Page 55 of The Smuggler’s Escape

Then he turned right back to Dorothea. “How is your father doing? It’s a pity he couldn’t come down here with you. He’s a busy man, though. I quite understand.”

“I wish he were here.” Dorothea’s heartfelt tone startled Noelle, as did her wistful expression. “He’s in Portsmouth this week. Shall I give you his direction? Perhaps you could persuade him to visit, if only for a day.”

“I shall certainly try.” Richard produced a scrap of paper and a pencil stub, and Dorothea wrote the direction.

They went on to discuss another of Mr. Blake’s poems. It must be the newest rage. Once she had her salon, Noelle would be au courant with every fashion.

She would begin a new life somewhere on the continent. Amsterdam, where Richard had dwelt? Perhaps as a first step, but she would rather settle in Vienna, as old Boltwood had suggested. Some distant cousins who had escaped the Revolution lived there.

Noelle yawned ostentatiously and turned to Lord Harry. “Do you read the poems of this man Blake?”

Harry grinned. “Not I.”

“Thank heavens for that. Listening to a discussion of poetry one has never read is such a bore.” Immediately, Noelle regretted this gauche remark, but it was too late to take it back.

Lucretia threw her a reproachful look. Even more annoyed now, Noelle threw herself headlong into a flirtation with Lord Harry. She ignored her uncle’s disapproving glances and Lady Darsington’s cold stares. Soon she would leave, and she wouldn’t have to deal with any of these people ever again.

Richard’s foot touched hers under the table. His boot, rather, brushed her shoe, but their feet might as well have been bare, for the shock it sent through her.

She recovered herself. Merely an accident, that’s all it was. She moved her foot away.

Richard was speaking to Dorothea, but Noelle saw with dismay a telltale twitch in his cheek. He lounged back in his chair, toying with his tankard. His posture was rude enough to earn a frown from his mother and a scowl from Uncle Matthew, but Richard didn’t care.

A moment later his foot encountered hers again.

She tucked it away beneath her skirts, but a few moments later, he found it again.

She shoved at his boot, but it didn’t budge.

She glared at him, shifted her position, and raised her foot to stamp down on his with her heel.

Richard hooked his foot behind her ankle and yanked her off balance. She grabbed wildly to right herself, but Richard was already there, one capable hand catching her chair and another on her arm. He settled her back on her seat. “Are you all right, my love? Perhaps there is something wrong with that chair. I must tell the landlord before someone gets hurt.”

“I’m perfectly fine, chéri.” Noelle withdrew her arm. “The chair is fine as well. Please do not blame an innocent chair for my clumsiness. What a happy chance you were here to save me.”

“Happy indeed, oh my treasure,” Richard said. “I shudder to think of the consequences, had I not been here to catch you.”

“Consequences, oh king of my heart? Surely nothing that matters. I have taken many a tumble from a horse, and never been injured.”

“You were fortunate, my intrepid dove. But one never knows when a steed will show his temper, does one?”

Lord Harry, beside her, made a muffled noise.

Noelle reddened. She hunched a shoulder at Richard. Jealous, was he?

No, only a dog guarding a tasty bone.

Richard smiled coldly and said, “My darling, I must leave to take care of another pressing commission. I’ll rescue you from Madame Lisette’s in due course, and we shall complete our other business.”

Noelle gave him a baleful stare. “Shall we?”

“Indeed, we will,” Richard said.

He went on as if she had smiled and thanked him. “Perhaps you should take my seat and have a comfortable coze with Miss Darsington.”

Not a suggestion, but an order.

“I’d prefer to leave you on a safer chair,” he added.