Page 10 of The Gentleman Was Right
His chest puffed out as if he were a knight ready to rescue a maiden from some dastardly evil. “You’re obviously in some sort of trouble. What sort of gentleman would I be if I didn’t offer assistance?”
During his childhood, he’d had little experience with honorable men. His father had been a wastrel, and his uncle had all but ignored him. After his father’s death, Sebastian had left Greydon Hall. With only his mother and sisters for company, Edward had missed his brother fiercely. He’d filled the void of being left behind by becoming useful and helpful and dependable. He’d become an honorable man in spite of a lack of examples.
Violet’s mouth closed and opened and then closed again.
“According to Mrs. Eggington, you’ve been delightful guests, and regardless of your reason for being here, I intend to help you.”
Isabelle stepped forward so she was shoulder to shoulder with Violet and spoke for the first time. “You don’t seem angry about the fact that we have been pretending to be kin.”
“Isabelle,” Violet warned.
“Why would I be angry? I have nothing to be angry about.” He didn’t mention that lately his energy was consumed by being dissatisfied with his gilded life, because that would make him seem ridiculous.
“Most men would be angry to find us here,” Isabelle informed him.
If that was true, most men were fools. It could not be clearer that Violet and Isabelle had not had malicious intent when they’d said they were his cousins.
He tried to sound patient when he said, “I promise you I’m not angry, and I will do whatever I can to help. If you explain your predicament, it will be easier for me to assist you.”
“We will leave as soon as our bags are packed,” Violet announced loudly, causing his heart rate to increase.
“And go where?” Isabelle put her hands on her hips. “We were nearly out of funds when we arrived, and we have made no plans. Where will we go next?”
“Stop,” Violet snapped at her sister. “We cannot remain here. You know we can’t.”
She was no easier to read now that her control was cracking. If she hadn’t been clinging to the hope they could remain, why had she invaded his bedchamber? Why hadn’t she left immediately?
“I assure you,” he said, offering his most charming smile, “you don’t need to leave. Maybe we could continue our discussion over tea.”
Without giving her a chance to argue, he ushered them both out of his bedchamber and down the stairs. He did not stop until they reached the sitting room, where he settled them next to each other and took the chair opposite.
“What can you tell me about the village?” he asked, hoping that the change of location and an innocuous question would help lower their defenses and convince them to trust him.
ChapterFour
Violet was regrettably familiar with the easy arrogance of a handsome man. Objectively speaking, her betrothed, Basil, was quite the specimen. Tall. Broad shouldered. Narrow hipped. Perfectly styled, thick brown hair. Lips that were somehow both soft and firm. She had been infatuated with him from their first meeting. Flattered by his interest, it hadn’t occurred to her that an attractive outer shell could mask all manner of character flaws.
Fortunately, she was no longer naïve.
Nor was she easily swayed by a handsome visage.
Experience had taught her to be wary, and yet she wasn’t blind. And apparently she wasn’t immune. She couldn’t deny that Edward was stunning. His dark golden curls. His startling green eyes. His smoothly muscled thighs. Combined, his features obliterated every notion of beauty she’d ever conceived.
Even more startling was that his beauty was inconsequential next to his seemingly earnest interest in helping them. It wasn’t his looks so much as his manner that had burrowed through her defenses and allowed him to escort her to tea. He exuded an aura of compassion and caring that she’d never witnessed in her life. Being the focus of his engaging, friendly smile was like basking in the warmth of the sun on a brisk day.
It made her weak. Foolish, even.
How else could she explain why she’d allowed him to herd her and Isabelle downstairs? She had let him ignore her desire to leave with hardly a complaint.
What was wrong with her?
She detested high handedness and men who did whatever they wished, and yet she wanted to give him her burdens and see if he could ease them. She wanted to keep conversing with him even though she knew she shouldn’t.
It was clear from his relentless questions and offers to help that he would not cease pestering her until she told him everything. Since she had no intention of telling him more than she already had, the only smart option was to exit the room and pack their bags, but she couldn’t convince her legs to stand.
It was almost inconceivable.
When had she taken leave of her senses?
