“Hello…? Is anyone about…?”
The three men stared speechlessly at one another as the gruff male voice rang from the direction of the front hall.
“’Ere,” said Tummet, heaving himself from his chair with a scared look. “I’d best go and find out who’s come to pay me a morning call.” He ran out, then stuck his head around the door and hissed, “You gents better get ready to ’op ’orf. Quick-like!” He vanished from sight.
Morris said urgently, “I’ll go and collect my things.”
“Afraid to be seen with me?” sneered Rossiter.
“Don’t be such a gudgeon.” Considerably irritated, Morris stamped along the hall to the rear servants stairs.
Tummet ran back into the kitchen, his brown eyes very round. “A lady’s come calling, Cap’n,” he wheezed. “But not fer me, more’s the pity! ’Er groom says it’s you as she’s looking fer. A Lady Naomi Lutonville! Cor! Whatta piece of toast!”
CHAPTER FIVE
So she had come! Rossiter’s heavy heart gave a leap. “Glory, glory!” he whispered, and ran for the door.
Lady Lutonville was sitting in the Great Hall, a riding crop in her hand. She came to her feet as Rossiter entered, and faced him in silence. He paused for a moment, staring, trying to equate this poised and bewitchingly lovely creature with the shy girl he had left behind so long ago.
She watched him unsmilingly, her head very high, her firm chin tilted upward. Her riding habit was of a dark green that made her fair skin look almost translucent, and white lace gleamed at her throat and wrists. A broad-brimmed green hat, one side turned up and decorated with a sweeping white feather, was set upon her powdered hair, and thick ringlets had been pulled into a cluster below her left ear. Her beauty was not as exotic as that of Miss Falcon, but he found her delicate little nose adorable, the moulding of her face superb, her mouth sweetly curved and very kissable, the slim but well-rounded shape of her exactly as he had dreamed. The top of her proud head reached to his ear, just as it should. She was the personification of his gentle lady from Tranquillity Terrace, only inestimably more perfect.
“Naomi!” Hands outstretched, he started eagerly towards her.
She sank into a deep curtsy. “How kind in you to recognize me today, Captain Rossiter.”
There was a mocking edge to her voice, a hauteur to her manner, and after one disdainful glance at his hands, she ignored them.
She had as well have thrown a jug of cold water in his face, and Rossiter halted, and stood motionless.
“Faith,” she said with a brittle laugh, “I cannot wonder at your surprise. ’Tis most improper for a single lady to call at the home of a bachelor. Particularly”—a spark came into those great green eyes—“after he has brutalised her.”
Brutalised…? Bewildered, he said, “What—on earth—?”
“So you did not recognize me after all. Yesterday evening, sir. The hold-up.”
“Good God!Youwere the silly chit who—?” He cut the words off quickly, but not quickly enough.
Naomi’s lips tightened, and anger deepened the colour in her cheeks. “A true gentleman, sir, might have found it in his heart to show some compassion to a lady in distress, rather than reviling her.”
How coldly she spoke, with no least vestige of affection. And what an ironic twist of fate, that of all the women in the world, it had to be his dream wife he had handled so shabbily! Forgetting her infuriating obstinacy, he could think only of how impatiently he had tossed her into the carriage, and, dismayed, he stammered, “I did not mean—That is, I would not for the world—Oh, Lord, Naomi! I wish you will believe—”
“La, what vehemence,” she interpolated with a bored shrug. “And it is, after all, ofpeu d’importance,” From the corner of her eye she saw him stiffen. Concentrating on straightening the cuff of her glove, she added, “Nor did I come here for an apology, sir.”
“I had thought perhaps you came to offer one,” he said quietly.
“I!”Outraged, she frowned at him.
He stepped closer. “The reception I was accorded at the Manor was not what a man might expect when calling on his betrothed. I realize we have been long apart, but wearebetrothed—or so I believed.”
How sincere and earnest he managed to appear! She yearned to scratch him, but there were more deadly things than scratches. And so she laughed, soft and liltingly, and had the satisfaction of seeing him flinch. “Are we? Lud, I must have forgot! But never think you were quite out of our thoughts. Rumoursdomanage to drift back to England. Sooner or later.”
She “must have forgot…” Gideon took a steadying breath. “And you began to forget—when, my lady? Five minutes after you left London? Or was it only after you became a Toast? Rumours reach Holland also, you see, and your reputation has provided many a rank joke over slopping tankards in verminous alehouses.”
Quivering with wrath, she half-whispered, “Howdareyou?”
He gripped her wrist, and jerking her close, said through his teeth, “I dare because I fought the man who said you had been seen leaving Lord Wellby’s house unchaperoned at two in the morning! I knocked down the newspaper writer who named you hoyden for galloping your horse along St. James’ and scattering a herd of cows, causing a fine uproar. Like a fool I believed none of the gossip from Italy, but dreamed only of coming home; of finding you at last, and starting the life we had planned together.” Sadness came into his grey eyes. He added slowly, “I had such hopes… such wonderful plans to share with my little meadow sprite…”
It was the name he had called her when she was a worshipful sixteen and he a magnificent twenty-two. Naomi had to look away.
