His brow dipped in confusion. That was preferable to any knowing on his part of the effect his impressive physique had upon her. “Forgive me,” she said, proud of the stoic deliverance of those words. “You were saying, my lord?”
“I was not saying anything.” Dry humor underscored that statement.
She furrowed her brow. “Weren’t you?”
“We were speaking of my polite and proper sister.”
Something in the slight emphasis of those two very important words gave her pause; set up a slight warning bell that suggested there was more at play. As soon as the thought slipped in, she thrust it back. Of course any prideful nobleman would speak of his sister’s worth in their narrow-minded Society. “Yes, we were,” she murmured.
“Do tell me,” he drawled. “What else did Mrs. Belden say about my sister?”
Her mind went blank. Literally blank. Every single thought, worry, or hope fled with that question. Something in his tone suggested he sought a very specific something from Jane with that question. “Say?” She winced at that dreadful nervous tendency to parrot back another’s words.
He waved a hand about and she followed that faint movement. “Surely she spoke more of my sister, Chloe?”
“Indeed.” She had not. Oh, to someone the head dragon had surely said something, but it would have never been to Jane who, with her birthright, had been treated as lesser than the dirt upon the dull, black boots donned by the headmistress. The marquess sought specific information from her on his sister. She’d give him precisely the falsities craved by the heartless, self-aggrandizing members of the ton. She spread her hands wide. “I assure you, my lord, Mrs. Belden has thoroughly informed me about your sister, the esteemed Lady Chloe, who by her very nature aspires to an honorable, distinguished match.”
That silenced the pompous lord. After all, Jane had merely spouted off what most members of polite Society hoped for; for their daughters, sisters, and selves.
Chapter 4
The esteemed headmistress, Mrs. Belden, was either cracked in the head sending him Mrs. Munroe to oversee his sister Chloe or the woman knew her charges a good deal less than she was purported to.
Gabriel ran a critical eye over the rumpled woman in her drab brown dress. By the manner in which she’d drawn her blonde hair tightly back at the nape of her neck and the spectacles perched on the rim of her pert nose, Mrs. Munroe evinced a proper companion and she’d make some proper English lady a perfectly acceptable companion.
Just not his sister.
By Mrs. Munroe’s admission, his sister aspired to an honorable, distinguished match. In truth, his sister would sooner lob off her arm than make any match. He bit back a curse of annoyance. His spirited, headstrong sister would devour a woman with Mrs. Munroe’s awkward smiles and words of proper, polite ladies. No, if he allowed Mrs. Munroe the post of companion, his sister would remain unwed for yet another Season and Gabriel would be obligated, once more, to endure another Season and another year with her uncared for; his responsibility stretching on. He drummed his fingertips on the arms of his chair.
“I mean you no disrespect,” he began. Because there really was no gentle or polite way to dismiss a woman from a position she’d not even fully stepped into. Time was of the essence.
With an unexpected show of spirit, Mrs. Munroe leaned forward in her chair. “I beg your pardon, my lord?” A frown marred her lips.
Gabriel opened his mouth to disabuse her of the notion that she’d be granted the position as companion but blinked instead. He fixed his gaze upon the too-full, bow-shaped lips. Odd a plain woman of her severity should possess such a tempting mouth that fairly begged to be kissed. Gabriel fisted his hands into tight balls. God help him, he was his depraved father’s son. “I am afraid you will not do,” he blurted. What madness was this, admiring the mouth of a servant who’d come to him seeking employment? He gave his head a disgusted shake.
Confusion creased her brow. “I will not do what?”
He was making a blasted mess of this. “You will not do as a companion.” With a sigh, he came to his feet. “You are, of course, welcome to stay the evening and I will send you back to Mrs. Belden’s with the use of my personal carriage.” He sketched a bow and made to turn toward his desk when he registered the crystalline blue of her eyes. The endless depths made a man think of summer skies and unexplored waters. For all that was plain about the woman, there was a staggering beauty in those fathomless irises.