“Incomes?”
“If you had troubled yourself to read my letters, you would know about our academy.”
“I did read your letters.”
She glanced pointedly at him. “But you were not courteous enough to respond. You merely instructed your solicitors to deal with me.”
“Guilty as charged. But to my credit, I intended to call upon you next week.”
When he smiled winningly, Arabella drew a sharp breath. After a moment, she took another tack. “Come now, Lord Danvers. You don’t want responsibility for us, admit it.”
Marcus couldn’t bring himself to lie. “Very well, it’s true, I don’t want it.”
“Then why don’t you simply forget about us?”
“I doubt anyone who has ever met you,” Marcus said dryly, “could simply forget you, Miss Loring.” When she gave him a piercing look, he sighed. “You are my responsibility now, whether either of us likes it, and I won’t abandon my duty to see to your welfare. You’ll find I’m not such an ogre. And I’m wealthy enough to fund your dowries.”
That made her chin lift. “I tell you, we won’t accept your charity. Our academy allows us adequate financial independence.”
Admittedly, learning of her academy had roused Marcus’s curiosity. “I understand this academy of yours is a finishing school?”
“Of a sort. We teach comportment and manners and correct speech to wealthy young women who were not born to the Quality.”
“The daughters of the working class, in other words. How very unique you are, Miss Loring.”
Her gaze narrowed. “You are making sport of me.”
“Perhaps.” Actually he wasn’t. He truly thought it admirable that Arabella and her sisters had found an occupation to support themselves, unlike almost every other lady of their station, who wouldn’t be caught dead employed in menial labor. But he couldn’t help wanting to provoke her, if only for the pleasure of seeing those beautiful gray eyes kindle again.
“And your sisters teach there as well?” Marcus asked leadingly.
“Yes, as do two other ladies who are friends of mine. Our patroness is Lady Freemantle. It was at her request that we opened the school three years ago. Are you acquainted with her? Her late husband was a baronet, Sir Rupert Freemantle.”
Marcus nodded. “I know her. But I’m not certain it is fitting for my wards to be employed at a school, no matter how refined. You realize that as your guardian, I will have to approve your participation?”
Arabella eyed him warily. “I assure you, it is a perfectly respectable endeavor.”
“Some would call your opinions bluestocking nonsense.”
It was very bad of him to goad her like that, but the pleasure of seeing her spirited reaction was too great to resist.
She seemed, however, to recognize his purpose. “You won’t provoke me into losing my temper, my lord.”
“No?”
When he took a step closer, she froze, staring up at him as if she found him fascinating. But then she straightened her spine and stood her ground, her gaze direct and challenging. Marcus had the sudden savage urge to sweep her up in his arms and carry her to the nearest bed.
He’d never had such a primal reaction to a woman before-bloody inappropriate, considering that she was his ward.
Arabella drew a slower breath, clearly striving for equanimity, as he was. “I don’t believe your mental acumen is impaired, my lord. Why is it so difficult for you to accept that we don’t wish to be under your thumb? That we don’t want your financial assistance? You are under no obligation to support us.”
“The will says differently.”
“Then I will hire my own solicitors to contest the will.”
“How can you afford it? You don’t have the where-withal to contest my guardianship in court.”
“Our patroness will help us. Lady Freemantle does not believe that women should be compelled to marry, and she has promised us her support. She is not as wealthy as you, of course, but her father left her a fortune from his manufacturing and mining enterprises.”