“You keep saying you prefer my bark, and I find it quite impossible to go on being grateful to you when you behave like a perfect boor.”
His brows rose. “In what light then do you describe your own conduct, Miss Temple? I count myself lucky to still have my eyes and no raking tracks of your claws down my cheeks.”
Caught between fury and laughter, Felicity shook her clenched fists. “I wish you will stop! And for heaven’s sake leave off that ghastly pose of world-weary boredom! It does not impress me in the least.”
“Would it surprise you to know that I have no desire to impress you?”
Felicity let out a frustrated mewl. “Oh, to perdition with you! You really are the most irritating, provoking —”
She broke off as the door was thrust open with a foot and the servant staggered in with a loaded tray. He dumped it on the table and proceeded to lay out a collection of dishes, plates and cutlery.
Felicity cast a fulminating glance at Lord Lynchmere and found him regarding her with a lurking twinkle. With a resurgence of feeling, she realised he had been deliberately driving her into a frenzy. Was it to put her off delving into deep waters as he called it? Or did he enjoy pricking at her only to amuse himself at her expense?
Well, she would not give him the satisfaction. Summoning the old smooth front she had ever employed at the academy, she surveyed the various viands now spread across the table. As well as the sliced beef revealed beneath the cover lifted by the servant, there was a loaf of bread, a dish of butter, a platter of fruit and another of tartlets, as well as a crumbly cheese set on a board. Her hunger returned, superseding all else and she accepted a serving of beef at the hands of his annoying lordship.
“May I cut you some bread, ma’am?”
The over-polite note made her look up from an inspection of her plate. He was wearing an expression of exaggerated subservience, one hand on the bread loaf, the other poised with a knife ready to slice it through.
Felicity broke into giggles. “You are ridiculous.”
His mouth quirked. “One slice or two?”
“Two, if you please,mylord.”
He smiled at the emphasis, but said nothing more as he sawed through the loaf. He handed her a slice on the knife and cut another. Felicity buttered the bread as he cut slices for himself. With a flourish, he laid several pieces of beef on his bread, spread mustard over it and enclosed it with another slice.
“Behold! We are indebted to Lord Sandwich for this convenience, did you know?”
Following suit, she took his lead, determined to keep to light discussion for the duration of the meal. But she was so hungry, she had no leisure for talk, saying nothing at all as she finished partaking of her bread and meat and began upon a small plate of dainties.
Lord Lynchmere, having disposed of a couple of thick beef sandwiches, drained a tankard and set it down with a thump. “The deuce! Something I meant to tell you.”
Felicity looked up, the remains of a tartlet in her fingers. A flitter of apprehension attacked her. “Something bad?”
“Unpleasant, rather.” He reached for the platter of fruit and brought it closer to him. “Maskery’s intention was set, it appears. My secretary Jerram found out that he had dismissed his servants and left without paying his shot at his lodgings.”
“Before he came for me in Bath?”
“Just so. The landlord was disgruntled, as well he might be, but glad to be rid of an unreliable tenant. Jerram located Maskery’s valet at a tavern he was used to frequent.”
“Had he anything to add?”
His lordship’s lip curled as he cut a piece off the cheese to add to the fruit he had selected. “To some purpose. Maskery despatched the bulk of his belongings by carrier to an address in Hanover.”
The sense of betrayal resurfaced. “Then he never intended anything of what he pretended to me.”
“I believe you represented a last-ditch attempt to recoup something from the wreck. This valet had not been paid all his wage, though he had been given a recommendation. Much good that will do him once Maskery’s departure is generally known.”
“Did he know of the plan to fetch me from Bath?”
Lord Lynchmere did not pause in his task of peeling an apple. “It seems unlikely. His part ended when he had despatched his master’s effects. He returned to find Maskery gone, and a few guineas and the letter of recommendation left with the landlord.”
Curiously, Felicity found this lessened to a degree her feeling of ill-usage. “I am not then the only sufferer.”
He was quartering his apple, but glanced across, the twist to his lip pronounced. “By no means. A number of gentlemen besides myself stand to lose thousands, remember?”
Quick fury flared. “You count that a loss? You set your own thousands at risk to gain his. It is a hypothetical loss at best. This valet had worked for his wage, as had I for my few guineas. Those are real losses, sir.” She paused, her breath shortened, realising she was being treated to his enigmatic look.
