Page 63

He pulled out a chair for her. "Is she? I daresay you'll be a smashing success, then."
She shot him a jaunty smile as she sat. "Smashing."
"Ah, yes. You must be the reason for the bouquets in the front hall."
She shrugged. "I'm surprised your mother didn't inform you of my presence. Or Belle. She has spoken about you a great deal."
His eyes narrowed as his heart sank. "You've become friendly with Belle?" He saw all his hopes for a flirtation with this girl going up in smoke.
"Oh, yes. She is quite the best friend I have ever had." She spooned some eggs on her plate and scrunched her nose. "I do hope these are not too cold."
"They'll warm them," he replied with a wave of his hand.
Henry took a hesitant bite. "They're just fine."
"What precisely has Belle told you about me?"
"That you're quite nice, of course, most of the time, that is, and that you are trying very hard to acquire a rake's reputation."
Ned choked on his toast.
"Are you all right? Would you like some more tea?"
"I'm fine," he gasped. "She told you that?"
"I thought it was exactly the sort of thing a sister might say about her brother."
"Indeed."
"I hope I have not dashed any of your plans to make a conquest of me," Henry said blithely. "Not that I think so highly of my beauty or countenance that I imagine everyone wants to make a conquest of me. I merely thought you might be thinking about it simply for reasons of convenience."
"Convenience?" he echoed blankly.
"Seeing as how I'm living right under your roof."
"I say, Miss Barrett—"
"Henry," she interjected. "Please call me Henry. Everybody does."
"Henry," he muttered. "Of course you would be called Henry."
"It suits me better than Henrietta, don't you think?"
"I rather think I do," he said with great feeling.
She took another bite of egg. "Your mother insists upon calling me Henrietta, but that is only because your father's name is Henry. But you were saying?"
He blinked. "I was?"
"Yes, you were. I believe you said, 'I say, Miss Barrett,' and then I interrupted you and told you to call me Henry."
He blinked again, trying to recover his train of thought. "Oh, yes. I believe I was about to ask you if anyone had ever told you that you are quite frank."
She laughed. "Oh, everyone."
"Somehow that does not surprise me."
"It never surprises me either. Dunford keeps telling me there are advantages to subtlety, but I've never been able to discern them." She immediately cursed herself for bringing him into the conversation. There was no one she wanted to talk about—or even think about—less.
"You know Dunford?"
She swallowed a piece of ham. "He's my guardian."
Ned had to cover his mouth with his napkin to keep from spitting out the tea he'd been sipping. "He's your what?"" he asked disbelievingly.
"I seem to be getting similar reactions across London," she said with a puzzled shake of her head. "I gather he is not what most people would deem suitable guardian material."
"That is certainly one way to describe the matter."
"He's a terrible rake, I hear."
"That is another way to describe it."
She leaned forward, her eyes sparkling devilishly silver. "Belle tells me that you are trying to establish the exact sort of reputation he has."
"Belle talks too much."
"Funny, he said the exact same thing."
"That doesn't surprise me in the least."
"Do you know what I think, Ned? I may call you Ned, mayn't I?"
His lips twitched. "Of course."
She shook her head. "I don't think you're going to be able to carry off the rake act."
"Really?" he drawled.
"Yes. You're trying very hard, I can see. And you did say 'really' with just the right note of condescension and bored civility one would expect from a rake."
"I'm glad to see I'm living up to your standards."
"Oh, but you're not!"
Ned started to wonder where he got the fortitude not to laugh. "Really?" he drawled again, in exactly the same awful tone.
Henry let out a chuckle. "Very good, my lord, but do you want to know why I do not think you could ever be a proper rake?"
He plunked his elbows down on the table and leaned forward. "You can see I'm waiting in desperate anticipation."
"You're too nice!" She said this with a flourish of her arm.
He sat back. "Is that a compliment?"
"To be sure, it is."
Ned's eyes twinkled. "I cannot express the depth of my relief."
"Frankly—and I believe we have already established the fact that I am usually frank—"
"Oh, indeed."
She shot him a vaguely annoyed look. "Frankly, I am beginning to find the dark and brooding type to be vastly overrated. I met several last night, and I think I shall contrive not to receive them today should they call."
"They'll be crushed, I'm sure."
Henry ignored him. "I'm going to endeavor to look for a nice man."
"Then I should be at the top of your list, shouldn't I?" Ned was surprised to discover he didn't half mind the idea.
She sipped nonchalantly at her tea. "We should never suit."
"Why is that?"
"Because, my lord, you don't want to be nice. You need time to get over your delusions of rakehood."