Somersby raised his bottle in their direction. “Young ladies. Can’t live with ’em, can’t live without ’em, am I right, gents?” He swallowed an unhealthy amount of whiskey and then slumped over the table, propping his chin on a deck of cards.
“Somersby’s drowning his sorrows,” said Dane. “His latest opera singer jilted him for a marquess.”
“Think I’ll do some drowning myself.” Dex finished his brandy and the waiter quickly poured him another.
Dane joined him in another drink. “You probably didn’t explain yourself to Miss Crewe, you just grunted and attempted to stuff her in your carriage.”
“I did try to explain myself.” Though he hadn’t done a very good job of it. Silence was a habit he’d learned in the hospital that became more and more difficult to break. It was the protective shroud he wrapped around himself, the invisible armor he wore. “She mistook me for a gentleman sent by a brothel keeper to take her as his mistress.”
“Then I’m glad she attacked you.”
“She fought valiantly, if ineffectually.” He shuddered. “If I hadn’t arrived in time and she’d fallen into the clutches of the brothel madam...”
“But you did. And she’s safe now.”
“She’s at my house. I can’t return until I find a suitable chaperone. I was supposed to be halfway to Drakefell by now. I’m stuck in London instead. I was thinking of asking my aunt Glynis to chaperone Miss Crewe. She used to make me quake in my half boots when I was a child. I promised Lieutenant Crewe that I would see his daughter safely settled and I damn well will.”
“You mean to find her a husband?”
“I suppose that’s the usual meaning of seeing a young lady settled.” He tried to imagine Miss Crewe on the marriage mart, viewing every suitor with mistrust, all raised fists, fiery curls, and flashing eyes. “Although she’s not exactly your typical docile debutante.”
“What I don’t understand is how she escaped your attention for so many years.”
“She took a position as secretary and companion to Lady Claridge, the celebrated authoress. They remained sequestered at an estate in Cornwall until Lady Claridge died and her nephew inherited the house and was, I gather, attempting to inherit Miss Crewe, as well. She fled Cornwall with only the clothes on her back and a few family keepsakes. She’s been fending for herself ever since.”
He was the worst guardian in the world. He’d failed her miserably. Small wonder the girl had taken one look at him and run for her life. She was wary, and understandably so. While he’d been searching for her, she’d been accosted by a reprobate, forced to flee at midnight, and propositioned by a bawd. Fury tensed his body into hard knots. He’d make certain the finishing school mistress, Lord Claridge, and the boarding house owner and her sister received their just rewards.
“What’s she like? Other than sharp of tooth and nail.”
“Sharp of everything. A pointy little chin, razor wit, talks non-stop. Just turned eighteen. Redheaded. Freckles. A blur of motion. She doesn’t trust me fully yet. I’ll have to convince her of my respectability and good intentions if I want to escape that sharp pencil and tongue of hers.”
She put on a brave face with her jokes and her good-natured chatter, but she wasn’t the same innocent, trusting girl who had written those letters to her father. Life had taught her hard lessons.
“I would offer my wife as a chaperone,” said Dane, “but we’re going on holiday next week. Perhaps one of the other ladies in our group?”
“No offense, but I don’t think they’re stern and unimpeachableenough. If I recall, your Sandrine was chaperoned by two elderly ladies whose permissiveness resulted in all manner of mischief.”
“Ah, I do recall,” Dane said fondly. “Bless their inattentiveness.”
“I’m certainly not allowing my ward to sneak out and attend masked balls and meet the likes of you in hedge mazes.”
“You’d better trim away any rose trellises near her window, then. I’m told that’s how Sandrine made her escape.”
“Good God.”
“And definitely don’t allow her to join the Pink Ladies.”
“Are those ladies still terrorizing society?”
“Afraid so.”
“I’m her guardian,” Dex growled. “She will not be debauched in pleasure gardens on my watch.”
“Even if she freely chooses debauchery?”
“She’s my responsibility. I swore to her father I would see her safely and comfortably settled. She’ll marry a worthy man within the year.”
He would see to it that no one ever made her eyes cloud over, or her shoulders tremble ever again. Life had thrown her cruel twists and turns, but from this moment forth she would be safe and protected.