“Problem?”
“Pardon?” Those wonderful gray eyes turned his way.
“That’s the third sound like that you’ve made. Do you have digestion problems?”
“Of course not.” She frowned, forming a line down her forehead.
“Let’s hear it.” Bram waved a hand about.
“Hear what?”
“Whatever had you making those disapproving noises.”
She was clearly battling with the need to say something.
“Are you chicken-hearted then, Miss Birdwhistle? First the archery and now not telling me what I have said that vexes you.”
Her shoulders snapped back, and those lovely eyes turned frosty.
“I am not chicken-hearted; what I am is polite. However, if you really want to know, I was wondering why you cannot partake of the variety of foods laid out, Mr. Nightingale?”
“Because I want hot toast and preserves. The preserves in question are grown here, and I have missed them. After four years, I should surely be allowed this concession, Miss Birdwhistle?”
Her face flushed with more color. “Forgive me. I had no right to question you.”
“Not at all. It was a valid question.”
She jammed another mouthful of eggs into her mouth.
“What was the first noise for?”
“I’d rather not say.”
He made a clucking noise that she ignored.
“How long have you been traveling, Mr. Nightingale?” The bright-eyed cousin leaned across Miss Birdwhistle, who was shoveling more eggs into her mouth, eyes now on her plate.
“Four years.”
Miss Birdwhistle’s fingers clenched around her fork, the knuckles turning white. That was an interesting reaction.
“Where have you been to, Mr. Nightingale?” Miss Wainwright asked him.
“In four years, I should think a great many places,” Miss Birdwhistle said. She then frowned, and Bram guessed she’d wanted to keep her mouth shut. Apparently, he made her talk, which he found intriguing.
“Venice, Pompeii, Cairo, Sudan, and Siberia to name a few. I have trekked mountains in Nepal—”
“What was Pompeii like?” Miss Birdwhistle asked him before she could stop herself again.
Bram saw the flash of excitement in her pretty eyes, and then it was gone as quickly as it had come. He wondered who dressed her, because that color was not dissimilar to what he’d had splattered all over his clothing when he’d arrived last night.
“I have never seen anything like it,” Bram said. She didn’t question him further, but he knew she wanted to know about Pompeii, so he went on to detail everything he could remember about it.
Her eyes stayed on his face the entire time, taking in his every word. It was an unsettling feeling to have her full attention on him.
“Have you traveled, Miss Birdwhistle?”
“I’m not sure how I could.” She frowned again. “I am a woman, and therefore not allowed to do so alone. But I will when I’m older. I will go, and no one will be able to stop me.” The last words were whispered, which he guessed was so her cousin did not hear.
