His mother had always said he had an overly protective streak in him, whether it was mending the wing of a wounded bird when he’d been a boy, providing employment to a former crewman, or rescuing a wayward girl he’d only just met on the street.
If he were anyone else, he would drive her to a hotel, give her a few pounds, and turn his back, never to see her again. But in spite of the fact that he’d known her less than two hours, he already felt a connection to her.
Even if he hadn’t felt anything, he couldn’t simply abandon her to her fate. She was far too pretty and much too naive to be allowed to wander around on her own. Who knew what kind of unscrupulous blackguards she might encounter in a public hotel? With no one to protect her, she would be easy prey; a tasty morsel any healthy male would find hard to resist.
And what about him?
Well, he wouldn’t mind having her around for a few days, just long enough for her teacher friend to return from the country. Then he could send her on her way, his conscience clear.
Until then, she might be exactly the diversion he needed. She was certainly far more entertaining than sitting in his office reading letters from his steward about the pond that was being dredged at Lynd Park, the estate Peter had left him in Lancashire. A week with a pretty little houseguest sounded quite appealing.
As for her reputation, she was a governess, a woman who by virtue of her employment was considered neither a proper lady nor a servant; instead, she dwelled somewhere in the nebulous gray area between. Personally, he didn’t give a hang about any talk her stay might elicit, but he supposed she might. Which was why he’d already sent a note to his aunt. He supposed he could ask Aunt Felicity to let Emma stay with her, but he was ninety-nine percent certain of her answer.
“Have a girl with whom I am not acquainted live in my house? Do not be absurd, Dominic. You know how I loathe having people stay in my home. The town house is far too small for guests. We’d be quite in each other’s way. And you know I cannot be put to the expense of feeding anyone but myself and the servants.”
Aunt Felicity, a widow of many years, was forever complaining about the miserly jointure left to her by her late husband. “It barely keeps me in candles, let alone proper firewood for the grates.”
Of course, she never seemed to count the gifts of food and fuel and sundries that Peter, and now he himself, sent around to her town house on a regular basis. And while she would likely refuse to entertain guests at her own house, he strongly suspected she would be pleased to take up residence at Lyndhurst House for a few days. In fact, he was sure she would relish a chance to set up court in one of the largest guest bedchambers and pass the week plaguing his servants with demands.
Nick met Emma’s gaze again, watching the changing expressions on her face as she mulled over his suggestion.
“Stay with you?” she repeated with skeptical amazement. “That is out of the question, my lord.”
“I fail to see why,” he stated in a bluff voice. “You need a place to stay for a few days, and I have a house with more than ample room.”
Carefully, Emma set her teacup aside and tried to decide how best to answer. “Well, yes, I can see that your home is most comfortably appointed”—for a house that isn’t a castle, she added to herself—“but the size of your establishment is hardly the issue.”
“Then what is? If it’s appearances you’re concerned about,” he went on before she could elaborate, “you need not be. I told you, I’ve sent a note round to my aunt. I am sure if I ask her, she’ll be only too happy to lend you her countenance.”
“Oh, your aunt, you say? Still, it simply isn’t possible.”
Yet even as the words left her mouth, she found herself wondering why it wasn’t. He was a stranger, true, but so far he’d been nothing but generous and kind, aiding her when others might have either turned their backs or taken advantage. She supposed it was foolhardy to trust a man she barely knew and yet, crazy as it might seem, she sensed she could. But to live in his house, even with his aunt there to act as chaperone? The notion was as shocking and dangerous as it was absurd.
Yet the more she considered the idea, the more she found herself warming to it. Staying here with him—and his aunt, she reminded herself—meant she could remain in London. And if she were in London, then surely she would be able to explore the city exactly as she’d planned.
Not only that, but she would be doing so with complete anonymity. No one, not the duchess or the ambassador or even her brother, would have any way of knowing she was staying with Lord Lyndhurst. As for being seen around Town, well, she wasn’t acquainted with anyone in London, and no one searching for her would ever expect to find her living as a penniless, unemployed governess in the town house of a newly made earl.