Free Grace Gibson by The Lost Heir of Devonshire Page B

find him here among my friends. All this is very bad, but the most pressing fact of which I must make you aware is that the Marquis of Denley is a known seducer!”
    Mary paused. “I see. I thank you for the warning, and I assure you, that I will have a care for my reputation when he is among us.”
    Neville sat back. “I fear you do not see, Miss Mary. His being among you is enough to see your reputation damaged, perhaps irreparably.”
    She stared at him. “If what you say is true, my reputation is already damaged irreparably , and I see nothing more to do about it. But really, Mr. Neville, I become quite uncomfortable discussing my virtue with you. It is not proper in the least.”
    He took her hands again. “Indeed, it is not proper, and for that reason alone, I hesitated to come to you. But my regard for you is such…is such that I determined to exert myself in spite of the danger that I would offend you. But you are very much mistaken that there is nothing more to do about it. I flatter myself that I alone know of your…acquaintance…with a man of such ilk. For that, we are fortunate. But what remains is for you to put a word in your father’s ear so that such a person should never be allowed to visit.”
    It was Mary’s turn to stand very abruptly. “Mr. Neville, I thank you for your exertions, but I take leave to tell you that indeed you have offended me! I have listened to you discuss my virtue and muddy the character of my father’s friend, and I have borne with you placing me under obligation to you for your silence about my association with a town rake. But to suggest that my father must be led like a milk cow is most insulting!”
    Mr. Neville stood and bowed stiffly. “Then I beg your pardon, Miss Fanley, for importuning you.”
    Mary did not grace this with any response. She swept out of the room and into the hallway, grabbed her shawl and went out of doors for a long and angry walk.
    The road to the village took her past fields now golden, through copses of copper coloured leaves, and along the hedgerows where she and Will had played hide-and-seek as children. She allowed that she had been imposed upon by Mr. Oscar Neville, that she had been swayed by his charms and enamoured of his compliments. She also allowed that, for all the niceties of a gentleman’s tender attentions, she would much rather cross swords with Lord Robert of Denley, for he was not duplicitous and she could never accuse him of flattery.
    Truly, when she put one up against the other, Mr. Neville had revealed himself to be all polish and no substance, whereas Lord Robert was slowly becoming a substantial point of interest to the inhabitants of Greenly. Jim Barry served Mr. Neville punctiliously, but his enthusiasm was reserved for His Lordship’s return. Mrs. Darlington made sure the accommodations were well set up for Master Fanley’s friend, but only for the Marquis did she embroider new pillow tops and wash the bedding with lavender water. And the Greenly cook, Sue Wilkins, who took exception to special requests, would not bother to know Mr. Neville’s favourite dish, but she had assembled a detailed list of every morsel that “His Honour” had ever even vaguely complimented.
    Mr. Fanley’s preference was also clear as daylight. He relished Denley’s dawning interest in the art of estate cultivation, he delighted in the restoration of Treehill and its master’s rightful return, and he was ever at his ease with Robert. Oscar Neville was a passing acquaintance, but Lord Robert spent many a comfortable hour in the saddle alongside Mr. Fanley’s country curricle as they tooled through the acres of Greenly and beyond.
    These points of comparison were enough to lower Mr. Neville in Mary’s opinion, but she felt sure he was the source of mischief that had blue-devilled her younger brother. For that, he was entirely sunk beyond redemption. If he were to admire her blooming cheeks till her deathbed, she would never believe him