Page 58 of A Much Maligned Miss

“No, I was not trying to impress him,” she answered. “It was Effie and Violet. They seemed to think I made a rather poor jezebel, so I was trying to redeem myself in their eyes.”

“A poor…?” Gervaise looked rather startled.

“I fear they think I am not glamorous enough to be your harlot,” she admitted. “They can’t seem to understand what you see in me.”

“What I see in you,” he said thoughtfully, stroking his jaw with his thumb. Then abruptly asked, “Do you mind if I smoke?”

“No, of course not.” She sat patiently while he lit a cigarette.

“What do you say to our paying the good canon a visit sometime soon?” he asked casually, blowing out a plume of smoke.

“You mean Canon Petrie?” Caroline asked, straightening in surprise.

“Yes, I still have his card with his address in Shoreditch.”

“Well, he was a very sweet man,” Caroline answered cautiously. “But might that not prove a little…”

“A little what?”

“Well, awkward? I know he was thankfully too vague to ask after the precise nature of our acquaintance, but I don’t know how long we could count on his lack of curiosity. He might have to introduce us to his slipshod housekeeper and then what would we say?”

“Was she slipshod?” He gave his head a quick shake. “No, don’t tell me. I wish to stick to the matter at hand.”

“Which is?”

“Well,” he said, clearing his throat, “precisely this issue. We two have stumbled into some undefined area, and I think we should make the effort to clear things up.”

Caroline regarded him in some puzzlement. “I don’t think I follow your meaning at all. What is undefined?”

“You said it yourself, the precise nature of our relationship.”

Her frown cleared. “But there is no confusion about that at all! I am your mistress.”

Gervaise regarded her silently for a moment and Caroline felt her nerve unravel slightly. Had he changed his mind? Did he no longer…?

“You are being deliberately obtuse, my dear Miss Halperston,” he said testily. “There most certainly is confusion,” he insisted. “A good deal of it abounds.”

“With whom?” she asked in confusion.

“My uncle for one. And his staff.”

“Oh, well…” She cleared her throat. “In truth they scarcely got a good look at me, Gervaise. I am quite sure that if you passed it off as some little joke, it would not take too much effort on your behalf to persuade them that no such marriage exists.”

Gervaise drew himself up. “An earl does not make jokes about the matter of his countess,” he replied coldly. “There is also the matter of The Red Lion inn. Do you pretend to forget I identified you there as my wife?”

She gazed at him blankly. “Gervaise, do you expect me to believe that gentlemen do not travel at times with questionable companions they identify as their wives for convenience’s sake? For I tell you now, I will not believe it. I may have led a sheltered life, but I am not a fool.”

“Questionable companions?” he repeated, sounding irritated. “Is that really how you wish to view yourself?”

“Why not? I am not offended by the term in the least.”

“Well, I am offended!”

“Why?” she asked pointedly.

“Because,” he replied, “it is an affront to both my dignity and reputation.”

She snorted. “And in any case, how would you ‘clear things up’ or even want to? I am at a complete loss to understand you!”