As it chanced, he’d already purchased a pretty little brooch that caught his eye when he was on an errand for his mother in Salisbury. It was a trumpery thing, but he hoped the depiction of a coach and horses might amuse her. Apple had thankfully opened the box while his parents were engaged in admiring their own gifts, for after a single glance, she’d looked up, met his eyes, and gone off into a fit of the giggles.
On tenterhooks, and torn between delight at her appreciation of the joke and dread that an explanation would be called for, Alex inserted himself between where she sat and his mother’s chair to block her view. Frowning down at Apple, he shook his head, giving her a minatory look. In a moment she had contrived to control her laughter, but her eyes sparkled up at him in the mischievous manner that had become, insensibly, a look to which Alex looked forward.
“It is only missing the pistol,” she murmured.
“Even harder to explain,” he returned.
That quenched any remaining amusement, and Alex regretted saying it when she glanced past him to where his parents were thankfully still in close discussion together. He went across to the tray on the sideboard and picked up the decanter, moving to top up her glass. He handed it to her. “A little more wine, Miss Greenaway?”
She sipped at it and surprised him yet again. “It’s a fine Madeira, but the Douro red is better.”
Alex had to laugh. “Take it you’re a connoisseur?”
“I ought to be, but I’m not. Papa wouldn’t allow me to join the tasters often enough to be able to judge properly.”
“Seems you’ve an educated palate at least.”
She glanced again at his parents, now clearly visible. “You oughtn’t to be talking about it, Alex.”
He’d cursed himself for forgetting for a moment, and had reluctantly resumed his pose of disinterest for the remainder of the day. It had been harder to hold aloof, and worse to realise how much he hated the necessity.
Alive to the consequences of falling too much under Apple’s spell — for there was no denying her manifold attractions — he yet found it both galling and uncomfortable to hold back. For the first time in his adult life, he was moved in all sorts of ways by a female, and she was as ineligible as she could possibly be. And very likely more so, if his suspicions had any foundation.
The assembled huntsmen were just beginning to take to horse for the start when Alex found one of the inn’s waiters at his elbow.
“A note for you, my lord.”
Alex took the unsealed paper and unfolded it, reading its message with astonishment:
My lord Dymond, if you could spare me a moment, this fellow will lead you to my private parlour. Vergette.
What in the world —? The lawyer had come seeking him! Today of all days? His business must be urgent indeed.
Alex cast a glance across at the carriage. Should he alert Apple? Not yet at least, if the fellow chose rather to write to him. With rising apprehension in his chest, he nodded at the waiter. “Lead me to him, if you will.”
With a word to his groom to keep his horse on the move, he followed the waiter through the oaken front door of the Luthrie Arms and up the wide ancient stair to a door on the first floor. Both intrigue and dismay mounted as his guide knocked and a voice called out, “Come.”
Vergette was standing by the mantel, as urbane and avuncular in his appearance as Alex remembered. He came forward as Alex dove a hand into his pocket and bestowed a suitable douceur upon the waiter, dismissing him with a nod.
“Very good of you to give me a moment, my lord Dymond. May I wish you the compliments of the season?”
Alex shook hands, impatience rising. “Yes, never mind all that, Vergette. What the devil does this mean? Why should you come seeking me here, and at such a moment?”
The man’s customary urbanity did not falter. “That, my lord, I will reveal if you will kindly consent to an appointment in this place tomorrow, since I take it that today is out of the question.”
“Obviously. Hunt’s just about to leave. Shouldn’t think we’d be back for several hours.”
“And you cannot be absent, naturally, my lord Dymond. In any event, it is no part of my desire to lend particularity to our meeting.”
Alex lost patience. “What the deuce is this about, Vergette? Seems to me your coming here like this is of a piece with the rest. Dashed havey-cavey, the whole business!”
Vergette gave him one of those enigmatic looks that this time annoyed Alex almost beyond bearing. “That, my dear sir, is a more precise encapsulation than I could have made myself.”
Despite himself, Alex could not help a snort of laughter. “Well, I wish you will at least give me a hint. What’s to do?”
Vergette sighed. “You are an intelligent man, my lord Dymond. You must surely perceive that only the direst necessity would serve to bring me to you at this season.”
“That’s what I’m saying!”
