The Princess and the Peer(15)

Truly, the idea could not be more perfect, she thought. If she accepted his offer, she would be able to enjoy her week’s freedom and do all the things she was dying to do and see. And best of all, she would have a strong, capable escort at her side to accompany her on her adventures. For even she was no longer foolish enough to think she could go exploring on her own, not after what had happened that morning at the market.

In order for her plan to succeed though, she would have to accept his offer of help. But how could she, yet not appear forward by agreeing to his rather scandalous suggestion?

She lowered her gaze. “I appreciate your generous offer, my lord, but I would not wish to impose.”

“Perhaps not,” he remarked with a slight gruffness in his voice, “but I don’t see that you have much choice in the matter. Where else are you to go?”

Her eyes flew up to meet his, her brows knitting.

“My apologies if I seem unduly blunt,” he said, “but this is no time for missishness.”

Missishness? She was not missish!

“I am simply stating facts.” He drank the last of his tea before setting the cup aside. “And the facts are that you are without funds or lodgings at present and your friend isn’t expected back in the city for a week at least. I could put you up in a hotel, but that seems as bad an idea as you being on your own in Covent Gardens. We both saw firsthand how well that worked out this morning.”

“That,” she declared, “is extremely ungallant of you to mention. I can hardly be blamed for the actions of those thieves.”

He shrugged. “Ungallant or not, you have no business being out in the city alone. So let’s have no more debate on the matter. You need help and I am offering to provide it. Just for this week, of course,” he added, “until your friend returns from her journey.”

As if I would care to remain longer, she silently retorted.

Suddenly she wasn’t sure that she wanted his help at all, even if it meant having to leave London. And to think she’d been looking forward to exploring the city with him. Perhaps she ought to refuse his offer and go to the embassy after all. Only imagine how surprised he would be if she tossed his generosity back in his face.

But the very idea of being sent back to the estate stopped her cold. Even pride wasn’t enough to make her say the words that would set him back on his heels and end her acquaintance with him forever. She really did want to see the city in her own way and on her own terms, not from the inside of a royal coach. But was a smattering of such freedom worth residing in this man’s house? Pshaw. If only Mrs. Brown-Jones hadn’t been away visiting relations, none of this would be necessary.

“From your silence,” he stated, as if the decision were already made, “I presume you agree to my plan.”

Again, she struggled against the temptation to refuse him. But even as she considered her options one more time, an image of Duchess Weissmuller smiling cruelly at her while she rang a peal over her head convinced her that his suggestion was indeed the wisest course.

“If you are certain you can bear my company for a week, then yes, my lord. I accept.”

A faint smile crossed his mouth, his eyes twinkling with an irreverent light. “Oh, I believe I can endure the inconvenience, if you are able, Miss—?” He broke off, tilting his head at a quizzical angle. “I’ve only now realized that I know you simply as Emma. What pray is your surname?”

Whyte, she thought automatically, of the imperial and most majestic house of Whyte. But she wasn’t about to tell him her real last name any more than she planned to tell him she was a princess. Then again, she wondered a moment later, why should she not be honest about her name?

Quite naturally, he would assume her name was “White,” a common enough surname in English. Who would ever associate supposedly plain, ordinary Miss Emma White, unemployed governess and penniless houseguest, with Her Royal Highness, Princess Emmaline Adalia Marie Whyte of Rosewald? So why not tell him the truth? It would be far simpler for her to remember anyway.

“White,” she said. “Miss Emma White.”

He reached out and took her hand, raising it so his lips just barely brushed the top. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss White.”

A shiver tingled over her skin, her earlier irritation with him melting away. For a moment she lost herself in the beautiful smoky gray of his eyes. His hand tightened fractionally around hers before he released her.

Strangely disoriented, she withdrew her hand to her lap and looked away.

A short silence fell between them.

“Well, seeing that you are to stay the week,” he said, “why do we not get you properly settled? My housekeeper will find you a suitable bedchamber. After the morning you have had, I expect you would like to rest and refresh yourself.”