A Scandalous Situation. Patricia Frances Rowell

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СКАЧАТЬ least he looked English and familiar and ordinary in buckskin trousers and a neat coat stretched across broad shoulders. Reality settled once more into place.

      “There you are, Miss Kethley. I was just coming to escort you to dinner. One can easily lose one’s way in this great pile.” Just as he started to offer his arm, Iantha placed a hand on the banister, pretending not to notice.

      “Yes. I had done just that.” She smiled. “I seem to require much rescuing today.”

      His lordship grinned. “Our pleasure. I see you have met my friend Prince Vijaya. He has come from India to England with me to learn more about our country on behalf of his father, who is a maharaja in the district of Orissa.”

      At the door of a small dining parlor the Indian bowed again. “Your servant, Miss Kethley. If you will excuse me?”

      With no further explanation he disappeared down the corridor. Iantha looked questioningly at his lordship.

      “Vijaya prefers to eat alone.” Rob ushered her into the room and held a chair for her, then sat across from her. “Many Indians regard eating as something that should be done in private. Considering the table manners of some of our best people, one can see their point.”

      A smile softened her delicate face. He had been correct in his earlier assessment. His distressed damsel was beautiful when she smiled. Extremely so. And the old-fashioned dress seemed to suit her. “That gown is very becoming to you. You make me think of the younger portraits of my grandmother with her powdered hair.” Her smile faded, and she looked down at her folded hands.

      Hmm. Obviously he had erred. The lady must be sensitive about her hair. “Forgive me. I seem to have been less than tactful, but I think your hair is lovely. Do you dislike it?”

      The lady wrinkled her dainty nose, but looked him in the eye. “One hardly wishes to appear so old at the age of four-and-twenty.”

      “Old?” A bark of laugher escaped him. “My dear Miss Kethley, you could not look old if—” He broke off and shook his head. “Not under any circumstances whatsoever. You are much too beautiful.”

      “Now you are flattering me.” She cocked her head and raised her eyebrows, but the smile hovered around the corners of her mouth.

      Rob grinned. “Do you perceive me as a man who is skilled in flattery?”

      She considered him thoughtfully. “No,” she said at last. “No, you seem rather to be a man given to plain speaking.”

      “That I am, a plain man, and I am plainly stating that I find you unusually striking. May I serve you a glass of wine?”

      “Thank you.” She nodded her acceptance of the wine, if not the compliment, but a small frown replaced her smile. “I know the storm is raging, but… Is there no way to get a message to Hill House, to my parents? They will be frantic with worry. I did not even tell them….”

      “That you were going out? I wondered who allowed you to come up here alone.” Rob’s own smile faded. “I’m sorry, but I cannot set out into that blizzard. I would be dead in an hour.”

      “Oh, no! I do not ask that. I only hoped…” She sighed. “I was being foolish. Forgive me.”

      Rob started to reach across the table to clasp her hand, but just as the impulse struck, the slender hand slipped from the table into her lap. Hmm. It had not escaped his attention that when he had placed his hand on her back to guide her to her chair, she had quietly stepped away after the briefest contact. Nor had she taken his arm coming down the stairs. Apparently his rescued damsel remained a bit wary of her rescuer. And under the circumstances… Well, perhaps time and better acquaintance would cure that.

      “Nay, not foolish—understandably concerned.” He poured himself a tankard of ale from a pitcher. “It is certainly a very bad situation, but I see no way to remedy it tonight—and possibly not tomorrow. So you reside with your parents? Since you answer to ‘miss,’ I collect that you are not married?”

      “No. I am not.” She took an infinitesimal sip of wine. Little danger of this cautious lady becoming fuddled by strong drink. “I live with my family. My father is Viscount Rosley. I have two younger brothers and a sister still at home. I also have an older sister, who has married Lord Rochland, and an older brother in the cavalry.”

      “A hopeful family, indeed. Do you often drive out alone?”

      “Yes, frequently.”

      “And your parents do not object?”

      A slightly impish smile brightened her serious face. Charming. “I did not say they do not object. But they understand….” She sobered. “There are times when Isimply must be by myself. And I cannot bear to stay inside for long periods. So I take my paints and come into the fells and find something spacious and uplifting to paint. I had been driving for about an hour when the mishap occurred. I intended to paint the Eyrie in the snow.”

      “Ah. Now I understand the paint case. So painting is your favorite pastime?”

      “Yes. And I sometimes write a bit of poetry…and other things.”

      At that moment Burnside appeared with a large tray. He set it carefully on the sideboard and began awkwardly to place dishes on the table. “You’ll have to excuse me, miss. I ain’t no dab hand at this. We’ve been eating in the kitchen till the butler shows his front.”

      “Oh, my. I am sorry to be putting you to so much trouble. I would have been happy to eat in the kitchen.”

      “No lady is going to eat in the kitchen in my house,” Rob interjected firmly. “It is well enough for a rough fellow such as myself, but for you… No.”

      “Rough? Not at all. In fact, you have been the epitome of a gentleman.” Blushing a little, the lady laughed. A quiet, pleasant laugh. “In spite of a rather inauspicious meeting.”

      “I must admit I have never before been introduced to a lady at pistol point. A novel experience.” He grinned. “The experience has induced me to be on my best behavior, but that is bound to wear off.”

      But not too rapidly, considering the second pistol she probably still wore under her petticoats. The pistol notwithstanding, he saw something sad in the lady’s twilight eyes. Something that made him want to gather her into his strong arms and comfort her. To shelter her.

      But not tonight.

      Considering the pistol.

      He lifted the cover from a platter, revealing large rolls stuffed with sausage. “May I serve you some of Burnside’s excellent fare? And some stewed apples?”

      “Yes, thank you. What is that in the tureen? It smells very interesting.” She leaned forward and took a deep breath.

      “Lamb curry.” He lifted the cover. The aroma of meat and spices filled the room. “I am not sure you will care for it. It is very highly seasoned, I warn you.” He spooned some rice onto her plate and added a very small dollop of the curry. “I suggest you approach it carefully.” He ladled a large serving onto his own plate.

      She picked up her fork and took an appropriately dainty nibble. “Mmm. It is very good… Oh, my.” She gasped and reached for her wine.

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