Page 25 of The Butler and the Bluestocking
At the bottom of the stairs, Crewe stood ready with a heavy woolen cloak that Susana had trimmed in soft white fur.
“The evening is quite cool my lady.”
“Thank you, Crewe. You are most thoughtful.”
He opened the door and escorted her along the walk and into the carriage.
The coach door closed behind her as she sat, and the equipage began to move before she realized she was not alone.
“You!”
Malcolm gave a nod. “Good evening, Lady Bess.”
Beside him a stern-faced maid dipped her head. “My Lady.”
“Do not mind Mrs. Toven’s presence. My brother insisted she accompany us in the coach to observe the proprieties.”
“That was very thoughtful of the earl.” Bess’ mind raced, trying to decide what, if anything, to do.
She could stop the coach. All she needed to do was rap on the roof.
He watched her closely.
But then I will never meet Nedhelm, and I will miss what I hope will be a lively discussion on antiquarian topics. Why should I spoil my evening just because Professor Marr is so rude as to imagine he can escort me?
“I gather you remained in the carriage because you knew I would not go with you if I had any choice in the matter,” Bess remarked.
His mouth curled in what might be a smile.
That dear mouth; she recalled their kiss then frowned.I would do well to recall nothing pleasant of this man. He deceived me and placed my family at risk.
“I am sorry if my presence displeases you,” Malcolm said. “But Nedhelm invited me as well. He is a good friend, and refusing would have been excessively rude. Besides, I wanted to see you to apologize for deceiving you and your family.”
“Well, I’ve no wish to see you and care nothing for yourpro formaapologies.”
“You have mentioned the first on at least two occasions. As for my apologies, they are most sincere and not at allpro forma. I deeply regret hurting you.”
“Did you arrange for this invitation?”
He nodded once. “I won’t deceive you ever again, Bess.”
“Please do not use my name in so familiar a manner.” Her name on his lips reminded her of heaven, so she sternly admonished herself to think of Professor Malcolm Kentigern Marr as the devil personified. A temptation that must be resisted at all costs. “If you must, address me as Lady Elizabeth.
“But you hate being called Elizabeth.”
The name was the perfect way to keep in mind that she wished to dislike him just as much as she despised her full name. “Nonetheless, I’ve no wish to give anyone the impression that I have been at all close to you.”
“As you wish, my lady.” He settled back against the squabs and turned his head to look out the window.
The journey was short. She preceded him from the coach, preferring the assistance of the coachman.
The door of the house opened before she could lift the knocker.
“Yes?” Said the very superior personage on the other side of the lintel.
“Lady Elizabeth Bigglesworth.” She identified herself and handed the man her invitation.
“And Mr. Malcolm Marr.” The words came over her shoulder.
