‘And yet you are no longer friends.’ The old man rested his clasped hands on the top of his walking cane and regarded her with faded blue eyes. ‘A pity to fall out with old friends. When you reach my age you appreciate the value of all of them.’
‘It is his birthday tomorrow,’ Dita said. There was a lump in her throat for some reason. ‘I … Perhaps I should buy him a present.’
‘What would he like, do you think?’ Doctor Melchett sat up straight, a twinkle of interest in his eyes.
‘I do not know. He can afford whatever he wants and it is too late to make anything.’
‘Then give him simplicity and something to make him smile. He does not smile enough, I suspect.’
‘The Noah’s Ark!’
‘That would make me smile if a lovely young lady gave it to me,’ the old man said with a chuckle, pulling the check string and ordering the carriage back to the shopping district.
After breakfast Dita waited until Alistair strolled out on to the deck alone. If he snubbed her, she did not want an audience.
‘Happy birthday.’ She could have sworn she had made no sound as she walked towards him where he leaned against the rail, but he did not start at the sound of her voice right behind him. Nor did he look round.
‘Thank you.’ She waited, despite her instinct to turn on her heel, and eventually he shifted until he faced her. ‘You are speaking to me again?’
‘And you to me. Kindly do not imply I have been sulking.’ She drew down a deep breath: this was not how she had meant this encounter to go. ‘You are the most infuriating man. I was determined to be all sweetness and light and in less than a dozen words you have me scratching at you.’
‘Sweetness and light?’ He smiled and she found herself smiling back with wary affection. Thank you, Dr Melchett. ‘That I would like to see.’
‘I would like to forget Christmas Eve, to put it behind us. I wish we could just be friends again and not think about who was to blame or who said what.’
His smile was wicked. ‘I would suggest that staying in plain view of at least three fellow passengers at all times might be a good idea if that is your plan. You might want to be just friends, Dita, I would be a liar if I said I did. And I am not sure I believe you either.’
‘Have you no self-control?’ she snapped, then threw up her hands. ‘I am sorry. Doubtless you are right. It was both of us, I know that. Can we not forget it?’
‘We could pretend to forget it,’ Alistair said, watching her. Could he sense how aroused he made her feel, just standing there? She had kissed his mouth, just there. Those long, clever fingers had touched her there and there and. ‘Would that do?’ he asked. Something in his expression made her doubt he intended pretending for very long.
‘It will have to, I suppose.’ Dita brought her hands out from behind her back to reveal the box. ‘This is for your birthday. It is quite useless—its only purpose is to make you smile.’
‘That seems a good purpose.’ He reached out and took it, his fingers scrupulously avoiding touching hers. ‘Local work?’
‘Yes. Best to open it over a flat surface and out of the breeze, I think.’
It was reward enough, just to sit and watch his face, intent over the box, his fingers delicately lifting each tiny creature on to the table, arranging them in pairs, finding the miniature gangplank that could slope up to the box. ‘Here is Noah.’ He lifted the final piece out and looked up at her, smiling. She swayed towards him a little, drawn by the curve of his lips.
‘Thank you, this is exquisite.’ He lifted a finger and touched her cheek. ‘It makes you smile, too. I hated that I killed your smiles, Dita.’
‘You did not,’ she said, stiffening. He had only to touch her, it seemed, and her self-control wilted. Attack seemed the only defence. ‘You have an exaggerated idea of the influence you have over me. If I have seemed sombre, it is no doubt because I have been reflecting on the folly of allowing myself to be attracted to a personable rake.’
‘Attracted?’ That smile was back. He must practise it to have such a devastating effect, she thought, fighting down equal measures of panic and arousal.
‘Do stop fishing for compliments, Alistair.’ Dita pushed back her chair and stood up and he rose, too, the movement of his linen coat scattering the tiny animals across the table. ‘Of course attracted. I would hardly make love with a man for whom I felt no attraction.’
‘Wouldn’t you? I really have no idea what you might do, Dita, if the fancy took you.’ The amusement had drained out of his expression, leaving it bleak and arrogant.
‘You are suggesting that I would—’ What? Sleep with any man I fancied, on a whim? She almost asked the question, then bit it back; she did not want to hear him say yes.
‘That so-called chaperon of yours, sweet lady though she is, just isn’t up to your weight, Dita.’
‘I am not a damned horse! ‘
Alistair’s eyes narrowed into an insolent scrutiny that had her balling her fists at her sides in an effort not to slap him. ‘No. You don’t need a jockey, you go fast enough as it is. What you need, Perdita my love, is a husband.’
‘Perhaps I do,’ she said with every ounce of sweetness she could get into her voice. ‘Perhaps, somewhere, there is a man who is not patronising, arrogant, domineering or interested only in my money or my body. On the evidence so far, however, I am finding that hard to believe.’
Behind them the door opened, bringing with it the sea air and the sound of shouted orders to the men in the rigging. Dita whirled round and walked out, almost colliding with Dr Melchett on the threshold. She managed a thin-lipped smile as she passed, intent on reaching the prow of the ship before anyone, anyone at all, spoke to her.
‘Happy birthday, my lord.’
Alistair looked up from collecting up the tiny animals. It took steady fingers and had to be done before they were scattered and damaged, whatever else he wanted to do. Like kicking the panelling or getting drunk. ‘Doctor Melchett. Thank you, sir. How did you—? Ah, yes, you knew Lady Perdita bought the Ark for me, I assume.’
‘I went shopping with her yesterday,’ the older man said as he sat down opposite Alistair. ‘Charming young lady. Intelligent, lovely and high spirited.’
‘She is certainly all those things.’ Alistair continued to slot each fragile piece into place.
‘You did not like her gift?’
‘Very much; it is a work of art.’ Dr Melchett was silent. Alistair recognised the technique: keep quiet and eventually your opponent will start babbling. He considered playing the game and saying nothing, but that would be disrespectful to an old man. ‘Lady Perdita is not certain she likes
