"But I can't go home, not to Cobham, not without news of Caroline." She swallowed deeply, trying to ease the tightening sensation in her throat. Although the thought of her waking up to find Barrington peering down at her in bed, made her feel nauseous.
"What choice do you have? There is no other option open to you," he said, but his tone lacked conviction.
Grace shook her head. "I can't go home."
"You should not be embroiled in all of this." His words revealed a hint of frustration. "You're obviously a good person, kind and loyal to a fault."
She had been called many things: dull, weak, spiritless. No gentleman had ever complimented her character. She felt a flush rise to her cheeks. Her gaze drifted over his firm jaw, over his soft lips and sinful green eyes. The fluttering in her stomach felt strange, yet oddly exciting, something she had never experienced with Henry.
But she did not need these sorts of complications — she needed something else from him.
"Have you ever met someone for the first time and felt an unusual connection?" she said. "As though you've known them your whole life yet you've only known them less than a day?"
He gave an amused snort. "And then there are people you've known your entire life who still feel like strangers."
"Exactly." She smiled at his response as it confirmed her theory. He had a good heart beneath the bravado. "I need your help. I need a friend, my lord, someone to trust."
"You mean you need someone to help you find Miss Rosemond."
"Just for a few days," she said pleading her case. "I know it's unheard of, unacceptable even. A man and woman cannot be friends without someone suggesting impropriety, but no one need know you're assisting me. No one knows me here in Town. Besides, if anyone should see us together they will assume I'm Caroline."
"I can't help you," he said shaking his head. "I am a complicated man and not always good company."
"You mean you've never been friends with a woman."
"I fear, the time has arisen for me to be honest. I ask your forgiveness in advance should my words offend."
"Say what you will," she said. "There is no one here to stand in judgement."
"Very well." He sighed, sat back and crossed his arms over his chest. "I have only one type of relationship with women, and it involves little to no conversation. Intimacy is something I avoid on all levels, with everyone."
"Yet here you are in a closed carriage, telling me something you've never told another."
"Well … I …"
He couldn't answer. How wonderful.
"I understand," she said. "And I would never want you to do anything that would make you feel uncomfortable." She glanced out of the window and despite the fog, she still had no idea where she was. "Arlington Street, if you please."
"Excuse me."
"You may drop me on the corner of Arlington Street." Grace pulled his coat from around her shoulders and placed it on the seat next to her. "And thank you for the use of your coat."
"Miss Rosemond lives on Arlington Street?"
Studying his wide-eyed expression, she said, "Why? What's wrong with that?"
"It is a stone's throw from three of the most popular gentleman's clubs. You can't stay there."
For a man who had obviously indulged in many lascivious li
aisons, he was very stuffy. "But I have spent the last two days there on my own."
His gaze drifted leisurely down to the topaz necklace, dipping lower still. "Damn," he whispered and then gave an exasperated sigh. "Look. I may know of somewhere you can go. I'm not making any promises, but my brother and his wife are staying with her aunt and she's sailing for India in the morning. Perhaps you may stay there for a few days."
Grace clapped her hands together as a feeling of hope flooded her chest. "It sounds perfect. I'm sure I'll be fine on my own tonight."
"Tonight?"