Sari Robins - [Andersen Hall Orphanage 05] by The Governess Wears Scarlet Page B

acted instinctively. Often it’s that way with certain moves; you can’t overthink.”
    She stared up at him, wide-eyed and curious.
    He added quickly, “Or so I’ve heard from some of the Bow Street Runners.” He changed the topic.“Did you simply happen upon this book or did you seek it out?”
    Peering up at him from the corner of her eye, she replied, “That’s a very astute question. You must be a very good barrister. Do you like it?”
    She was trying to deflect him once again. Very interesting. But he wasn’t an Officer of the Crown for nothing. “Were you being bullied? Is that why you sought out the book?”
    Looking away, she stared off into the darkness. “It was a long time ago, I can hardly remember.”
    “How old were you when you went to Andersen Hall?”
    “Thirteen.”
    Steele scratched his chin. “I wonder that Headmaster Dunn didn’t do a better job of protecting his charges.”
    Her head whipped around. “Headmaster Dunn couldn’t be everywhere at every turn. He did the best anyone could have ever done under the circumstances. No, he did better!”
    “So you took it upon yourself to stop the harassment.”
    She gritted her teeth as if admitting to anything went against the grain. “Are all barristers this curious?”
    His lips lifted into a smile. “No, I seem to be one of the more inquiring variety.” Especially as it pertained to Miss West.
    “For the record, Headmaster Dunn ran the orphanage better than any navy ship.”
    “I know. He was a singular character in every way.”
    That seemed to mollify her. “Exactly so. I owe him a great deal and count my lucky stars to have landed at Andersen Hall.”
    “So if you didn’t worry over yourself, you sought out the book to protect someone else.”
    She missed a step, and he slipped his arm around her tiny waist to keep her from falling. He caught a whiff of her clean, heathery scent, far more pleasant than the cloying, flowery perfumes most ladies of fashion wore. Still, this young miss was as mannerly as any of them. Again he realized that it was only a quirk of fate as to who was a penniless orphan and who a titled heiress.
    Swallowing, she straightened and stepped away, as if uncomfortable with his touch. “Uh, thank you, I’m fine.”
    Tilting his head, he removed his arm and they continued walking side by side.
    Miss West offered, “Some people…some people can handle more than others.”
    “And you were helping someone who wasn’t quite as…resilient.”
    “Yes.” The word was offered grudgingly, as if she were uncomfortable laying claim to this remarkable conduct.
    Staring up at the star-speckled night, Steele realized that Miss West had a sense of justice that paralleled his. She’d seen someone being unduly harassed, saw that no one was doing anything to stop it, and took matters into her own hands. “I’m impressed.” Steele scratched his chin. “I imagine the bully had to be a good bit older than you and likely a few stone heavieras well. I’ll bet when he crossed you, he didn’t know what hit him!”
    Her brow furrowed. “How do you know so much?”
    “It’s my job to try to read between the lines. Although, I confess, I haven’t been very good at it of late.” His heart skipped a beat. He hadn’t admitted that to anyone!
    He swallowed as the terrible fear of the politically astute pricked at his heart. No one in office confessed to failure. Not in his world. It was political and social suicide.
    He forced himself to consider the ramifications. Miss West was a governess—and one with a frayed shawl, scrappy shoes, and spotty references, no less. He comforted himself with the thought that there was little harm to be wrought. Still, he never should’ve spoken so freely.
    What’s wrong with me these days? he wondered. Heath Bartlett’s betrayal had shaken him, that was true, but he’d begun making mistakes long before then. And he was taking chances and accepting tasks that no man in his right mind