His Not So Sensible Miss (A Gentleman's Guide to Once Upon a Time - Book 3) (2 page)

“
For some reason I believe
you, though I don’t even know you.” She glanced toward the cottage.
“But, what if someone should learn?”

“
Then they’d also know we
were in the barn alone, which is just as condemning. If am going to
be accused of ruining a young lady, I prefer it be in a warm, cozy
cottage instead of a wet, leaking barn.” He grinned down at her. “I
do have a reputation to consider.”

* * *

“
Very well,” Emily
capitulated. He had a point and she was growing cold in her damp
clothing.

Dillon grinned and grabbed her hand.
Together they ran through the pouring rain until they reached the
shelter of the small overhang. He quickly unlocked the door and
ushered Emily inside the dry alcove where he removed her cloak and
hung it on a peg to dry. She followed him into a kitchen and he lit
a few candles. It was very neat and clean for being vacant. Emily
stood inside the door as Dillon lit the stove, put water on to boil
and removed two cups and a teapot from the cupboard. He reached
into another cupboard and retrieved a sugar bowl before producing
two spoons.

“
There’s no milk.” He smiled
apologetically.

“
It isn’t as though you were
planning on entertaining.” She couldn’t wait to have a nice hot cup
of tea. “Besides, I don’t take milk in my tea.”

His shoulders relaxed, as if waiting
for her to complain. Perhaps where he worked he was used to people
becoming upset if they didn’t get what they wanted.

“
Let’s go sit by the fire
while we wait for the water to boil.” Dillon picked up a candle and
crossed through a dining room and into a foyer before coming to a
lovely parlor. He lit a few lamps before he bent to light the
kindling. Soon flames licked the logs. Drawn by its warmth, Emily
found herself standing next to Dillon, attempting to get warm and
dry out her moist clothing. Her cloak had been soaked but luckily
her dress was only damp. Her feet were another matter. No doubt her
stockings and shoes were ruined. That made two pairs of stockings
destroyed in one day and it wasn’t even dinnertime yet.

“
Who owns this
cottage?”

“
Chambers.”

Emily nodded her head in understanding.
“I didn’t think their land extended this far.”

“
It doesn’t.” Dillon turned
to her. “Their son bought this cottage and land for himself as a
place to hide away.”

What would a gentleman of
the
ton
want with
a cottage so far away from everything else? From what she
understood, hunting lodges were grander than this, and one couldn’t
have too many guests visiting. If her estimation was correct, there
was but one other room on this floor, which was probably a library
or office. The second couldn’t hold more than four
bedrooms.

“
Are you sure he wouldn’t
mind us being here?”

“
I am certain he would
not.”

Dillon seemed confident and Emily
relaxed. He probably knew the son well enough since he was Dillon’s
employer.

“
I’ll check on the tea.” He
left her alone and Emily turned to study the room. This was the
type of house she had always wanted. This room especially, with its
pale blue walls and dark blue and deep green upholstery. It
reminded her much of the home she shared with her father and his
things would fit in here nicely. Would Chambers one day be willing
to sell, if she could come up with funds? Of late she had thought
much about her future. She wasn’t getting any younger and couldn’t
remain with her guardian forever.

* * *

Dillon quietly whistled in the kitchen
while he prepared the tea. He didn’t want her to know who he was
just yet. If she learned he wasn’t a common laborer, her attitude
may change. A number of young ladies would use this opportunity to
be ruined and force marriage. Emily didn’t strike him as that type
and he liked to believe he was a good judge of character, even from
a brief meeting. He wanted her to like him for who he was and not
because he was the heir to a fortune.

He placed the pot and cups on a tray.
Had he known he would have such a lovely guest, he would have
arranged for cakes as well. Unfortunately the pantry was not yet
stocked with anything beyond the basic staples. Besides, it would
take too long to prepare anything delicious for her, if he even
knew how. Maybe next time and Dillon certainly planned on there
being another time. She was too lovely by half to just let
disappear from his life. The question was, who was she?

I wonder what Marius would
think if I wrote and asked for recipes?
Dillon quickly dismissed the idea. Such a request would have
Marius on his door in a heartbeat wanting to know why he had a
sudden interest in cooking. Dillon wanted no intrusions in his life
right now, even if it was his best friend.

He carried the tray through the dining
room and paused at the doorway to the parlor. Emily wore a light
yellow riding habit, which fitted her form nicely. It was what he
had imagined. She was voluptuous with well-rounded hips. Some
people might call her plump but Dillon found her shape most
desirous. She would be soft everywhere and a man would be very
comfortable with her in his arms.

He placed the tray on the table between
two chairs in front of the fire. The room was beginning to warm and
dampness no longer lingered in the air. “Please, have a
seat.”

Emily settled into one of the chairs
and glanced toward the teapot. “Would you like for me to
pour?”

“
Thank you.” He took the
opposite seat. Dillon couldn’t believe his good fortune in finding
her in his barn. He no longer cared that the storm raged outside,
nor did he care that the roof would have to go yet another day. He
didn’t want to be anywhere but where he was at this very
moment.

“
I don’t recall seeing you
around here before.” Dillon took a sip of the tea.

“
I’m visiting my aunt and
uncle. Aunt Beatrice was my mother’s sister and I promised to spend
time with them until I journeyed onto London.”

Dillon digested this bit of
information. “Aunt Beatrice wouldn’t be Mrs. Klintonham, would
she?

Emily brightened. “Why, yes. Do you
know her?”

“
I do, and her husband,
George.”

“
Have you always lived in
this parish?”

