the morning. She pinched out the candles and moved the solitary lamp so that the light did not fall directly upon her godmother’s face. However, Kitty herself was reluctant to go to bed. It was not late, the summer twilight was still evident outside the window and she was aware of a gnawing hunger. She would not risk disturbing her godmother by ordering a meal to be sent up to the room, so she decided to go in search of food.
The inn was quieter now, the noisy diners had left or retired to their beds to sleep off their potations and there was no one on the stairs as she made her way down to the ground floor.
She found the little parlour illuminated by candles on the mantelpiece and a branched candlestick on the table, where Daniel was sitting before a mouth-watering array of dishes. He rose as she entered the room.
‘Miss Wythenshawe!’
‘I came in search of supper.’
He pulled up a chair.
‘There is more than sufficient here for the both of us, if you would care to join me. Sit down and I will send for another plate and glass.’
In two strides he was at the door, calling for the waiter. She heard the rumble of voices in the passage before Daniel returned.
‘Our host has promised to lay a cover for you immediately. It should not take more than a few minutes.’
‘I am interrupting your meal.’
‘Not at all,’ he said politely. ‘I have only just begun and will now wait until you can join me. Will you not sit down?’
Kitty moved over to the chair he was holding for her and sat down with a quiet word of thanks. Daniel resumed his own seat and silence filled the room.
At last Kitty said, ‘You have not told us, sir, why you were travelling this way. This is not on your route back to Town.’
He looked down at the table, intent upon straightening his knife and fork.
‘I overheard your coachman talking. It seemed pretty clear that he did not think Leaconham would be fit to travel: I thought you might need assistance.’
The entry of a serving maid caused a diversion and they watched silently while she laid another place at the table. When they were alone again Daniel poured Kitty a glass of wine.
‘Will you take a little of the lamb?’ he asked her. ‘It is very good. You will note I have not ordered the oysters.’
Kitty chuckled.
‘We both know they were not the cause of Lord Leaconham’s malaise.’ She sighed. ‘Poor Garston. Poor Godmama! I doubt she has seen her son in that condition before.’ He made no reply. Kitty put down her glass. ‘I know you think him weak and foolish. After all he knew we were coming back this way to collect him, but have you no compassion at all? No, obviously not.’ She bit her lip, then said with difficulty, ‘I beg your pardon, that is unjust. You have shown great kindness in following us to this place.’
He looked across the table and held her gaze.
‘My opinion of Leaconham is not high. The man may go out and drink himself into oblivion every night for all I care, but to do so knowing that he was needed to escort two ladies back to Town, I find that foolish and irresponsible.’
‘You are right, of course. Which makes it all the more generous of you to look after us.’
‘I am not doing this for Leaconham, nor for your godmother.’
Kitty caught her breath, wondering if she had misunderstood him.
‘I do not deserve that you should be so kind to me,’ she said in a low voice. ‘Every time we meet I am impolite to you.’
The corners of his mouth lifted a fraction.
‘You certainly like to remind me of my place.’
There was a heartbeat’s pause before she spoke again.
‘I made an assumption about you on that first morning we met. I was wrong. I beg your pardon.’
‘And I beg your pardon for reacting as I did,’ he said. ‘Will you cry friends with me now?’
Kitty looked up to respond and found him smiling at her. Once again she was aware of her heart behaving erratically. Like a wild bird in panic, fluttering against its cage. The first time it had happened she had thought it the result of fear and alarm, because she had been trapped in his arms as he carried her through the mud. Here in this candlelit room there was no such danger.
Was there?
‘F-friends?’ she managed to say. ‘Yes, of course.’
She lowered her eyes and fixed her attention upon her plate. Nerves had diminished her appetite, but her companion’s quiet good manners did much to calm her. He wasted no time on small talk, but proved himself a considerate host, serving her himself and encouraging her to partake a little of each dish. She declined the roasted pigeon but managed to eat a little of the lamb and a few French beans, and by the time she had finished her glass of wine she was feeling much more relaxed and able to enjoy a small portion of gooseberry syllabub. She even accepted a small glass of Madeira wine.
‘I hope you do not suspect me of trying to make you drunk?’ said Daniel as he refilled her glass.
‘No. I know you now for a gentleman.’
His brows went up, but at that moment the servant returned to clear the table, and he said merely, ‘Shall we move over to the window? The armchair there will be more comfortable for you.’
Kitty hesitated. She was suddenly aware that she and Daniel were alone, and the chair he indicated was well away from the candles’ golden glow.
‘I should perhaps retire.’
‘Are you weary?’
‘No.’ The blood was singing through her veins. She felt more like dancing than sleeping. ‘No, not at all.’
‘Then sit with me for a while. After all, your godmother has accepted my protection for you both. And you yourself said I was a gentleman.’
The glint of amusement in his eyes as he said this made Kitty laugh and did much to ease the tension. She sank down into the cushioned armchair and sipped at her wine. He carried a chair across from the table and placed it opposite her.
‘I am not at all high in the instep, you know,’ she said as he sat down.
‘You surprise me, Miss Wythenshawe.’
‘No, really. Before, I would have mistaken your tone for condemnation but now I know you are teasing me, are you not?’ she looked up a trifle anxiously. ‘I think I have given you a false impression, and … and would like to explain, if I may.’ She wrapped her hands around her glass and braced herself for a confession, thankful for the dim light. ‘You see, I am … not rich.’
She looked up, waiting for his reaction. He said mildly, ‘I am not sure Harworth knows that.’
‘Perhaps
