is Devonshire, Osbourne, not London.’ Mrs Wilson obviously shared her scepticism.
‘Even so …’
‘I am sure I shall be perfectly safe, Lord Thorne.’ Elizabeth managed to keep her tone suitably demure—at the same time glaring her displeasure at him from beneath lowered lashes.
A glare he met by raising one mocking brow. ‘Perhaps I should stroll outside with Miss Thompson, Aunt?’ he suggested mildly. ‘I can as easily smoke my cigar out there as in here.’
‘I could always accompany Betsy,’ Letitia offered with obvious nervousness.
‘I fear that would only place you both in danger, dear Letitia,’ the earl dismissed kindly.
Mrs Wilson frowned her concern. ‘You seriously think there is danger in Betsy going outside alone at night here?’
Lord Thorne shrugged those broad shoulders. ‘I doubt the smuggling in the area is any less rife now than it has been for several years past.’
Elizabeth had been rendered uncharacteristically dumbstruck by the earl’s suggestion that he accompany her on her walk outside, but now she gaped at him. ‘Smuggling?’
Deep brown eyes regarded her with mocking amusement as he gave an inclination of his head. ‘Still a very lucrative, though totally illegal trade in Devonshire, I believe. One that I am sure the gentlemen involved would prefer not to be interrupted by a young woman walking her dog.’
‘I had not thought of that.’ Mrs Wilson nodded briskly. ‘Perhaps you should accompany Betsy, Osbourne …’
‘Betsy’ could have screamed with the frustration of being discussed as if she had no will or mind of her own. Which, of course, as Betsy Thompson, companion to Mrs Wilson’s pampered and much-loved dog, she did not …
‘Unless Betsy believes it improper to venture outside alone with me?’ the earl asked huskily.
Elizabeth’s mouth tightened as she looked up into his rakishly handsome face, knowing that he was certainly not above mocking her now that his appetite for his dinner had been satisfied. ‘You—’
‘That is as ridiculous as the suggestion that the maid should not tidy your bedchamber, Osbourne,’ Mrs Wilson dismissed impatiently.
Placing Elizabeth firmly in the position of lowly servant, a role she was finding it increasingly difficult to maintain when in the company of the rapidly recovering Nathaniel Thorne …
‘How long has it been since you acquired the name of Betsy?’
The young lady striding determinedly at Nathaniel’s side on the moonlit pathway that ran along the cliff-top now stumbled slightly at the unexpectedness of his question.
That she was furious at his intervention earlier was obvious, considering the frosty silence with which she had treated him since her return from collecting her black-velvet pelisse from her bedchamber. She had taken Hector’s leash from the waiting footman and stalked outside without so much as a glance in Nathaniel’s direction.
He had followed at a more leisurely pace, enjoying his cigar at least as he did so, his much longer strides enabling him to reach her side within seconds. From her continued silence, and the subsequent glance down at her resolutely averted features as they walked along side by side, he realised she had no intention of even acknowledging his presence unless provoked into doing so.
Which, unless Nathaniel was mistaken, he had effectively just done …
She looked up at him sharply in the moonlight. ‘What do you mean?’
It was a clear spring evening, warm enough that Nathaniel had no need of an outer coat, with not a cloud to mask the brightness of the stars shining in the velvet-black sky overhead. Probably not the ideal night for smugglers to be abroad; Nathaniel believed they usually preferred a few clouds to cover the light of the moon and so mask their movements.
In which case, it should have been pleasant to walk in the moonlight with a young and desirable woman and the happy little white dog trotting ahead of them. Instead it had so far been a silent battle of wills between them.
He sighed. ‘I have noticed that you seem to flinch whenever my aunt—or indeed, anyone else—addresses you as such.’
‘You are mistaken, my lord—’
‘I think not,’ he interrupted firmly; his patience with this young woman was not limitless.
Elizabeth glanced up at him warily, knowing that she had seriously underestimated him, that his insight now showed that there was far more to this gentleman than the affectionate nephew he was to Mrs Wilson, or the flirtatious friend of the scandalous Lord Faulkner who had attempted to make love to her this afternoon.
‘Your lengthy silence betrays your need to think of a suitable explanation for your behaviour,’ Nathaniel said quietly.
She drew in a determined breath. ‘You need only question your aunt to receive that explanation, my lord,’ she replied lightly as she continued to walk along the narrow path.
‘Which, for obvious reasons, I am not about to do!’
No, it really would not do for the Earl of Osbourne to show such an interest in the young lady who was companion to his aunt’s dog! ‘I assure you there is no mystery to the explanation, my lord; Mrs Wilson did not consider my full name of Elizabeth to be suitable for a servant in her household,’ she explained airily.
So her name was really Elizabeth, Nathaniel mused as he continued to stroll along at her side. Yes, he believed the elegance of that name suited this contradictory young woman far better than Betsy. ‘Then in future I shall call you Elizabeth—’
‘I wish you would not!’ She had come to another halt in her agitation. ‘I—your aunt would not like it,’ she added with far less vehemence.
‘I do not recall saying that I intended asking my aunt’s permission,’ Nathaniel said drily.
Elizabeth frowned her displeasure. ‘You have not asked my permission, either, my lord—for if you had I should certainly have refused it.’
‘Perhaps when we are alone together like this—’
‘No, my lord!’
He shrugged. ‘I call Letitia by her given name.’
‘Because the two of you are related by marriage,’ she reasoned primly. ‘Whereas I am merely—’
‘—the young lady I kissed earlier today,’ Nathaniel completed her sentence huskily.
Deep blue eyes flashed up at him in the moonlight as she came to another halt on the pathway. ‘That you attempted to kiss, Lord Thorne! An attempt I believe I successfully routed,’ she added with smug satisfaction.
Her satisfaction alone would have been enough to prick Nathaniel’s masculine pride; that obvious air of smugness was taking things altogether too far!
Something that Elizabeth also became aware of as she began to back away from him warily. ‘You really cannot go around taking advantage
