the other outstretched. Elinor took it, crouched lower and was safely through. Somehow her hand remained in his as they turned back along the path towards St Père and somehow it felt remarkably normal to have those warm fingers wrapped companionably around hers.
‘I will come at ten tomorrow and see if Aunt Louisa would like to call on the Count.’
‘It is her writing day tomorrow, it may not be convenient. She will probably wish to make it the day after.’ And tomorrow would be a free day for Elinor, unless she was required to redraw her basilica sketches. If Theo was not going to make his call…
‘It is, however, the day on which I am calling on him, so I am afraid your dear mama will just have to fit in with someone else’s convenience for once.’ She blinked, startled by the thread of steel in Theo’s tone. ‘I will come in with you when we get back, if you would prefer not to pass on that message.’
‘No, no, please do not trouble yourself. I will make sure she understands that any other day would not be possible.’ His chin, elusive dimple or not, suddenly looked really rather determined. Elinor shrank from the thought of finding herself in the middle of a confrontation between her mother and Theo.
‘Does she bully you?’
‘No. Not at all.’ He made no response to that. Elinor walked in silence, well aware that her mother did not bully her for the simple reason she never had any occasion to stand up to her. Given that she was on the shelf, and the alternative ways of life were so unappealing, she simply went along with whatever Mama wanted. What would happen if she ever did find herself in opposition?
‘We are nearly back; you had best put on your bonnet again.’ Theo fished another lace from his satchel and gathered her prickly roses into a bunch so she could tie on the flat straw hat again.
‘That,’ he remarked, flipping the brim, ‘suits you. We will save it from the bonfire.’
‘What bonfire?’
‘The one for your gowns and any other garment you possess that is sludge coloured.’
‘You are just as much a bully as Mama,’ Elinor remarked, climbing into the gig and waving away his offer of the reins.
‘Am I?’ Theo’s mouth twisted into a wry smile. ‘Say no to me, then, and see what happens.’
‘Very well. I will not burn my old gowns.’
‘What will you do with them?’
‘Give them to my maid, who will probably sell them.’
‘An excellent solution. See, no opposition at all.’
‘You are all sweet reasonableness, in fact.’
‘Of course.’ The horse toiled up the hill to the square below the long steep street to the basilica while Elinor tried, and failed, to come up with a retort that was not thoroughly unladylike. Theo guided it towards the hitching post in the shade.
‘No, I can walk from here, honestly.’ He looked doubtful, then clicked his fingers at a burly man lounging against the tree trunk.
‘Hey, you. Carry this lady’s things up the hill for her.’ The man caught the coin tossed in his direction neatly, then came to lift the sketching paraphernalia from the gig, shouldering the easel and waiting for Theo to hand Elinor down.
‘Tomorrow at ten, then? Thank you for my day.’
‘And for the new gowns?’
‘I reserve judgement on those until I see what they look like.’ She laughed back at his smile and set off up the hill, her porter at her heels.
* * *
Theo caught Hythe’s eye and nodded almost imperceptibly before the man set off in Elinor’s wake. He tipped his hat over his eyes, leaving just enough room to see under the brim, and leaned back against the backboard, apparently asleep. It was a useful trick, and had served him well in the past.
That had been an unexpected day. Unexpected, different and quietly pleasant. It had left him with the desire to set a match to the entire contents of his aunt’s study, though. Poor Cousin Elinor. No—he had started out feeling sorry for her, but that, he acknowledged, was not the right emotion.
She was intelligent, amusing, artistically talented and really rather lovely, if she could ever be brought to see it. On the other hand, her very unconsciousness of her looks was part of her charm.
Or was it just him? Certainly no other gentleman had shown her overt attention in the past or she would not have been so completely relaxed in his company. It seemed she vanished at will behind a mask that disguised her as spinster bluestocking and both she, and all the men she came in contact with, accepted that.
When he thought of the liberties he could have taken with her—probably would have taken with someone of more sophistication—he shuddered. The feel of her, her waist trim between his palms as he lifted her down from that chair in the church. Her hair, glossy under his hands as she let him handle it. Her total relaxation as she slept on the riverbank beside him. And her warm, long-fingered hand trusting in his as they walked back.
Through his narrow viewpoint Hythe came into sight, striding down the hill. ‘That the same cousin, guv’nor?’ he asked when he was up on the seat and Theo was lifting the reins.
‘The same. Why?’
‘Thought her a bit of a drab piece yesterday. Different today, bit of a sparkle about her.’
‘She needed some fresh air,’ Theo said. Fresh air, a change of scene and someone to appreciate her. Perhaps Count Leon would take a fancy to her; that would distract him nicely.
Was there any danger, taking his aunt and cousin into that chateau? No, surely not. Even if it were the count who had robbed him of the ch—the object. Even to himself he did not name it. It seemed hard to believe that he was the culprit, the man who had struck Theo down and murdered the old count, his father. If he was innocent, then the danger would come when whoever did have it attempted to sell it back to the count. Theo could send the women packing as soon as that happened.
His hand went to the small of his back where the pistol was wedged into his belt and then down to check the knives slipped into his carefully made boots. Things were safe enough now. His mouth settled into a thin smile that did not reach his eyes.
‘Good afternoon, Elinor.’ Lady James hardly glanced up from her work table as Elinor came in, a rustic jug with the wild roses in her hands. She looked around for a free flat surface, then gave up and stood them in the hearth.
‘Good afternoon, Mama. Did you have a good day?’
‘Passable. Those sketches of yours are acceptable, I do not require any of them redone. What was the church at St Père like?’
‘Of as late a date as you supposed,’ Elinor said indifferently. At least she did not have to spend any more time squinting into shadows in the basilica. ‘There are the ruins of the old church next to it, but nothing of any interest remains.’
‘You were a long time.’
‘Cousin
