“Subject to my permission, you are,” replied Worth.
Peregrine ground his teeth, and flung over to the window, and stood staring out on to the square.
Miss Taverner’s fierce blue eyes met her guardian’s cool grey ones in a long look that spoke volumes. “You may, through an error in my father’s Will, be our guardian in name, sir, but that is all.”
“You cannot have read the Will, Miss Taverner,” said the Earl.
“I am aware that the control of our fortune is in your hands,” snapped Miss Taverner. “And I am anxious to come to an agreement with you!”
“By all means,” agreed Worth. “You will not find me at all difficult. I shall not, I hope, find myself obliged to interfere in your lives very much.” He added, with the flicker of a smile: “I am not even going to make myself unpleasant to you on this question of your coming to London against my advice.”
“Thank you,” said Miss Taverner witheringly.
He moved towards the secretaire and opened it. “That was, after all, a piece of advice given to suit my own convenience. I have no real objection to your having come to town, and I will do what lies in my power to see you comfortably established.” He picked up a document and held it for Miss Taverner to see. “I have here the lease of a furnished house in Brook Street which you may move into at your earliest convenience. I trust you will find it to your liking.”
“You are extremely obliging,” said Miss Taverner, “but I do not know that I should care to lodge in Brook Street.”
The smile gleamed again. “Indeed, Miss Taverner? And in which street would you care to lodge?”