“Not if I have any say in the matter—and I do.Eighteen is too young to be married.”
An odd look came into his eyes.“And yet many people are.”
“Including me,” she said with deliberate lightness.
His perceptive gaze was suddenly unbearable, and she looked away.The thought of her late husband still made her shudder.At least she now had the power to prevent a similar disaster for Lily.
“How long have you been widowed?”he asked.
“Two years and three months.Too late for condolences.”It had always been too late for those.“What will you do in Cogglesworth?”
She risked a glance at him and his serious expression relaxed into surely the sweetest smile she had ever seen on a man.
“I hope to dine with you.”
Her eyebrows flew up.What shocked her was not that he had asked, but that she was so tempted to accept.Even as she knew she could not.
Perhaps he read the conflict in her face, for he said gravely, “I shan’t use the occasion to importune or seduce.”
Laughter took her by surprise, because he had used her own words back at her.But she met his gaze like a challenge.“Then it is as well that I have bespoken the inn’s one private parlour, is it not?”
***
THEY ARRIVED IN COGGLESWORTHlate in the afternoon, and on the innkeeper’s directions, Mr.De’Ath went off immediately to buy a new horse.
Foolishly, perhaps, Tabitha looked forward to her quiet supper with him.Despite her previous experiences with the male of the species, she tended to believe his declaration of gentlemanly conduct, and while part of her might have been piqued, the more important, thinking parts, liked the absence of all that silliness.She wanted to know him better.
The George was not a posting house, but a quiet, almost rural inn on the edge of the town, where she was known.It was usually her last stopping place before Sark Park.She did not even have to worry about her dress, for she carried with her only an overnight bag.He would have to put up with her in her travelling gown, which was admittedly fashionable as well as becoming.
Laughing at herself, she went down to her private parlour, where the table was already set, and was brought a glass of sherry by the innkeeper’s wife.
As she sipped it, it struck her suddenly that Mr.De’Ath might simply gallop off on his new horse, with or without apology.That would be...disappointing.
But it seemed he had not.The innkeeper showed him into the room only a minute later and poured him a glass of sherry too.
Again, she was struck by the extraordinary fragility of his appearance.There seemed to be not an ounce of fat on his body and the pale skin of his face stretched taut over the fine bones.Yet there was nothing languid about him.Every movement had an air of suppressed energy; his whole face was alive with interest, curiosity, and sheer vitality that fascinated her.Had sheeverbeen so enthused for life?
Once, perhaps, before she met it head-on in marriage.
“Well?”she asked languidly, as he sat opposite her by the empty fireplace.“Did you locate a suitable horse?”
“I did.A friendly creature.”
“Friendly?”she repeated.“Was that your chief requirement?”
His smile was endearingly sheepish.“Yes.”
“Most gentlemen will choose something showy, or a beast with proven stamina or particular bloodlines.”
“I require none of those.”
“Then you don’t hunt?”
“No.”Was that a trace of regret?“Do you?”
“I have done.I enjoyed the danger.”
A hint of something very like longing sparked in his eyes before they focused on her.“Why?”
