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smile upon his benefactress as she straightened from her task. "I told you she was pretty, didn't I?"
Julian watched Miss Clarke's reaction to Peter's words and was surprised and pleased to note that she did not blush or simper, but rather assumed a patient, tolerant expression of neutrality. By this lack of consciousness on Miss Clarke's part, he was led to hope that her affections were not irretrievably engaged or that her ambitions were not depending upon Peter's partiality. Because of this, Julian felt safe in expressing his appreciation to her in rather warmer terms than he had at first dared. "I thanked your parents, Miss Clarke. But it seems as though I'm more in your debt than anyone's. I thank you, too, most of all."
Miss Clarke modestly nodded her acceptance of Julian's gratitude.
"You'll be even more in debt to her after she's nursed me all the way to Hampshire!" said Peter.
Julian felt his good humour severely tried at the thought of the possible complications which might occur if Miss Clarke continued to remain in Peter's company. And for some reason he found the idea of her close proximity in the carriage rather unsettling to his own comfort, too. It must be the boundless enthusiasm she exuded, and that damned loose bit of hair she kept tucking behind her ear!
But besides all that, Julian was nettled to discover that Peter had engaged Miss Clarke to serve as nurse on the journey without first conferring with him. Ruthlessly and coolly, he executed his initial thrust. "Lord, with all this indebtedness floating about, perhaps we ought to pay Miss Clarke for her exertions! It hardly seems fair to wrest her from her snug home in Kent and entrap her in a drafty carriage for two days without some restitution being made. What do you say, Miss Clarke? Will you allow me to pay you?"
"Oh, Lord! Now you've done it, Julian!" said Peter, rolling his eyes.
Undeterred, Julian cocked a brow, saying, "What can you mean, Peter?" But no explanation was necessary. Even if he hadn't already known that he'd succeeded in doing exactly what he'd set out to do— discomposing Miss Clarke—one look at the young woman made the matter sufficiently clear.
After blinking once or twice, as if she hadn't heard Julian correctly, Lilith Clarke's dark eyes met his with unflinching resolve. "You are all kindness to thank me, my lord, but I've only done as anyone would do for another human being. As for restitution, whatever contribution you wish to give to Mr. Hobbs, the chief patron and proprietor of the nearby hospice which houses so many of our wounded soldiers, would certainly be welcome. But I will not accept anything from you."
Despite the soft cadence of her pleasant voice and the serene composure of her features, it was obvious to Julian that Miss Clarke was piqued. Eyes did not spark and crackle like a kindled fire without that fire being stoked. And her annoyance was justified, for he'd known very well that he'd offend her if he offered her money. He knew instinctively that she'd not want to be paid for nursing Peter, but rather drew satisfaction from the humanitarian nature of her duties. That realization was probably what had goaded him into being so damned vulgar! He mistrusted such generosity of spirit. It stirred up memories and feelings he'd as soon forget.
"I beg your pardon, Miss Clarke." Julian dutifully began his apology. "I only wished in some way to show my appreciation." Besides, if he paid her, he wouldn't have to be personally beholden to her. To make his apology more acceptable, Julian resorted to a method of persuasion which had always served him well. He smiled. And if the tattle-tongues who carried gossip about London could be believed, there was nary a woman in England who could resist one of Julian's rare smiles. Humility demanded that he did not truly believe such an exaggeration, but he thought it worth a try.
"Certainly, my Lord Ashton," she said graciously, "you are forgiven." Yet despite, her words, and though