A Perfect Gentleman by Bárbara Metzger Page B

to my sister and me eventually.”
    Not soon enough by half, in Stony’s estimation. “Does he bite you?” he wanted to know.
    “Not since I started carrying treats for him.”
    “You know, I don’t think I have ever seen a dog eat a potato before, or a cucumber sandwich.”
    “Aunt Augusta was a vegetarian, you see. She did not permit any flesh in her kitchen. At least she did not write that into her will.”
    Timms brought in another tray of refreshments and a fresh pot of hot water. Miss Kane was busy brewing the tea and rearranging the food and serving her aunt. Timms offered Stony a delicate cut-crystal goblet and a half-filled bottle of wine. The Madeira was so fine, and the bottle so bare of excise labels, that Stony could not help wondering if the sea captain was other than a naval officer, as he had assumed. He savored his glass and some excellent biscuits, finally relaxing.
    Miss Kane nibbled on a narrow slice of watercress sandwich. No wonder the woman was so thin, he considered. She ate like a bird. “The macaroons are delicious,” he mentioned between bites. “Have you tried them?”
    She did, at his urging. He felt better for that, for some reason.
    The dog was snoring, or was that the aunt? Either way, it was a peaceful, normal scene, one Stony was reluctant to disturb with mention of business matters.
    To delay, he asked for a cup of tea, since Timms had taken himself and the bottle away.
    “Sugar? Milk? Lemon?” Miss Kane was everything polite. She’d do, he decided, watching her graceful moves. He would not be embarrassed to take her out in public. Not too public, of course, for she still looked like a pallbearer. A bit of sightseeing, a few shops where he was unknown…
    Miss Kane was finished with her repast. The macaroon lay half-eaten on her plate. As soon as she handed Stony his cup, she cleared her throat. “About my request for your escort,” she began, straightening the spoons on the serving tray.
    Stony let go his plans for tomorrow. “Yes?”
    “I do not think we will suit.”
    For the second time in as many days, Stony’s trousers were tea spattered. Not suit? How could a worldly, fashionable gentleman like himself not suit this dowdy, eccentric female? Hell, he was not going to marry her—at which Gwen would be delighted instead of disappointed, once she met the woman—just take her touring! How arrogant, how presumptuous. How could he change her mind?
    Stony was thinking of that check in his pocket. The devil alone knew what Miss Kane was thinking as she stuttered and sputtered through an apology for taking his time, for letting Atlas savagely gum his hand, for letting the dog eat his lovely flowers.
    “For heaven’s sake, madam, just say what is wrong and I shall try to fix it.”
    “Oh, there is nothing to fix. Nothing at all, to be sure.” She refolded the extra napkins, her head down so that black abomination on her head hid her features and her expression. Then she cleared her throat, as if to gather her resolve. “You are simply not what I had in mind.”
    Before Stony could ask for an explanation, she continued: “You see, Timmy thought I should do better with a gentleman’s escort, but I find you…”
    “Yes?”
    “Too…too…
    “Young?” He gave his best Wellstone smile, wondering again at the female’s age. Her skin appeared good, from what he could see of it, clear and unlined. “I assure you, my stepmama thinks I am nearing my dotage.”
    “Too pretty.”
    “You think I am too…pretty?”
    “Well, polished then, if the other offends. I would feel like a lump of coal next to a faceted diamond. Worse, at your side I would feel that every eye was upon me, which is far from my intention. I much prefer my anonymity.”
    Stony could understand that a shy girl might shun the notoriety of public scrutiny, but Miss Kane did not appear bashful. Buffleheaded, perhaps, but not bashful. He could even recognize that an heiress might cherish her privacy, away