and feared that he had seen too much.
Babette’s heart was racing. John had warned her to tell no one that she’d seen him and she certainly would not tell this man the truth. John had a friend he called Drew and his friend had been injured in a fight with the rebels, four of his friends already dead. The Parliament men were her enemies and she had no wish to speak with this man. Yet if she denied speaking with someone he would know she was lying and think the worst.
Lifting her head, she looked him in the eyes. ‘I do not see it is your business, sir—but I was meeting a friend, a man I care for.’
‘Ah, your lover...’ Captain Colby’s eyes narrowed, and she thought he looked angry. ‘Does your aunt know that you sneak out late at night to seek your lover? No? I thought not. Your uncle would not care for it, I think. He is a strict man and might forbid you his house.’
‘I intend to return home soon,’ Babette said, stung to anger. He would think her immodest now and for some reason that hurt and shamed her, but to tell him the truth would cause trouble for her brother and his friend.
‘You might have no choice if your uncle had caught you.’
‘As I said, it is none of your affair. I am naught to you, sir.’
‘No, but you might have been. I had it in mind to ask your uncle for you in marriage...but I do not care for tainted goods.’ There was a note of anger or perhaps disappointment in his voice as he suddenly let her go and swung away from her.
Babette caught her breath as he left her standing there. How dare he say such a thing! He was impertinent, arrogant. She would never have agreed to such a match. How could he even think it? Besides, her hand was not in her uncle’s giving, though of course her uncle might claim he had as much right as the guardian appointed by the King. Neither he nor this impossible man knew that her brother lived.
Her brother lived. Warmth soothed away the anger as she dwelled on the happy news that John was alive and here in England, fighting with the King’s troops. She smiled as she went back into the house, lit another candle and carried it upstairs to her chamber.
This time she drew her curtains and undressed, feeling ready for bed. Even though she soon drifted into sleep her rest was disturbed by strange dreams. However, when she woke they melted with the sunshine of another day.
* * *
Meanwhile, James walked on into the darkness, needing as he so often did the solitude that night provided. His thoughts were tormented, for though he could forget his grief for a time, losing himself in duty, when his work was done his thoughts turned always to the woman he’d loved so dearly.
His grief had lived with him for months, yet as he walked alone and looked at the stars, he could not banish the expression in the young woman’s eyes when he’d accosted her. She was startled, almost guilty. He’d accused her of having a lover. She had not completely denied it, though seemed outraged at the suggestion.
Why had he told her that it had been in his mind to ask her uncle for her? Had he wanted to punish her for being less than he’d thought her at the start? What had made him strike out like that?
Was she a girl of low morals? Despite finding her in such a compromising position, he did not believe her immodest.
Then why had she been outside and why did she not wish to speak of her reasons for being there? Was she meeting someone who would not wish to be seen by him?
Had she met a Royalist? In secret so that her uncle should not know?
The thought sent a shiver down his spine, for it would make her a traitor in his eyes...and yet, perversely, he did not wish to lose his good opinion of her. For some obscure reason, he would prefer that she had Royalist friends rather than her having been in the arms of a lover.
What was it to him what the girl did? James swore beneath his breath. She was but a chance acquaintance, someone he would never meet again. If he wished to wed, surely any gentle, obliging woman would serve his needs?
He had not looked at a woman and thought of marriage once in the months since Jane died. Why now? What was it about this woman that had made him suddenly stir to anger because she was willing to give herself so carelessly?
Damn him for a fool! He cared not what she had been doing. No woman could ever touch his heart again...and yet he would prefer to keep his good opinion of Miss Babette.
Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.
Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».
Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.
Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.
