‘I didn’t. I don’t.’ She managed to speak at last. ‘I had no idea…’
‘Miss Woodhill and I encountered each other yesterday,’ Dominic said, realising that the young lady was as surprised as he was and had not come to dun him. ‘Twice.’
‘Twice! Then you must tell me all about it.’
‘There is nothing to tell,’ Emma said, pulling herself together. ‘His lordship came on board the ship on which I travelled from India and we met a second time when my brother and I were dining at the hotel. I had no idea he would be there. Nor did I know who he was until now.’ She hoped he was convinced.
‘Oh, but that is good, don’t you see? We are connected already.’ Lucy turned to her brother. ‘Dominic, Miss Woodhill is applying for the post of companion. Do say you will agree.’
‘Miss Woodhill is a little young, Lucy dear,’ he murmured. ‘I am surprised the agency sent her. I asked for a mature lady, preferably one with a little experience of guiding young ladies.’
‘Dragons!’ said Lucy scornfully. ‘They would be as bad as Aunt Agatha. I don’t want to be hemmed in by dos and don’ts and lectures on etiquette and what is becoming to a young lady. And you know after I turned the last one away, they said they would not send any more.’
He smiled. ‘No, they said Miss Besthorpe was obviously spoiled and they would not wish anyone of sensibility on her. Which is not at all the same thing.’ He turned to Emma. ‘I beg your pardon, Miss Woodhill, I did not mean to imply…’
She had recovered sufficiently to smile. ‘That I was lacking in sensibility?’
‘Not at all. I was simply pointing out that my sister can be impossibly difficult to please.’
‘That’s not fair!’ Lucy cried. ‘If I had someone I liked I would be as biddable as you please. And I like Miss Woodhill.’
Emma smiled. ‘Thank you, Miss Besthorpe, but it is of little consequence what the agency thinks of my suitability. The decision is his lordship’s.’
’Touché!’ He laughed in delight. Here was no terrified underling, but a girl of spirit and he liked that. Not that Society would consider her as a suitable duenna for his sister. Lucy needed a strong hand. But their present situation was highly irregular, as everyone had been pointing out, ever since their parents had died within a few weeks of each other just over a year before; he was a bachelor and it was highly improper for Lucy to continue to live with him, either in town or at their country estate, though it wasn’t so important at Cavenham House.
Aunt Agatha had offered to take her, but Lucy had begged not to go and, as usual, Lucy had got her own way. She had not been boasting when she said she could wind him about her little finger.
When their fortunes began to take a turn for the better, he had promised her a Season and for that, they must observe the rules of Society, which meant Lucy must have a companion and chaperon, someone who would observe the proprieties and guide her in the correct behaviour, preferably someone of mature years. Miss Woodhill hardly fitted that description.
He paced the room, while the two girls watched him in silence. He ought to turn her away, letting her down as gently as possible, but it was true that Lucy had been very difficult to please and the agency was losing patience. There was the added complication that, because of Princess Charlotte’s wedding, everybody who was anybody would be in London this year, even those who had long ago retired to the country, and good servants would be hard to find.
He stopped pacing and turned towards Emma. ‘Please sit down, Miss Woodhill, and allow me continue the interview.’ He indicated one of the sofas and, as soon as she had taken her seat, sat opposite her, leaving Lucy to prowl about the room.
‘Now,’ he said, ignoring his sister. ‘Tell me all about yourself. Captain Greenaway told me you have lately become bereaved and I offer my condolences…’
‘Thank you, my lord. My father was employed as a Civil Servant.’ She had decided not to reveal that her father had been a soldier; it was too easy to verify the names of serving officers. ‘He died about seven months ago.’
‘I am sorry. Tell me why you decided to come to England.’
She hesitated only momentarily. ‘It is not easy for a lady to live alone in India, and I had my brother to think of. We thought it would be easier to find employment here. I had no idea it would be so difficult. There is so much prejudice…’
One well-defined brow lifted. ‘Prejudice or caution, Miss Woodhill?’
‘Both. Although my parents were English, I was born in India and lived all my life there until now; prospective employers seem to think it means I have lived like a savage. I can assure you, my lord, that British Society in Calcutta is every bit as civilised as that in London.’ It was no more than the truth, but she knew she was on shaky ground. It was not that she thought he was prejudiced but if he were to check on her story, he would discover that no one in Calcutta had heard of Miss Woodhill.
She stood up suddenly, unable to continue. ‘I am sorry to have taken your time, my lord.’
‘Sit down, Miss Woodhill. I have not finished.’
His voice was so authoritarian, she almost fell back into her seat.
‘Dominic, don’t bully,’ Lucy said. ‘You frighten Miss Woodhill.’
He smiled at Emma. ‘Do I frighten you?’
‘Not at all, my lord.’ Which was true. It was shame, not fright, which had made her want to run away.
‘Then let us continue. You are, how old?’
She stifled the retort that it was ungentlemanly to enquire a lady’s age; he had every right to ask and, as far as he was concerned, she was no lady. ‘Twenty-two.’
‘Twenty-two is very young for a chaperon, Miss Woodhill. Why, you are not above an age for needing one yourself.’
‘Oh, come, my lord, you flatter me. I am old enough to be independent and to have had some experience.’
‘And what form has that taken?’
This business of deception was more difficult than she had imagined, especially when her interrogator looked at her with such warm friendliness. She had to force herself to meet his gaze. ‘I was lady’s maid and companion to Miss Emma Mountforest.’
‘But that’s…’ Lucy began but Dominic held up his hand to silence her.
‘If you persist in interrupting, Lucy, I shall send you away.’ He turned back to Emma. ‘You have the same Christian name as Miss Mountforest.’
‘Yes, I was named for her.’ She and Teddy had decided not to change their given names because they might be uneasy with new ones and forget to answer to them. She opened her reticule and produced the reference she had written herself. ‘This is from Miss Mountforest.’
He took it but did not read it immediately, preferring to trust his own judgement about people, but the name of Miss Woodhill’s previous employer had astonished him. ‘Why did you leave her employ?’
Emma faltered. She had not realised how one untruth led to another and was beginning to wonder where it would end. It would be almost a relief if she were turned away, but then what else could she do? ‘Miss Mountforest had lately lost her own father and was going to live with friends. I don’t know where, but she said she would no longer be able to employ a personal maid.’
‘I see. And so you came to England to seek your fortune.’ He smiled suddenly and his whole face was lit with warmth. ‘You know, it is usually the other way about. People travel from this country to India to make their fortunes.’ He paused, watching her face. Why did he have the impression she was hiding something? It made him curious. ‘But perhaps not ladies.’
‘No,