She looked more pensive for a moment. “Not terribly well. Though, I must say, it was you who was most abused in the conversation.”
“I?” Frederick repeated. He had not imagined he would have played any part in the conversation between Lady Radcliffe and Oswald.
“Oswald happened to be at Trevenna when I arrived after our encounter?—”
“Behold me shocked.”
The only evidence she gave of hearing this comment was a little gleam in her eyes as they took a leisurely pace down the lane. “I soon realized thathewas upset over something.” Her gaze moved to Frederick. “He heard of my attendance at your party and was less than pleased at my unladylike behavior.”
Frederick’s mouth slipped open, but he forced it closed. “And was I blamed for your abominable comportment?”
“In part, yes. For you are a rake.”
A laugh burst from him, and she smiled.
“He has found me out at last,” Frederick said.
“WhileIam apparently too green to recognize it.”
“Naturally. I only prey on the most green and naive young women.”
Lady Radcliffe laughed softly, and Frederick felt an immediate hunger to hear the sound again. She had been intoxicating even when she disliked him; smiling at him and laughing with him, she was ruinous. If he had been the recipient of such smiles, it was no wonder Oswald was making a spectacle of himself over her, arranging a wedding date and heaven only knew what else. Frederick was half-tempted to seek out the vicar himself.
“I was adjured to stop associating with you,” she said. “You see, in sack racing and treating your injury, I have stooped to behavior below my station.”
“Well, then, the damage is already done, surely. There is nothing to be gained from cutting me off now that I have brought you down to my level.”
“Is that so?” Her expression was amused. “Oswald tells me I must allowhimto be the best judge of your sex in general—and particularly, men of the Town like you.”
Frederick nodded. “How fortunate you are to have an expert on matters of male licentiousness and depravity at your disposal. How ever did he come by his substantial knowledge?”
Lady Radcliffe’s smile grew as they reached Mrs. Penrose’s cottage and slowed their horses.
Frederick dismounted before his had quite stopped, then offered his hand to Lady Radcliffe, his heart pattering, for the last time he had offered such help, she had refused it.
She took his hand without hesitation, however, and slipped down from the saddle, her feet landing inches from his.
Their eyes met, and hers took him in with curiosity.
The moment made his lungs tighten, but it felt fragile, asthough any eagerness on his part might shatter it into as many grains of sand as there were on Trelowen’s beach.
“Look,” he said. “I have brought you down to my level yet again.”
The door opened, and Mrs. Penrose stepped outside.
Frederick released Lady Radcliffe’s hand, and they greeted the widow.
She looked better than the last time Frederick had seen her—less pulled and tired. That must mean the stile was doing what he had hoped it would.
She welcomed them inside and put on a pot of water to boil.
“How is your injury, Mr. Yorke?” she asked.
“Healing well, thanks to Lady Radcliffe and Mrs. Tonkin.”
“I am glad to hear it. Watching what occurred, I had feared your injuries might be even more substantial.”
“I am made of sterner stuff than I look, ma’am.”
