“The Reverend Jenkins has been here forever,” Abigail said. “His sermons are as dry as dust, but I always liked going to his church services anyway just to bask in the glow of his saintliness. I am sorry I missed last Sunday, as we all did.”
“I tell you what, though, Gil,” Harry said. “One reproachful twinkle from those eyes of his was a far more powerful deterrent to mischief than all the wrath of our mother or any of our servants.”
“Indeed it was,” Abigail agreed. “Do you remember the time, Harry, when we sneaked over the wall into the vicarage garden to steal apples from the tree there only to discover that the vicar himself was standing at the back door watching us? And he smiled at us and told us to enjoy them? Camille burst into tears and I set my apples on the ground and refused to pick them up again and you said we were planning to take them to Mrs. Beynon, who had not been feeling well? That was when his smile turned reproachful.”
“I left mine on the ground too and swore I would never tell another lie in my life,” Harry said, and they both laughed.
Lieutenant Colonel Bennington, Abigail noticed, wasswirling his wine and gazing into his glass. She thought about him going down to the village, getting acquainted with the people she and Harry had known all their lives. He had not answered her earlier when she had suggested that he must be eager to go home. When Grandmama Kingsley asked him a few days ago if he was one of the Somerset Benningtons, he had simply said no. Did hehavea home? Or a family? He had been recruited as a private soldier when he was fourteen. Twenty years ago. He was thirty-four years old now, then, ten years older than she. Whom had he left behind all those years ago? Anyone? Had he ever gone back? Would hegoback?
But she did not want to wonder about him. She still found his company uncomfortable and wished fervently he had not remained here—or that she had not.
She served the sweets and he poured more wine, though Harry set a hand over the top of his glass and shook his head.
“If I get drunk,” he said, “I might start to sing.”
“Oh goodness,” Abigail said, “we must certainly not risk that.”
He took a couple of bites of his custard tart and then set his plate aside and lay back on the blanket, one knee raised, one arm flung across his eyes, though he was in the shade of a tree.
“I know how a prisoner must feel when he is released from jail,” he said. “Though I suppose it is unfair to all those people who kept me alive and did their best for me to compare either a hospital or a convalescent home to a prison.”
And within minutes he was asleep, his breathing deep and even. Lieutenant Colonel Bennington looked up at Abigail after he had watched Harry for a while.
“He is being healed,” he said softly.
It was the first time he had come outside twice in one day. And he was eating more than he had done even a week ago.
“Yes,” she said, and looked to where Beauty, her bone having been stripped down to a bare whiteness, was sniffing her way along the tree line. “I am going to take a walk. Would you care to join me?”
It had seemed only polite to ask. She did not expect that he would accept. He could use the need to keep an eye on Harry as an excuse.
“Yes,” he said, and picked up one of the apples before getting to his feet.
Well, she was stuck with his company now. She must get used to it, she supposed. He was staying here. So was she. She wondered if he was as disturbed about it as she was. But she knew he was. There had been a certain look on his face when he had realized this morning that she was not leaving with everyone else. She had assumed he must be aware of that fact as she had told everyone else, but apparently not. Just as she had not known thathewas staying indefinitely.
Beauty lifted her head, looked back at them, realized they were going for a walk, and went galloping toward them. Abigail wondered how she could ever have been afraid of the dog.
He was disturbingly tall and broad shouldered. The lieutenant colonel, that was.
Seven
She was not small as women went. The top of her head reached above his chin. But she was delicate and slender. And beautiful. And what he had taken at first for a haughty coldness was actually more of a quiet, reserved sort of dignity, Gil had come to believe—with some reluctance. He did not want to find himself liking her. For if he liked her, he might start finding her attractive. She was entirely the wrong sort of female for him to be attracted to. He would by far rather stick to women of his own class. Yet here she was, staying after everyone else had left and intending to remain indefinitely. And making it altogether less comfortable for him to stay.
Miss Abigail Westcott, he had concluded during the past week, when he had watched her far more than he had wanted to and far more than was good for him, did most of her living inside herself. Like an iceberg, she showed the merest tip of her totality to the world, even her family. Perhaps especially to them. He wondered if they realized it.
It was probably not fair to compare her to an iceberg.
Why the devil had he accepted her invitation to walk with her? She had no doubt asked out of her lady’s notion of politeness and had not wanted or expected him to come.
Without saying a word or perhaps eventhinkingone, she nevertheless made him feel like a great ugly lump. He was almost tempted to slouch along beside her to bring himself closer to her height. Instead he squared his shoulders and raised himself to his full height. The scarred side of his face was toward her. He did not make an excuse to shuffle over to her other side.
He hated the way she made him feel self-conscious. It was not a feeling to which he was accustomed.
Beauty pranced from side to side before them, yipping and waving her tail. She assured herself that no, he had not been teasing but was indeed going for a walk, and turned about to dash off ahead of them.
“Why are you not married?” he asked abruptly.
Now why out of all the myriad questions with which he might have attempted to open a polite conversation had he chosen that particular one? Unsurprisingly she turned her head sharply to look up at him, and he could almost see her mind shaping the wordshow dare you!
