She was also adept at giving orders and accustomed to being obeyed. Oh yes, little Pygmy had grown into just the kind of woman he’d thought she would.
Emma turned her back on him—again. Derick shook his head as he watched her struggle with the heavy oak door.
She still had more intelligence than common sense, however, since she was apparently planning to run out into a dangerous storm alone.
He reached around her and grasped the handle, stopping the door from opening. “You neglected to give me an assignment.”
As if to demonstrate that her stubbornness still remained, Emma lifted her chin in challenge. “I hadn’t thought you would—”
“Wish to help?” Derick returned her challenge, raising a brow. Damn. Her assumption irked. And the fact that he’d been stung by it irked more. He’d long grown accustomed to not caring what anyone thought. “Feel responsible for a member of my household?”
Emma blinked. “Your household?” she sputtered. “You haven’t been to Derbyshire in fourteen—”
A huff of exasperation escaped her lips, a gesture Derick took to mean she didn’t think too highly of him or his offer. He allowed a half-cynical smile to curve his lips. What did he care if Miss Emma Wallingford disapproved of one of his many alter egos? It wasn’t him, after all.
Besides, he doubted she’d like him any better if she knew his true purpose in Derbyshire.
To investigate her brother for treason.