The Captain's Mysterious Lady. Mary Nichols
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Название: The Captain's Mysterious Lady
Автор: Mary Nichols
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Историческая литература
Серия: Mills & Boon Historical
isbn: 9781408916179
isbn:
‘Did you lose much?’ she asked.
‘A few guineas that were in my purse. The rest of my money and valuables I had concealed about my person.’
‘How clever of you!’ she exclaimed.
‘I do a great deal of travelling, Mrs Macdonald, and have learned to be as cunning as the criminals.’
She wondered why he travelled and if he had more knowledge of lawbreakers than he had admitted. He might even be one of them, for all she knew. Except of course her aunts had accepted him as being known to Admiral Lord Trentham, who had sent a glowing introduction. That, of course, could be a forgery. How suspicious and untrusting she was! Had she always been like that or was that something she had learned recently?
‘But you have not heard of them being apprehended?’ she queried.
‘No, unfortunately I have not.’
‘Tell me again about the man who died. What manner of man was he?’ Amy asked.
‘I know nothing of him. He boarded the coach with you and your tickets were in his pockets, so one supposes he was looking after you. He certainly bought your refreshments whenever we stopped.’
‘So I was totally dependant on him,’ she mused.
‘It would seem so.’
‘How did I react to his death?’
‘You were unconscious and knew nothing of it at the time,’ he pointed out.
‘How long was I unconscious? And how did I get from the overturned coach to the inn?’ she pressed.
‘I rode one of the coach horses with you in front of me. Have you no memory of that?’ he asked curiously.
‘None at all,’ she said swiftly. But that was her memory. A slow ride, cradled in front of him on a horse with no saddle. She had felt warm and protected, with his arm about her and his coat enveloping them both. She did not remember arriving at the inn, so she must have drifted into unconsciousness again. ‘How difficult and uncomfortable that must have been for you.’
He noticed the colour flood her face and felt sure she had remembered it. How much more was she concealing? He would have it out of her, one way or another, before another day was out. ‘It was my privilege and pleasure,’ he said, lifting his glass of wine in salute to her and looking at her over its rim.
Quizzing him was making her feel uncomfortable and she changed the subject to ask him what he thought of the village and its surrounds, to which he replied he had not yet had the opportunity to explore, but intended to do so when his business permitted, and on that uncontentious note they finished their meal with plum pie and sweetmeats.
He declined to stay in the dining room alone and repaired with them to the drawing room for tea. Noticing the harpsichord in the corner, he enquired if anyone played it.
‘I used to years ago,’ Matilda said. ‘But I have not touched it in years. Amy is the musician here.’
He turned to look at her. ‘Will you play for us, Mrs Macdonald?’
She went over to the instrument, sat herself down at it and, after a moment’s hesitation, played ‘Greensleeves’ with unerring accuracy and sensitivity. As the last notes died away, she turned towards him, eyes shining. ‘How strange that I remember that,’ she said. ‘I know I have always loved music, just as I know I love flowers and can tell their names and recognise birds by their song.’
He smiled. ‘That is a good sign, don’t you think. And can you ride?’
‘Oh, yes,’ she said eagerly. ‘I love to ride.’
‘Then would you like to ride out with me tomorrow and show me the countryside? I am sure I shall enjoy it the more for having you to guide me.’
She readily agreed and, having arranged a time for him to call, the evening was brought to an end. He took his leave and rode back to the inn, feeling more benign than he had done for years.
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