Page 79 of Appointment in Bath

There was no point in denying it to himself. But he had no intention of frightening her off. He was resolved to treat her with respect.

He offered his hand to assist her over the stile. “Can you manage in that dress?”

“Yes, thank you. I d-don’t require assistance.” Ignoring his offer of help, she climbed the steps unaided, skirts clutched in her hands. She passed over the top, descending safely to the opposite side.

Ivo was treated to a brief glimpse of her slim, silk-stocking-clad legs.

He was tempted to follow her. To walk with her the rest of the way to the Hall. There was nothing stopping him. Not his parents or his older brother or even Sir Frederick. Nevertheless…

Tonight, he remained firmly on his side of the barrier.

“Please let’s don’t end the evening on a quarrel,” he said. “You must know I’d never do anything to hurt you.”

Meg lingered long enough to look at him. “I know you m-meant well.”

“I did.” Ivo was beginning to realize just how naïve he’d been. “I’m only sorry you didn’t have a better time. I’d hoped you would enjoy yourself a little.”

“I know that. I’m—” Her voice faltered. She quickly recovered herself. “I’m obliged to you for thinking of me.”

He gave her a lopsided smile. “I always think of you.”

Her mouth tilted faintly in return. There was something infinitely sad in the small gesture. Something Ivo couldn’t quite put his finger on.

But now wasn’t the time to interrogate her.

The full moon shimmered in the midnight sky. It was nearly eleven. She really should be getting home and so must he. He’d call on her at Letchford Hall in a few days’ time, when the dust had settled and they were both of them thinking clearly again. A formal call this time, with no pretexts about it.

Until then, he must be satisfied that she hadn’t completely broken things off with him. “Goodnight, Meg,” he said.

“Goodbye, Ivo,” she replied.

He remained on his side of the stile for a long while, watching her march off across the pasture in the direction of the torchlights that marked the drive of Letchford Hall. She soon disappeared from view, lost in the icy darkness.

Ivo turned back toward Beasley Park. It wasn’t until he was home again that he realized she hadn’t said goodnight to him.

She’d said goodbye.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Meg passed through the cobbled yard unnoticed. It was dark and empty, with no servants lingering outside to smoke or to use the privy. The Letchford Hall kitchens, by contrast, were aglow with lamplight. It shone from the windows, offering an ominous warning, as Meg approached.

She knew before entering what she would find there.

Had the evening gone better, Meg might have been less reluctant to face it. Scolding, scandal, and inevitable punishment was a small price to pay for a few hours of pleasure in Ivo’s arms.

But she’d had no pleasure tonight, only pain. She’d said goodbye to Ivo, for heaven’s sake. She nevertheless must face what awaited her within, no matter how terrible it might be.

Slipping into the house, she found Mrs. Church and Mrs. Stapleton seated at the kitchen table, nursing cups of tea, and very obviously awaiting Meg’s return.

Meg set her shoulders. If she must be caught out, she’d rather bear the shame with dignity than allow the threat of ruination to reduce her to tears. Unfortunately, there was only so much countenance a lady could preserve when her teeth were chattering like mad.

Mrs. Stapleton immediately rose from the table and rushed to Meg’s aid. “Frozen through!” she exclaimed. “And wet skirts besides. You’ll surely catch your death.”

“If she hasn’t done so already.” Mrs. Church came to assist the cook in divesting Meg of her wet outer garments. “I do hope he was worth it, miss. To have risked your honor and very likely your life in order to take the moonlight with a good-looking lad.”

“I can guess who it was.” Mrs. Stapleton clucked as she stripped off Meg’s gloves. “When your father hears of it, we’ll be lucky if it doesn’t send him to an early grave.”

“Hush,” Meg said sharply. Shrugging off the two servants, she went to the fireplace. Flames blazed the stone hearth, casting shadows over the slate floor. Sitting down, she began to remove her sodden boots. “Neither of you know what you’re t-talking about.”