A silence fell again.
It occurred to her that he might be deliberately lingering over the ribbon. She wondered whether she might be the reason, if so. She recalled then that Brightwall’s rooms overlooked this part of the garden.
In truth, it mattered little. Being in love with Paul meant she felt disinterested benevolence toward all other men, and that included Brightwall.
“It strikes me as a rather bruising responsibility, being a hero in the public eye. One could get to feeling as though he could never put a foot wrong. And I imagine it would becrushingif word got out that one isn’t good at... well, everything.” She tipped her head very subtly toward her knotted ribbon.
To her delight, he laughed.
She never would have guessed that this fortress of a man would be so easily able to laugh at himself. It had to do with his unnerving and absolute self-assurance, she suspected.
“I’m admittedly better with weapons than knots, Miss Bellamy. In my defense, the point of knots is to secure something one doesn’t want to escape, and this one is performing its job exceptionally well. Perhaps what you need is a sea captain, instead.”
“Sea captains are particularly good at knots?”
“Yes.”
“We neglected to invite one to the party, alas.”
“Mr. Perriman would likely have found him more stimulating company.”
She laughed.
But all at once an epiphany swooped in. How disorienting it must be to step from the ceaseless clamor and tension and violence of war into a country house party teeming with pampered strangers. How did one pretend to care about pigeons after the brutal things he had witnessed and endured? The friends and compatriots he had lost?
She supposed anyone would stagger a bit to regain balance after laying down a heavy load. Even Brightwall the Beast.
Perhaps this accounted for the silences in their conversation.
And now his brow was furrowed over the puzzle of a pink ribbon.
An almost painful rush of sympathy swelled her heart.
“As your hostess, I hereby declare you entirely exempt from any expectation to amuse anyone for the duration of your visit. I would imagine that nearly everything seems trivial or even foolish in comparison to what you’ve recently experienced. A bit like a strange dream, I expect.”
He went still, then lifted his eyes to hers. They were surprised and almost wary, as though she’d uncovered a secret. He was not a man who would tolerate gushing, she suspected.
He seemed to be considering how to reply.
“I say this in all seriousness, Miss Bellamy: we fought that war in large part so women canworry about ribbons and Mr. Perriman can natter on about pigeons. It is in fact a privilege to stand in a shrubbery with you, fighting instead with a satin knot. I am grateful to do it.”
“Thank you,” she said shyly, after a moment. “For all of it.”
He nodded almost curtly.
There was a little silence.
“But when in doubt, just tell the story about the cat in a coat.”
He gave another little shout of laughter, then sighed. “Miss Bellamy, if you’d like to be freer sooner rather than later, I’ve a knife that will do the trick. But I did hope to save your ribbon.” He glanced up at her. “I know such things as ribbons and bonnets and crayons do not come cheaply.”
This concern for a ribbon was almost touching.
Or... perhaps it was more that he was familiar with her family’s financial straits.
At once this likelihood made her cheeks go hot.
He was here, after all, on a matter of business to do with her father.
