free, but though she took a step back, she made no attempt to escape. ‘How was I to know that?’ she blazed at him. ‘You stood on that bridge, draped over the water like a…like a weeping willow, and said you were going to drown yourself! How was I to know you were playacting?’
‘A weepi—a weeping willow!’ he said, outraged. ‘You don’t know what you’re talking about! I wasn’t feeling quite the thing—I had a headache! A hangover, if you must know. But I wouldn’t be such a clunch as to do away with myself. Why on earth should I?’ He had glared at her. ‘And if I did, I’d find a better way than to try to drown myself in two feet of water! What rubbish!’
‘Then why did you say you would?’
‘I didn’t, I tell you.’ She opened her mouth to contradict him, but he held up a hand and said slowly and distinctly, in the tones of one talking to an idiot, ‘I was expressing unhappiness. I was just unhappy.’
‘Well, you deserve to be! People who are rakes and who gamble all their money away deserve to be unhappy!’
‘Gamble all my money aw—You are a lunatic! An impertinent, lunatic child! What on earth do you mean? I’m not rich enough to gamble any money away! Anyway, I won last night, damn it!’
‘A fine story! If that’s the case, why are you so worried about facing your uncle?’
The young man’s eyes narrowed and he said slowly, ‘You little sneak! You were eavesdropping—that conversation was private!’
Francesca was instantly abashed. ‘Yes, I’m sorry. I couldn’t help hearing it—I certainly didn’t do it intentionally. I really am very sorry. Please, please forgive me. I meant well, really I did.’ She looked up at him beseechingly. ‘I promise I shall forget all about that conversation, now that I know you don’t really mean to…to—you know.’
He was staring down into her eyes, seemingly fascinated. Francesca’s heart thumped, but she didn’t—couldn’t move. He muttered, ‘A lunatic child, with witch’s eyes…I’ve seen you in paintings…’ and he slowly drew his finger over her cheekbone and down her jaw. He held her chin and lowered his head towards her…Then he jerked back, and said in astonishment, ‘I’m going mad. It must be the hangover.’
Francesca was not sure what he meant, but said nervously, ‘And…and now I shall go home.’
‘No, don’t!’ He took her by the arm once again and marched her into a patch of sunshine. ‘I still want my explanation…You’re shivering!’
Francesca thought it wiser not to explain that this was due to nerves and reaction to his hand on her arm, rather than to feeling cold. She said nothing.
‘Sit in the sun here—you’ll soon be warmer. Now, where were we?’
‘I was telling you I’d heard you say you wanted to drown yourself because you’d gambled away all your money. And I was trying to stop you. But I forgot how steep the bank was, and I got carried down the slope and…and I pushed you in.’ Francesca was gabbling, as she often did when nervous.
‘I suppose it makes some sort of inverted sense,’ he said doubtfully. ‘I suppose I ought to be grateful that you meant well—though I still think I’d have been better off without your help.’ He looked down thoughtfully at his sodden clothes…
Francesca tried, and failed, to suppress a giggle. ‘I think you’re right,’ she said. ‘Much better off. You squelch when you walk, too!’ and, after another vain struggle with herself, she went off into a gale of laughter.
For a moment he looked affronted, but as she laughed again at his face he smiled, then he, too, was laughing. The atmosphere lightened considerably.
‘Look, let’s sit down here for a moment, and you can help me with my boots while you tell me the story of your life.’
‘Well, that’s a “blank, my lord”,’ she said, as he sat down on a fallen tree trunk and had stuck his foot out.
‘Where do you live?’
‘Down there, at Shelwood. With my aunt.’ Francesca tugged hard and the boot came off, releasing a gush of water over her dress. She gave a cry. ‘Oh, no!’
‘It will dry. Now, the other one.’ She cast him a reproachful look, but gingerly took hold of the second boot. She took more care with this one but, when it came away with unexpected ease, she lost her balance, tripped over a root and fell flat on her back. The second boot poured its contents over her. She got to her feet hastily. ‘Just look at that!’ she cried.
‘I am,’ he said. Francesca was puzzled at the sudden constraint in his voice. ‘I…I seem to have made a mistake. I thought you a child.’ He swallowed. ‘But it’s clear you’re not. You may be a lunatic, but you’re all woman—and a lovely one, too!’
She looked down. The water had drenched the thin lawn of her dress and petticoat, and they were clinging to her like a second skin. The lines of her figure were clearly visible.
‘Oh, no!’ Desperately she shook out her dress, holding it away from her body. ‘I must go!’
‘No! Please don’t. Your dress will dry very soon, and I won’t stare any more. Look, if you sit down beside me on this log I won’t be able to. We could…we could have a peaceful little chat till your dress dries. I’d like to explain what I meant when I was speaking to Freddie.’
She looked at him uncertainly. He was really very handsome—and he seemed to be sincere. Perhaps not everyone at Witham Court was a rake. But…‘Why did you call me lovely,’ she asked suspiciously, ‘when everyone else says I’m plain?’
‘Plain? They must be blind. Sit down and I’ll tell you why I think you lovely.’ This sounded like a very dangerous idea to Francesca. So she was at something of a loss to understand when she found herself doing as he asked. She kept her distance, however—she was not quite mad.
‘Is Freddie the man you were with?’
‘Yes—we were talking about my c—about someone we both know. He lost a great deal of money last night. He…he wasn’t feeling well this morning, and we’re worried about him. But you don’t really want to talk about this, do you? It’s a miserable subject for a lovely morning. Tell me about yourself. What were you doing when you saw us? On your way to a tryst?’
‘Oh, no! I…I don’t know anyone. I was drawing—oh, I must fetch my book and satchel! I dropped them when I ran down the hill. Excuse me.’
She jumped up, glad to escape from the spell the deep voice and dark blue eyes were weaving round her.
‘I’ll come with you.’
‘But you haven’t anything on your feet!’
‘So? I’ve suffered worse things than that in the army. And I want to make sure you don’t disappear. You’re my hostage, you know, until we are both dry.’ She looked at him nervously, but he was laughing, as he got up and took firm hold of her hand. ‘Where is this book?’
They soon found the orchid plant she had been drawing, and her sketch pad and satchel were not far away. He picked the pad up, still holding her with one hand, and studied it. ‘This is good,’ he
