the devil, Benjamin?Why would he question his own employer? Blake scowled at the black-haired scamp.
“Good point,” Lady Rosilee said. “You do have me at a disadvantage, Your Grace. For you know who I am, but I know nothing about you.”
“You know I’m the Duke of Crane.”
A single brow arched. “Do I? I only have your word.”
Damn it. How could he convince her? “I live in Dorset,” Blake offered further. “I have no animals.”
She stared at him as if he’d sprouted horns. Perhaps he bloody had. “You are not very sociable, are you?”
“It’s one of my greatest strengths.”
A laugh bubbled from her, and Blake’s entire body stilled at the lovely sound. “Well, I happen to be a good judge of character, and I sense no malice from you, so I shall accept your help and trust you for now.”
Just like that?
So trusting. He cast an unforgiving curse upon Bishop as the damaged carriage caught his attention again. How could the man have tampered with her carriage wheel to delay theirjourney? What if the carriage had capsized? She could have been injured!
He must not have hidden his ire or the direction of his gaze, for she said, “The wheel must have hit a rock or something sharp, but no lasting harm was done.” She suddenly waved a hand dismissively, as if broken wheels and derailed journeys were trivialities of no consequence. “Fortunately, you arrived.”
