The Lady Pursues

Chapter Two (Part 1)

"Miss Crewe!" Ian called down the alleyway, but she wouldn't stop. "Miss Crewe!" He moved quickly after her. "Charity!"

She did stop then, turning to him with reddened cheeks and pursed lips. "So you do remember my name. I thought you'd forgot completely." Her eyes were damp and, though he had some idea why, he was not about to address it.

"The cart is back there," he said, shifting his eyes to her parcels. "Let me take—"

"I'm sure I can manage." She moved past him. "In fact, I can wait. Please go back and finish your... your debauchery."

He couldn't help a slight laugh. "I see you finally looked it up."

She whirled on him. "Do you find this funny?"

"Not really. We'd best get back."

"Don't change the subject!" She shrugged him off as he reached for her parcels again.

"We weren't on a subject."

"Yes, we were. It was the subject of debauchery. Yours and whatever her name is."

"You know very well it's Jenny."

"I don't know any such thing." She moved to the cart stiffly, chin high. He wondered if it would make things better or worse if he told her she sounded exactly like her mother.

He watched with what he was sure was the patience of a saint as she tried to hand herself up into the cart without letting go of her parcels until he finally turned her around and took them, putting them unceremoniously in the back before taking her by the waist and setting her on the bench.

"I could have done that myself." Her face was even redder now. "I wanted to hold them."

"They're fine where they are," he said tightly, moving around to hoist himself up, grip the reins, and start them off.

What did she expect, anyway? That he'd wait outside that dress shop for hours? And why shouldn't he kiss a pretty girl now and then? He was a man. He was a man who did the work of at least three men. Was he supposed to do nothing else but work? He was well aware he'd agreed to, even argued for, his current set of duties, but that didn't mean he didn't sometimes deserve a reward at the end of a long day. Kissing a pretty girl was actually poor compensation. Even Lord Crewe might forgive him a brief dalliance with Jenny Martin, if Charity chose to tell. And she well might.

He'd be lying if he said he didn't know why she was sniping at him and it was ludicrous. This girlish infatuation had gone on too long and seemed impossible to shake. He'd tried everything. He'd tried being kind, brotherly and, when that didn't work, avoiding her like the pox. Yet every time she saw him, she still had that terrifying look in her eyes, as if he were supposed to be some kind of paragon or literary hero. It was too much for a man to live up to and definitely more than a man could take.

He glanced to his side briefly, keeping his eyes on her bonnet. He dared not look lower, not since the winter when she... Well, things had changed. Two things, to be specific

He kept his eyes on her face. That seemed safe enough. She was still the same there, just a round-cheeked girl with more spirit than was good for her. She was still flushed. It would be rather fetching on her if she weren't so thin-lipped and hard-eyed. Perhaps it was just as well. There would be a lot less adoring gazes if she stayed angry. It would be easier on him to keep her that way.

Yet he didn't like it. "What's in the parcels?" he finally asked, unable to take the stony silence any longer.

She didn't answer.