Lord Braybrook's Penniless Bride. Elizabeth Rolls

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      ‘None,’ said Julian. ‘Your brother is still ineligible as a match for my sister, even with the income his Grace has settled on him.’

      She nodded. ‘So. You have forbidden Harry the house, and—’

      ‘No. I have not.’ Serena had pointed out that the fastest way to encourage clandestine meetings was to ban legitimate ones. He could see the logic, but…

      ‘No? What sort of brother are you, then?’

      That caught Julian on the raw. ‘A good one, I hope!’ he snapped. ‘Yes, of course I could forbid them to meet! And where would I be when Lissy hoaxed herself into the role of Juliet and the young fools eloped?’ Serena again.

      ‘Lissy?’

      ‘Alicia,’ he said.

      ‘I beg your pardon,’ she said. ‘I did not mean to tell you how to order your sister’s life—’

      ‘Ouch,’ he said drily. ‘I hope that I do not order my sister’s life, as you put it.’

      She flushed. ‘I’m sorry, that was—’

      ‘If you don’t stop apologising, I shall start to think you are buttering me up.’

      ‘Nothing, my lord, could be further from my intentions!’

      ‘No. I thought as much,’ he murmured.

      That silenced her. If one discounted the draconian glare, which fairly scorched the air between them.

      He grinned. He couldn’t help it. He wished—oh, how he wished!—Serena could hear this exchange. He tripped on the thought—Serena would like this prim, outspoken woman. A woman who was about to be kicked out of her home…and Lissy needed a sharp dose of reality to convince her that life with Harry Daventry would not be love’s young dream at all, but a nightmare. Yes. This might work. Two birds with one shot. He almost patted himself on the back. And then remembered that not only had Miss Daventry not accepted, but that he hadn’t made the offer.

      ‘Miss Daventry,’ he began, ‘I gather you intend to seek lodgings when this house is sold.’

      ‘Until I can secure either a position as a companion or a teaching post.’

      Better and better. ‘In that case, I wonder if the offer of a position might be acceptable—’

      ‘No! It most certainly would not!’ she flared.

      He stared at her scarlet face. ‘I may live on Christmas Steps,’ she continued furiously, ‘but that does not mean—!’ She broke off, biting her lip.

      And he realised that—whether or not his reputation had preceded him—an unspecified offer from a gentleman might well be viewed with suspicion by a respectable female living on Christmas Steps.

      ‘My stepmother requires a companion,’ he said. And waited.

      He was disappointed. Apart from her blush deepening, Miss Daventry maintained her composure, or, rather, regained it.

      ‘Oh. I see,’ she said. ‘I cannot think, my lord, that you really want me as a companion for your stepmother.’

      No explanation. No apology. She moved straight on from the potential quagmire of embarrassment. He had to applaud.

      ‘Why not?’ he asked.

      ‘Only consider the consequences!’ she said. ‘If I were living in your house, Harry would use that to—’

      ‘Precisely,’ he said softly. ‘You would be an unexceptionable reason for your brother to call. Most illuminating for Alicia.’

      Her eyes flew to his. ‘You mean—’

      ‘Meeting you, knowing you must earn your living—’

      ‘Would give your sister food for thought,’ she finished.

      ‘Yes.’ She had caught the point in a flash. He added feelingly, ‘It would also relieve me of the stigma of being thought a mercenary, callous brute by my sister, because offering you the position would signify my approval of you and, by extension, your brother.’ But it would force Alicia to view Daventry in a different light—a young man who could not provide for his sister.

      Another silence. She was thinking about it. He had seen enough of her to know that otherwise she would have rejected the suggestion out of hand. Miss Daventry had a mind of her own and reserved the right to use it.

      ‘I doubt that I would be a suitable companion for Lady Braybrook,’ she said.

      If the lady in question were anyone but Serena, he would have agreed wholeheartedly. As it was…

      ‘You would amuse her,’ he said. ‘Meekness bores her, and I think we can leave that out of your list of virtues.’ An understatement if ever there was one.

      Amused at her blush, he went on. ‘An accident some years ago left her unable to walk. I want someone intelligent to keep her company. I was considering older females, but I think she would like you. You mentioned teaching—do you have any teaching experience?’

      ‘Yes.’

      ‘I have another sister still in the school room and a six-year-old brother. At present they have no governess, so you could help there.’

      Miss Daventry looked sceptical. ‘That will hardly answer once the summer is over and they require more lessons. I cannot be in two places at once.’

      He shrugged, dismissing the objection. ‘Once another governess is hired, you can be available on her days off, or if she is indisposed,’ he said. ‘Naturally, were you prepared to take on this dual—or should I say triple?—role, I would pay you accordingly. Shall we say, one hundred pounds per annum?’

      While he did not precisely expect Miss Daventry to leap at his generous offer like a cock at a blackberry, she would no doubt be somewhat flustered. Most governesses or companions were lucky to receive a quarter of that.

      The soft, rosy lips parted slightly and he felt a jolt of what he sincerely hoped was mere gratification….

      ‘You cannot possibly pay such a ridiculous sum to a companion who relieves the governess,’ she informed him.

      The devil he couldn’t! He bit that back, opting for icy civility. ‘I beg your pardon, ma’am?’

      ‘It is ridiculous,’ she repeated, her mouth re-primmed.

      It was, was it? Just how much more did the harpy want?

      ‘Moreover,’ she went on, ‘it would be grossly unfair to the other governess, who might well be older and far more experienced, were I to be paid such an astronomical sum!’

      His jaw dropped. ‘You’re complaining that I’m offering too much?’

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