Who Will Take This Man?

flowers. Perhaps it was her fragrance? He inhaled and instantly discarded the notion. No, she did not smell like flowers. She smelled like-he leaned a bit closer to her and inhaled again-like freshly baked cake.

No, it was her coloring, he suddenly realized, that brought flowers to mind. Her skin looked as soft as roses, her cheekbones blushed with peach, and her lips were colored with a delicate pinkish red, all colors he recalled from his mother’s formal country gardens at Ravensly Manor.

Bakari harrumphed. “Might want to invite lady in,” came his dry whisper behind him, “not gawk at her in the doorway.”

Annoyed at himself, Philip instantly stepped back. Damn. Clearly some brushing up on his manners was called for. “Please come in, Miss Chilton-Grizedale.”

She inclined her head in a regal fashion and entered the foyer. “Thank you, Lord Greybourne. I apologize for calling so early, but I believe it is essential that we get a timely start. I am ready to depart whenever you are.” Her gaze flicked over his attire, and her eyes widened.

“Depart? But you’ve just arrived.” Looking pert and fresh and smelling good enough to nibble upon.

Bloody hell, where had that thought come from? Clearly it entered his head because he harbored a weakness for freshly baked cake. Yes, that’s all it was.

“I’ve come to accompany you. To help you look through the crates to locate the other half of the stone.” Her clear, aqua gaze met his questioningly. “Where exactly are we going?”

“The crates are stored in a warehouse near the docks. I cannot ask you to accompany me to such an area, or to help me with such a task, Miss Chilton-Grizedale. It is tedious, dirty, exhausting work.”

She lifted her chin and somehow managed to appear to look down the slope of her pert nose at him-amazing, considering he stood a good six inches taller than she. “First, there is no need to ask me, my lord, as I have offered my assistance. Second, I am quite accustomed to work and do not tire easily. And as for the docks, you need not worry about protecting me, as I am armed. Third-”

“Armed?”

“Of course.” She held her reticule aloft. “Filled with stones. One cosh to the head will fell any brigand. A very practical device I learned long ago to carry with me at all times.”

He stared at the innocent-looking beaded bag dangling from her wrist by a velvet drawstring. She’d learned this trick long ago? What sort of upbringing had the very proper Miss Chilton-Grizedale had that would warrant arming herself? “Are you normally in the habit of, er, delivering coshes to the head?”

“Hardly ever.” He raised his gaze and met eyes flickering with mischief. “Unless, of course, a gentleman makes the error of trying to dissuade me from doing something I wish to do.”

“I see. And in that case you-”

“Cosh first, then ask questions later, I’m afraid.” She twirled the little bag around in a circle, then continued in a brisk tone, “And third, the time spent together will provide the dual purpose for me to reacquaint you with some of the rules of Society you have clearly forgotten. As for this expedition proving distressing to my clothing, I harbor no fear of my garments becoming dirty, as-brace yourself-they can be laundered. And last, I shall not find any task tedious that might result in the ending of this curse. Have you seen The Times?”

“I’m afraid so, although how they gained the information about the curse, I do not know.”

“Creepers, no doubt.” At his questioning look, she clarified, “Newspaper informers. They earn their living ferreting out information-most often information that the persons involved would prefer not to have offered up for public consumption.”

“And how do they gather this information?”

“They steal or intercept correspondence, eavesdrop, bribe servants, any number of devious ways. No doubt one of them overheard us talking in St. Paul’s yesterday.”

Philip shook his head. “Incredible. The lengths that people will go… just incredible.”

“Not at all. It’s quite common. Actually, I find you dunking such a practice to be incredible quite amazing. Forgive my bluntness, my lord, but you seem to hold a rather naive view of the world, for one who is so well traveled.”

“Naive?” An incredulous laugh escaped him. “I have no illusions about people and their motives, Miss Chilton- Grizedale, and I did not have to leave England to form those opinions. If anything, my travels abroad renewed my faith in my fellow man. In one way, however, I suppose you are correct, although I would call myself ‘un-practiced’ as opposed to naive. While I have been exposed to dishonesty in many forms, my time and thoughts have, for many years, been focused on objects and people from the past. I fear I cannot claim any expertise in the area of modern human behavior. In fact, what I know of it leaves me largely unimpressed.”

She regarded him through serious eyes. “Yet I believe that human behavior is most likely very much the same today as it was hundreds, even thousands, of years ago.”

Her statement surprised him. And piqued his curiosity and interest. But before he could respond, Bakari interjected, “Invite lady to stay for breakfast? Or tea?”

Another wave of annoyance washed over Philip. What on earth was the matter with him? He might have developed a few rough edges during his time away from polite Society, but he did hold a few social graces. Unfortunately, something about Miss Chilton-Grizedale clearly did not bode well for him recalling any of his manners.

“Forgive me,” he said. “May I interest you in something to eat? Or tea, perhaps?”

“No, thank you.” Her gaze swept over his attire. “How long before you are ready to depart?”

Depart? Oh, yes. The crates. The stone. The curse. His life with Lady Sarah. “I need a few moments to collect my journals.”

“And to change into some proper attire.”

He folded his arms across his chest. “I must say, I am growing weary of these repeated comments on my clothing. Nor do I particularly care to be on the receiving end of such a peremptory order.”

She raised her brows. “Peremptory order? I prefer to call it a strong suggestion.”

“Yes, I’m certain you do. And there is nothing wrong with what I am wearing.”

“Perhaps if you were tramping about in the desert, or along the Nile. You just admitted that you lack knowledge of modern human behavior. I, however, am something of an expert on the subject. Pray believe me when I tell you that your present attire is unacceptable for going out-of-doors.” She pursed her lips into a prim line. “It is also unacceptable for receiving guests. All in all, it is simply unacceptable.”

Philip turned to Bakari. “Do I look unacceptable?”

Bakari merely harrumphed and strode from the foyer in an altogether unhelpful manner. Philip swiveled his attention back to Miss Chilton-Grizedale. “If you think I’m going to truss myself up like a goose in form-fitting, fussy, dandified clothes just to look ‘acceptable’ to strangers I care nothing about, you’re sadly mistaken.”

“The members of Society, whether you are personally acquainted with them or not, are your peers, Lord Greybourne, not strangers. Such august company lends one respectability. How can you take that so lightly?”

“And how can you take it so seriously?”

Her chin lifted a notch. “Perhaps because, as a woman who must depend upon herself for her livelihood, my respectability is of the utmost importance to me-and is something I take very seriously. Lady Sarah is not a stranger. Nor is your sister, whom I’ve heard so much about. Are you saying that you care nothing for them?”

“Catherine would not be so shallow as to condemn me because I’m not clad in the latest fashion.”

Bright red stained her cheeks at his arch observation. “But like it or not, your behavior will reflect upon both your fiancee and your sister, not to mention your father. If you won’t think of your own reputation, think of theirs.” Her brows lifted. “Or is a world adventurer such as yourself too selfish to do so?”

Annoyance flooded him at her words. Damn irritating woman. Even more so because he couldn’t deny she had a valid point. Now that he was back in the confining restraints of “civilization” his actions would reflect on others. For ten years he hadn’t had to think about anyone except himself. His departure from England had marked the first time in his life he’d been able to say and do anything he damn well felt like saying or doing, without the censure of Society’s-or Father’s-glare beating down upon him. It was a freedom he’d reveled in, and one he did not relish curtailing in any way. But he’d rather suffer a cobra bite than do anything to hurt Catherine.

“I’ll change my clothing,” he said, unable to keep the snarl from his voice.

She shot him a satisfied-no, a smug-smile that all but screamed, Of