Hugh scowled at her briefly, concerned about her skittish behavior. He wondered what he’d said or done to set her off on such a high-strung course. He saw the love she felt for him reflected in her eyes, lit from a source deep within her, a source he longed to discover. He was nearly at the point of sweeping her into his arms in answer and mutual discovery when she’d abruptly turned out the lights, leaving her eyes blank clouds of blue-gray fog. The change was so abrupt that he wondered if he had again been hallucinating. But there she stood by the door, patiently waiting. He decided he would allow her her head, so long as she did not grab the bit between her teeth. He smiled at her, extending his arm.
“Your aid and abetment would be appreciated,” he allowed, offering her a small bow.
“Have a care, Mr. Talverton, lest you tumble down again,” grinned Vanessa.
“Ah! But if I could be promised you as my nurse, it might be worthwhile.”
Vanessa feigned a broad yawn as they left the room.
“You cut me to the quick, Miss Mannion.”
“Such was my endeavor, Mr. Talverton,” assured Vanessa archly.
They slowly descended the stairs. In truth, the walking did aggravate Hugh’s headache, and a slight feeling of giddiness gripped the edges of his consciousness. They were halfway down the stairs when Jonas answered a knock on the door and was shown to be admitting Mr. Wilmot.
“Oh, bother,” murmured Vanessa, a slight moue of dissatisfaction turning down her features. She quickly recovered and smiled as he looked their way.
“Mr. Talverton,” his raspy voice called out as he crossed toward them. “I heard of your mischance and came to find out how you did.”
“Yes,” Hugh drawled, his eyelids drooping until he was nearly studying Mr. Wilmot through slits. He leaned more heavily on Vanessa, desiring to keep her close.
She looked at him in surprise, wondering at his sudden weakness and antagonistic manner toward Mr. Wilmot. Did he know of her father’s predicament?
“I understand I fared better than most do who come up against a group of keelboat stalwarts, no matter their numbers. Excuse me, but might we not continue to the parlor, Miss Mannion? I feel the sooner I am again in a recumbent position, I shall recover my strength.”
“Of course, Mr. Talverton. You may follow us if you would, Mr. Wilmot.”
“Yes, I believe I shall,” grated Mr. Wilmot, his saturnine features closed, yet watchful.
Vanessa was exceedingly aware of Mr. Wilmot’s presence behind her every step of the way. She felt his eyes boring into the back of her head and felt his heavy tread echoing her own lighter steps across the floor.
She paused at the parlor door. Though the room was shuttered against the hot afternoon sun, enough light filtered into the room to create a soft glow around Adeline and Amanda as they sat before the quilting frame, their brown-haired heads bent over the poppy-red and cypress-green design sewn on a cream ground. They presented an image of serenity that she was loath to shatter.
Her heart swelled with love for her family, and suddenly all the implications of Mr. Wilmot’s actions hit her. He would destroy the basic fabric of her family with barely the twitch of an eyebrow and still expect her to accede to marriage graciously. She did not believe he had come to her home to inquire after Mr. Talverton. More likely, he’d come to importune her further. She wondered when he’d begin his threats to her family or if he considered her too naive to appreciate the implications of his actions. White-hot anger overcame her, and her body stiffened.
Hugh Talverton, leaning on Vanessa’s arm, felt her stiffen. He looked at her face and noted the set rigidity of her features and the pallor of her complexion. He stood up straighter, wondering at the change in her demeanor. The marked change worried him. She was on edge and likely to land them all in the basket if she took some distempered freak. He silently cursed Wilmot’s presence, accurately guessing that in some way the man was responsible for her manner.
The moment was fleeting, for then Amanda Mannion looked up and saw them in the doorway.
“Mr. Talverton,” she said, rising gracefully, “I trust you are not feeling too ill from moving about?”
“No, madam,” he responded, smiling, as they entered the room, “though I must admit to a dashed weakness.”
“Yes, but he refuses to remain abed,” Vanessa said, leading Hugh toward a sofa.
Mrs. Mannion chuckled. “Gentlemen seldom care for their health, my dear, and generally maintain a stoic front. Just prop him up with pillows and hope he has sense enough to return to his bed before he must be carried.”
Hugh’s answering grin was lopsided. “Have no fear of that, Mrs. Mannion. After embarrassing myself by fainting last evening, I’m not likely to repeat the incident. It can hardly be conducive to winning favors,” he said, glancing at Vanessa’s face as he eased himself down on the sofa.
“Very prettily said, Talverton,” growled Wilmot from the doorway.
“Mr. Wilmot!” Mrs. Mannion exclaimed, swinging around. “I’m terribly sorry. I did not see you enter behind Vanessa and Mr. Talverton. Please, come in and sit down. Adeline, ring for refreshments,” she said, hurriedly crossing to his side.
“Thank you, madam,” he said, sitting in a winged armchair, his back to the door. He leisurely crossed his legs and, from under heavily-lidded eyes, looked across the room at Hugh Talverton. “My visit will be brief. I merely came to inquire after Mr. Talverton’s welfare and,” he said, turning his head back toward Amanda Mannion, the hint of a smile on his lips, “to see if I might have a word or two with Richard.”
Vanessa’s lips set in a straight line. Hugh touched her arm, turning her attention toward him. “There is no need to stand over me, Miss Mannion. I promise I shall not swoon."
"Oh! Oh, of course, Mr. Talverton,” she said, recalled to her circumstances. She sat down swiftly on a small chair near Hugh and as far from Mr. Wilmot as possible, without being obvious.
