"You don't understand. Please, just listen to me! Listen!" she cried, at her wit's end. "This is all a dreadful misunderstanding."
"Yes, and you've made it, Miss, if you think you can extort money from me for what happened at the inn. I never pressed my advances--"
"Please! Stop this now. You must listen!" She took a deep breath. "I can't believe this has happened to us either. The plain fact is that for good or ill, Dr. Sanderson, you're my new guardian. I'm Arabella Neville, your friend Peter Davison's step-sister."
At his look of complete disbelief and contempt she plunged on ahead. "I was rushing up to Town to see my step-brother before he left for India, when the coach accident occurred and you found me in the road. You took me to the inn and well, nursed me.
"By the time I got here to London, though, Peter had already set sail. He had told me someone would come to see me to explain everything, our solicitor. I made my way to Mr. Brown's offices, but he won't be back until the third of this month. His clerk gave me this address as the address of my new guardian.
"Since I had been travelling for days and was injured, and my brother's chambers had to be vacated, I thought it best if I came here to join this household rather than go all the way back home and wait. We could sort out the moving of my things and the closing of the property later.
"I was told that you were the heir to the entire Jerome fortune, and your servants said to call you Mr. Blake. I had no idea that you of all people lived here. You introduced yourself as Dr. Sanderson. How could I possibly have seen any connection?
"When I arrived, your servants were expecting me, and have been most kind. They never made any mention of your profession, or surname. All has been very pleasant here, with me mostly staying in my room tending to correspondence, or out shopping with the maid Betsey."
She sighed. "I'm sorry if you thought I was trying to continue our acquaintanceship in a way which is evidently so distasteful to you. Or that I am a woman out for personal gain from you in any way. I thank you for my comfortable chamber and hospitality. I don't wish to be a burden, but I don't know what to do now either. This is all shocking and most distressing for us both. But bitterness and recrimination will avail us nothing at this point. What has been doe cann't be undone, Dr. Sanderson. The plain fact is that my brother Peter has left you in charge of me, and we need to try to get along."
Blake shook his head, completely horrified at what she had told him. "Surely you realize that this is impossible. I remember you as a small child with a curly mop of hair, a little gipsy of a thing. How could Peter think a bachelor like myself could possibly cope with, with--"
He swept his hands downwards, indicating her person. "A young lady such as yourself. Every buck in the Ton is going to be after you for your face and fortune. That is assuming of course that I can cope with the demands of society. I am a bachelor, as you know, with a profession which does not permit me the luxury of a great deal of free time. I work all sorts of unpredictable hours, whenever people need me.
"You know of my work with the ladies at the special charitable clinic. To have you living here with me, even as a ward, will excite comment and suspicion whether we wish it to or not."
He began to pace in front of her like a caged panther. "No, it is out of the question. I shall speak to Mr. Brown about Peter's intentions, and see if other arrangements cannot be made."
"Surely you are not going to fob me off on someone even more of a stranger than you are?" she gasped.
"Better a stranger than the man who almost-"
Arabella shot him such a reproachful look that Blake did not dare finish the sentence.
"I shall never speak of it again if you do not," she said tremulously. "Now that we know what we are to each other, we must forget it ever happened. Please, I do not hold it against you so much as myself. You have taught me a great deal. You can see the dangers. You know what I nearly became."
She turned large, pleading blue eyes to his grim face. "Please, Dr. Sanderson, I need your protection, if only from myself. I need to know that when I marry I am making the right decision, a careful, reasoned choice. I know I've sinned. I want to be better. Surely you can understand that, you who sin yourself with your, um, friend, but always aspire to do better."
He scowled at her reminder of his unguarded actions and his resultant candor at the inn. "So we are to make a pact of celibacy then," he laughed bitterly, "you and I? After we've pleasured each other? So nearly become lovers in every way? The idea is mad."