“
My entire life.” He placed
his cup back in the saucer and stretched his legs toward the fire.
“Where are you from?”

“
Near Oxford.” A soft smile
came to her lips as if she were recalling a sweet
memory.

“
Are your parents traveling
with you?”

Emily took a sip of her tea and when
she lowered the cup, only sadness remained. Dillon immediately
wanted to take back his question.

“
No. My parents are
deceased.”

“
I am sorry.” He never knew
what to say at times like this. “Do you have any other family,
besides Mr. and Mrs. Klintonham?”
More
specifically, do you have a husband or betrothed?
That is was the question he most wanted answered
but didn’t know how to come out and ask.

“
No, and I don’t get to
visit them as much as I like.” She sighed and placed her cup into
the saucer.

“
I don’t understand.” Dillon
straightened. “If the Klintohams are your only family, why don’t
you live with them?”

“
My father named someone
else as my guardian.”

“
And he is taking you to
London, for the Season?” Emily was older than most debutants but he
was certain he would have remembered her had he seen her during
earlier seasons. Even if she hadn’t been presented, there were
still other opportunities to meet young ladies.

“
My guardian’s daughter will
be presented. She is eighteen and insists I remain with her.” Emily
dismissed the idea with a wave of her hand. “Claresta would have me
believe that she fears the entire season and all it brings and
would have her one true friend by her side.”

“
You don’t believe her?”
Dillon quirked a smiled.

“
Claresta fears nothing and
is more comfortable with society than I could ever hope to be. I’m
afraid her thoughts are much like her father’s and they wish to see
me matched and wed.”

Ah ha, confirmation she was not even
betrothed. Relief flowed throw him. “Would that be so terrible?”
He’d need to find out who her guardian was so he could arrange to
meet her in London.

“
They don’t understand. I
don’t belong in society, regardless of who my guardian
is.”

Dillon sat forward, more intrigued each
moment. This was most peculiar. “Your guardian must feel otherwise
or he wouldn’t consider letting you enjoy the season as well.
Dillon lifted his cup to take another drink.

“
His Grace feels his being
my guardian is all the requirement I need.”

Dillon choked. “His Grace?”

All the color drained from her face.
Why had the question upset her?

* * *

Emily hadn’t meant for that information
to slip. If he knew she was in the duke’s household, Dillon would
believe her to be more than she was. “For some odd reason, my
father named the Duke of Ellings as my guardian. I had known His
Grace since I was a child. Still, I was shocked when Ellings was
named since there is certainly no blood relationship. But, as His
Grace stated, he admired my father and considered him a close
friend, nor was he surprised in the least as my father had
discussed it with him long ago.”

“
Who was your
father?”

“
You wouldn’t have known
him,” Emily insisted. “He died eight years ago.” She wasn’t about
to reveal that her father had been a Fellow at Oxford. Even though
it made her just as common as Dillon, her father, by way of
profession, was above that of a laborer and she didn’t want Dillon
to be discouraged by a class difference that didn’t exist. Of
course he would have to be interested in her for it to matter and
she dearly hoped this wasn’t the last time they would meet. Somehow
she must dispel any concerns he may have. She already let her
connection to Ellings slip, which could form false impressions and
she needed this man to understand that she, in truth, was of no
consequence.

“
He didn’t go into society?”
Dillon settled back in his chair and crossed his legs.

Emily laughed. “Never. There was no
purpose. Papa stayed in his own humbled abode, rarely leaving
except for his studies. He was a scholar, which was how he and
Ellings became close. Scholarly pursuits were the one thing they
shared.”

Emily finished her tea and turned the
subject away from herself. “Have you ever been to London during the
Season?”

“
On occasion,
why?”

“
I’m not sure what to expect
once Claresta goes into society and I’m not sure it is at all
pleasant.”

Dillon quirked his lips. “How could it
not be pleasant? The balls, theater, musicals, just to name a
few.”

“
They can’t be pleasant if
one does not belong.” Emily once again reminded him of her
station.

“
Emily,” Dillon sat forward.
“I believe you could belong anywhere.”

Her face heated at his compliment and
she looked down into her empty cup. “I have agreed only to
accompany her when her mother is not available. That is all. This
is not a season for me.” It was a perfectly suitable position for
one of her station. “When Claresta does marry, I’ll move on and
hopefully obtain a position as a governess in another
household.”

* * *

Dillon wished she’d reveal more about
herself, but she offered no clue to who her father was. The man was
a friend of Duke Ellings, so he had to be a member of society. Why
was Emily so reluctant to reveal anything about herself? His answer
came a moment later when he rose to add more wood on the fire. The
image in the mirror across the room reminded him of what he saw. He
still wore his old, worn work shirt and pants. They were far from
the fine clothing in his closet in London and at his father’s
estate. She saw him as a man beneath her station and instead of
flaunting her birth and treating him as a servant, she engaged him
in conversation as if they were in a drawing room in
London.

Perhaps her reluctance was no different
than his own desire not to reveal himself. He was hounded by young
ladies and their mothers for his fortune. Emily was probably
hounded by gentlemen who hoped to be connected to the duke. This
was probably her first opportunity to ever converse with someone
without titles or importance being in the way.

For a moment Dillon wondered if he
should reveal who he was. Perhaps she would be more forthcoming.
Yet, he didn’t want to do that either. No lady had taken the time
to get to know him for who he was and not the heir to wealth and
land. If she were willing to continue in a friendship with a
commoner, he would let her. If his assumed low birth became a
deterrent, then he would tell her the truth. For the moment though,
he simply enjoyed just being Emily and Dillon, with no expectations
from the world.