“Oh, I see,” she remarked and finally did as she was told, sitting upon the couch.
At last, Philip could follow suit, and he did — taking the other winged chair, which was as far from Miss Bright as possible.
“Go ahead, my lord.” This prompt came fromherand not the magistrate.
Before he could say anything more, however, she asked, “Are you truly an officer? Where did you fight?”
Frowning, Philip could hardly ignore her without insult although he didn’t particularly care to speak about the war, especially in front of a female.
“I am an officer, yes. A major—”
“Major Mercer,” she said, and to his astonishment, she chuckled softly. “It has a lovely alliteration.”
Was her father going to allow her to keep gabbing like a magpie?
The man had put his head back and closed his eyes. Perhaps he was sleeping.
In the next instant, he knew the magistrate was awake for he said, “My daughter wondered where you served, my lord. If you don’t tell her, she’ll only ask again.”
Philip found himself locked in a battle of the gazes with Miss Bright, who merely smiled and waited.
“Mostly, I was on the Iberian Peninsula with Wellington. I served with him at Vitoria and then right through the last battle at Waterloo.” For a moment, Philip’s sight was clouded by smoke and flames and men screaming.
“Waterloo!” Miss Bright exclaimed, drawing him from his reverie.
“Tell me,” the magistrate prompted, his eyes now open and narrowed, “what do you need from me?”
Philip cleared his throat. “To put it plainly, I have been wrongfully accused of ruining a young lady.”
Silence met his declaration. The irony was not lost on any of the three of them. After an excruciatingly long and awkward pause during which Miss Bright continuously flicked the edge of her paper with her finger, the magistrate sighed.
“Is that right?”
“Yes,” Philip muttered.
“Wrongfullyaccused, you say?”
“Yes, I do say. The accusation goes far beyond a mere kiss,” Philip added, wishing he hadn’t let his glance flit over to the last lips he’d kissed. Swiftly, he yanked his gaze back to Sir William. “The charge is far more damming, and I swear it was not I.”
The magistrate steepled his fingers. “I do not know you at all, and thus, I cannot take your word for it. Nevertheless, your service to our country goes a long way toward putting you in good standing.”
“I believe him, Papa,” Miss Bright chimed in. “He told me all about it. The young lady in questionwantedto be kissed, you see. His lordship merely did as she wanted. He has no reason to lie to me.”
“And did you also wish to be kissed?” the magistrate asked his daughter, holding her in his gaze.
Philip watched the young woman close her mouth firmly while her cheeks turned a perfect shade of dark rose. Just when he hoped she had finally gone silent for good, she sighed and spoke.
“I suppose I did,” she admitted.
Philip almost fell off his chair at her admission.
“But his lordship said he was going to kiss me because I looked kissable,notbecause I wanted to be kissed. It’s a brilliant distinction that I didn’t understand until he explained it.”
Philip wished he could clamp his hand over her mouth as firmly as he’d kissed it. She had no common sense, no awareness of when to hold her tongue. That was plain.
The magistrate’s glance flew to his.
Philip flinched.What could he do?
