A Dark and Brooding Gentleman. Margaret McPhee

in those tawny eyes before she masked it.

      ‘If you would excuse me for a few minutes, ma’am.’ Miss Allardyce set her cards face down upon the green baize surface of the card table and got to her feet. She smiled at his mother. ‘I have left my handkerchiefs in my bedchamber and find I have need of them.’

      His mother gave a sullen nod, but did not look pleased.

      ‘Well?’ she asked as the door closed behind her companion. ‘What is it that you have to say to me?’

      Hunter walked over to Miss Allardyce’s chair and sat down upon it. ‘How are you finding it being back at Blackloch?’

      ‘Well enough,’ she said in a tone that would have soured the freshest of milk. She eyed him with cold dislike. ‘There are no amends that you can make for what you did, Sebastian. You cannot expect that I will forgive you.’

      ‘I do not,’ he said easily and lifted Miss Allardyce’s cards from the table. He fanned them out, looking at them. ‘Is Miss Allardyce to play?’

      His mother gave a grudging nod.

      Hunter gestured for another card from the banker’s pile. And his mother slid one face down across the baize towards him. He noticed the arthritic knuckles above the large cluster of diamonds that glittered upon her fingers, and the slight tremor that held them.

      ‘I did not know you had taken on a companion.’

      ‘There is much you do not know about me, Sebastian.’

      ‘You did not advertise the position in the Glasgow Herald; I would have seen it.’ He narrowed his eyes and stared at the cards as if musing what move to make. His attention was seemingly focused entirely upon the fan of cards within his hand.

      ‘Miss Allardyce came to me recommended by a friend. She is from a good family, the daughter of a knight, no less, albeit in unfortunate circumstances.’

      ‘Indeed,’ murmured Hunter and played his card.

      His mother nodded appreciatively at his choice. She sniffed and regarded her own cards more closely, then filled the silence as he had hoped. ‘She is left alone while her father, a Sir Henry Allardyce, is hospitalised. I offered my assistance when I heard of her situation.’

      ‘You are too good, Mother, taking in waifs and strays.’

      ‘Do not be sharp, Sebastian. It does not suit you.’ He gave a small smile of amusement. She played a card.

      Hunter eyed it. ‘Your card skills have improved.’

      His mother tried not to show it, but he could tell she was pleased with the compliment.

      ‘Did she offer a letter of recommendation, a character?’

      ‘Of course not. I told you, she is a gentleman’s daughter with no previous experience of such a position.’ His mother’s eyes narrowed. ‘You are very interested in Miss Allardyce all of a sudden. Do not think to start with any of your rakish nonsense. I will not stand for it. She is my companion.’

      ‘Miss Allardyce is not my type,’ he said coolly. ‘As well you know.’

      Her cheeks coloured faintly at his reference to the light-skirts in whom he had previously taken such interest. ‘There is no need for vulgarity.’

      ‘I apologise if I have offended you.’ He inclined his head. ‘My concern is with you, Mother, and if that warrants an interest in those you take into your employ, particularly in positions of such confidence, then I make no apology for that. What do you really know of the girl? Of her trustworthiness and her background?’

      ‘Oh, do not speak of concern for me, for I know full well that you have none,’ she snapped. The disdain was back in her eyes, their momentary truce broken. ‘And as for Miss Allardyce, or any of my staff, I will not be dictated to, nor will I have my choice vetted by you. To put it bluntly, Sebastian, it is none of your business.’

      ‘On the contrary, I owe it to my father—’

      ‘Do not dare speak his name! You have no right, no damned right at all!’ And she threw the cards down on the table and swept from the room.

      Phoebe spent the next hour trying to pacify her employer in the lady’s rooms.

      ‘Come, cease your pacing, Mrs Hunter. You will make yourself ill.’ Already the older woman’s face was pale and pinched. She ignored Phoebe and continued her movement about the room.

      ‘How dare he?’ she mumbled to herself.