Page 18 of Appointment in Bath

“A wise course. One can never be too careful where mischievous devils are concerned.” He winked at her.

Meg started. No man had ever winked at her in her life! She didn’t know quite how to take it. Was he teasing her? Flirting with her? Or was he merely being impertinent?

But Mr. Beresford didn’t seem to mean anything at all by the gesture. No sooner had he made it than he at once returned to the true source of his admiration.

“Do you see those?” He pointed to the piles of rock that rose from the water, forming the bridge’s supports. “Slabs of granite, one stacked atop the other, with no mortar to bind them. A crude form of masonry, but an effective one. And those sheets of granite atop—thin but strong.”

“They look rather heavy,” she managed to say without stammering.

The smoothness of her speech was overshadowed by the triteness of her reply. She stifled a wince. Mr. Beresford was a gentleman of learning. He’d traveled the world. And all she could think to say was that the giant stones looked “rather heavy”?

What had possessed her to make such an insipid remark?

If Mr. Beresford minded, he didn’t show it. On the contrary. He greeted her meager contribution as cheerfully as if she’d been a thousand times more eloquent. “Tremendously, so,” he said. “The power it must have taken to haul them here! It’s no wonder certain of our forefathers believed it the work of the devil.”

“It seems a simple enough structure.”

“For a cyclops to build, perhaps. Can you imagine the sheer determination? The will to solve a problem, regardless of the effort and inconvenience it might take to execute a solution? That’s something missing in our rural citizenry today.”

Meg’s mouth flattened into an uncertain frown. She was a member of the rural citizenry. “You f-find us lacking?”

He smiled at her. “Not you specifically. You’re delightful.”

Warmth crept into her face.

“No,” he said. “It’s this propensity to simply accept things as they are.”

“What things?”

“The current methods of travel, for one. Given the skill of our ancestors, shouldn’t we be farther along by now? The Egyptians built pyramids. The Romans had aqueducts. And here we are, revering the past rather than striving for…for…”

“For what?”

“The moon? The stars? I don’t know.” He ran an impatient hand through his hair. His blond locks stood half on end. “For myself, I’d be content if Maidenbridge would be willing to entertain the idea of a railway.”

Her eyes widened. “There’s going to b-be a railway in Maidenbridge?”

“Not as yet. But there will be one day if I have anything to say about it.” He turned to her, fixing her with the whole of his attention. “How do you feel about rail travel, Miss Burton-Smythe?”

She took an involuntary step back from him. Looking into his face full force was akin to staring straight into the sun. She couldn’t manage it at such close quarters. “I’ve n-never b-been on a train,” she confessed. “I-I’ve never traveled at all.”

“Not even to Bath or Bristol?”

“I’ve b-been nowhere.”

His keen gaze searched her face. “Is that a fact?”

“I d-don’t know anyone,” she said. “If you d-don’t know anyone, you have n-nowhere to go.”

“On the contrary. You meet people when you travel. Why, I’ve been all over the world. You can’t imagine the people I’ve met. Some have remained faithful friends to this day. Others—well. They’re just amusing characters. The sort of individuals with which to populate your journal of an evening. You do keep a journal?”

“Indeed, I d-don’t.”

“Whyever not? Where else is a young lady to confide her secrets?”

“I have n-no secrets.”

“Bosh. Everyone has them. But you’re wise to keep them to yourself. It lends you an air of mystery. One looks at you and wonders—whatever can the lovely Miss Burton-Smythe be thinking?”