Pursued For The Viscount's Vengeance

‘True, but he is staying at the George, which is not cheap, and Sir Geoffrey thinks he is a very good sort of man. I could ask him to make enquiries, if you wish.’

‘No, no, I pray you will not do that,’ said Deb, hastily. ‘I assure you, I have no interest in the gentleman at all.’

If her hostess did not quite believe her, Deb was thankful that she was too polite to say so.

‘Well, I was pleased to see you enjoying yourself last evening, as I am sure all your friends were,’ was all Lady Gomersham said, nodding so that her greying curls danced around the edges of her lace cap. ‘You spend too much time worrying about that brother of yours.’

‘But there is no one else to worry about him,’ Deb argued, a small cloud dimming her sunny spirits when she thought of Randolph.

‘Lord Kirkster is a grown man now, my dear. You should look to your own happiness.’

The look on the older woman’s face said as clearly as words that she thought Deborah should not allow the chance of getting a husband to slip through her grasp. But Deborah would never marry without love and she was determined not to risk her heart again. Once was quite enough. Just the memory of it made it necessary for her to repress a shudder.

‘I am perfectly happy, ma’am, thank you.’

And she was, Deb told herself as she took her leave. She loved her brother deeply, and she had promised Mama she would look after him. There could be no happiness if she did not honour that promise.

She thought again of the assembly, of dancing with the stranger. No, not a stranger, not any more, but she would not allow herself to be carried away by daydreams. The elation she had felt last night was the fleeting sort and she knew better than to make too much of it.

However, when she turned into the High Street and saw Mr Victor striding towards her she could not help a little kick of excitement and a quickening of the pulse. They could not avoid one another, even if they wished to do so. He stopped and tipped his hat.

‘Miss Meltham.’

The warm smile in his eyes sent her heart skittering in her chest and she felt so breathless it was a struggle to greet him.

‘Are you running errands this morning?’ he asked her.

‘I called upon Lady Gomersham and now I am going home.’

‘Then I will escort you, if you will allow me.’

Instinct warned Deborah to make some excuse, but she ignored it. She inclined her head in tacit acquiescence and he turned to walk beside her.

What harm can it do? she reasoned. They were merely walking together; they were not even touching.

But, oh, how she wanted to touch him! How she wanted to rest her hand on his sleeve and feel the strength of his arm, as she had done last night. But the conduct permissible in the ballroom would be frowned upon in the public street, so she had to be content to walk beside him.

The streets were busy and it seemed to Deborah that all her friends and acquaintances were out of doors, smiling and nodding when they saw her. She returned their smiles, knowing that gossip would be rife by the morning.

‘You are very well known in Fallbridge, Miss Meltham.’

‘It is my home, sir.’

‘But you have a house in Liverpool, too, do you not? I should have thought that would have been your preference. After our conversation over supper the other night I know your lively mind enjoys the arts and theatre.’

She did not reply and he asked her what had influenced her to live in this small market town. She considered her words carefully before answering.

‘When Randolph and I were children our time was divided between here and the house in Liverpool. Mama loved Fallbridge, but Papa still had some interest in the shipping company that our grandfather started and was obliged to be in Liverpool for several months of each year. We always went with him. It was very different from Fallbridge and we did not have the freedom of the country, but the house was so large Ran and I could spend hours playing hide and seek, from the attics to the cellars.’ She laughed. ‘I have no doubt the servants thought us a veritable nuisance!’

‘It sounds like a very happy childhood.’

‘It was.’ She stopped, swallowing a sigh as she wished it was possible to return to those carefree days.

‘And now you live alone with your brother?’

‘Yes.’ She nodded.

‘And your mother?’

‘She died just a year after Papa. She had been in poor health for a long time.’

‘I am very sorry. Who—?’

He broke off and she looked up at him, brows raised.

‘Yes? What were you going to ask, sir?’

‘Forgive me if I am impertinent, but did you not need a chaperon, if your mother was so ill?’

‘A widowed aunt had lived with us for years and continued to do so for a while after Mama died. Now, of course, I have Randolph.’

She said no more. He did not need to know Ran had insisted they live alone, that he was too ashamed to have anyone other than Deborah know of his addictions.

Mama had always planned for Deb to make her come-out in London under her aunt’s aegis and they would take Ran with them. But that had been postponed because of Papa’s ill health and when he died Deb had given up her dreams of a glittering presentation. By then Ran was already drinking and gambling to excess and she had been afraid to expose him to the temptations of the capital. She had always hoped that at Oxford he would make new, more sober friends and grow out of his excesses. A vain hope, she realised now.

‘And now you live here most of the year.’

‘Yes.’ Should she say more? ‘You may think it odd that a young man like my brother would choose to live in such a small out-of-the-way place. Randolph suffers from, from ill health. It is better that we live quietly.’

‘I see.’

There was such a wealth of sympathy in the two words that Deb was tempted to tell him everything, to unburden herself of the cares and worries that beset her. But, no. He was little more than a stranger, after all, and Randolph did not like her discussing family matters.

‘Your brother is lucky to have such a devoted sister.’

‘Anyone would do as much.’ She added lightly, ‘And Fallbridge really is a very agreeable town. We have everything we need here for entertainment. The countryside is very fine, there is some hunting to be had in the season. And we are not ten miles from the coast.’

‘Yes, I have noticed you have the benefit of bracing sea air,’ he commented as the wind made a sudden snatch at his hat.

Deb laughed. ‘Very bracing!’

She put a hand up to her face. Several wisps of hair had escaped and were curling about her face. She tried to tuck them back under her bonnet.

‘No, don’t do that.’ Her fingers stilled. He added softly, ‘It suits you.’

Her cheeks flamed and she walked on quickly, unable to think of a suitable reply.

‘Do you know,’ he continued, in a conversational tone, ‘I have made myself familiar with the local rides around here, but I have not yet been to the coast.’ He stopped and turned to face her. ‘Do you ride, Miss Meltham?’