The Scandalous Life of a True Lady by Bárbara Metzger

too. That is, yes.”
    “He hasn’t been around.”
    “Been busy, I suppose. The devil always is.”
    He was still staring, still holding her hand. Simone tugged it away, with effort, and said, “Mr. Harris is out, so if you’ve come to see him…”
    “No, it’s you I came to see. Glad for it, too, let me tell you. That is, I came about your brother. Harry said he needed a guardian.”
    “Thank you for your concern, but I shall make arrangements of my own.” She was convinced to find a suitable person, maybe a solicitor, now more than ever.
    “You won’t find anyone better’n my cousin Rexford. Honest as sunshine, diligent, devoted to his family and the land. Harry thought I ought to come and send my recommendation to Rex along with his papers to sign. I mean, not even Harry can expect Rex to take on a strange boy sight unseen.” That was the story he and Harry had devised, to give credence to Daniel’s visit.
    “The major was correct, that someone should have Auguste’s welfare at heart if I cannot. But while my brother is a stranger to you, Lord Rexford is also a stranger to me.”
    “Exactly. But he’s in the country, with his wife and babies. And your brother is at school. So I have come for us to get acquainted. Surrogates, don’t you know.”
    An odd kind of logic, Simone thought, but Mr. Stamfield’s smile was friendly, his admiration reassuring. He was obviously a friend of the major’s and known to the staff here, so Simone did not feel uncomfortable in his presence. Further, she had hardly spoken to anyone but Sally, the seamstress, and Miss White in two days. Major Harrison never visited, and Mr. Harris stayed locked behind the doors of his library, which she had never been invited to visit or use. At breakfast he stayed rapt in his papers, making it plain as day that he did not wish to be interrupted. At dinner, he made less conversation than Jeremy did as he passed the plates. They’d said everything they needed, the secretary’s taciturn manner indicated, with neither budging from their position. He still thought she was ungrateful and foolish and dishonest; she thought he was secretive, autocratic, and pig-headed. He wanted her to stay; she was going.
    So she might as well chat with Mr. Stamfield. Perhaps he could tell her a little more about the major and how soon she could expect him, to be done with this charade. She decided to offer the large gentleman tea, since he must need a great deal of sustenance. At least she thought he had a hungry expression in his startling blue eyes. A single female did not entertain an unmarried, unrelated male caller, much less a total stranger, but she’d broken so many social rules, what was one more?
    Before she could send Sally to fetch a tray from the kitchen, Mr. Stamfield said, “I say, you’re dressed for riding. Care to take a turn in the park?”
    Simone couldn’t think of anything she’d like better, she’d been in the house so long. But she did not have a horse, naturally, and hadn’t been on one in ages.
    “Neither one’s a problem,” he said. “Can’t gallop or anything in the park, so you’ll get your seat back. Um, am I supposed to say seat?” He went on without waiting for a reply: “And Harry’s stables are bound to have something suitable, I’m sure. He’d have nothing to carry my weight, of course, but I rode my own mount.”
    “If you are certain the major won’t mind me riding one of his horses?”
    “Harry wouldn’t mind if you rode his— That is, ’course not. Great chap, old Harry. Generous to a fault. Um, he did think you ought to wear a veil if we went out.”
    That suited Simone, too. That way no one could recognize her later, if she applied at their doorstep looking for a governess position. A scrap of netting was quickly pinned to the shako cap, and her hair was gathered into another net while Mr. Stamfield visited the major’s stables.
    Not much conversation took place as Simone got used to the