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“Forgive my boldness—”
“Of course. Say what you will.”
“I admit to a degree of surprise that a man generally held as possessing so much courage would quail before the squire’s wife.”
He again felt that disquieting sense of amusement. “It is a mystery, that is true.”
“Or refuse to own up to who he truly was.”
“That, I’m afraid, was not my finest hour.” Conviction panged within. He cleared his throat. “I know our Lord does not look kindly on deception, and such I find abhorrent too. But if I may throw myself on your mercy, it was the talk of turtle dinners that did it.”
Her mouth twitched. “You do not like turtle dinners, sir?”
“I confess to feeling a great deal of compassion for the poor turtle.”
“As do I.”
The gig dipped into another hole, and her shoulder knocked his again.
“Miss Stapleton, apologies once more. I have long been out of the practice of driving such things.”
“I suspect wars do not lend themselves to driving carriages.”
“Very true.”
She straightened her skirts. “I feel it only fair to warn you that the general will most likely want to chew your ear off about matters pertaining to your campaigns in the Peninsular.”
“The general?”
“My grandfather, General Stapleton.”
“Of course! I should have realized. But things have been so busy lately …” He frowned. “He fought bravely in the action at Camden, did he not?”
“That was my father, Major Stapleton. He returned home and later died of his wounds.”
“I am sorry.”
She gestured for him to turn at the stone pillars and rusting gates marking a drive. They passed under low overhanging branches that doubtless would appear to best advantage in the autumn.
“Miss Stapleton, even with the very grave risk of sounding like a coxcomb, for Lady Bellingham’s words have filled me with fear, but is all the neighborhood so enamored of the exploits of Captain Balfour?”
“Nearly all,” she affirmed. “Such bravery is most remarkable. You will be quite the toast of the neighborhood.”
Perish the thought. He had no desire to be so feted. “I wonder …”
“Whether the truth of your name should be broadcast?”
“I see I was not mistaken about your quick wits. Yes. I have no desire to be lauded in such a way. I saw enough of it in London and cannot stand the thought of being toad-eaten anymore.”
“Poor man.”
He gave a rueful smile. “I suppose I deserve that.”
“What youdeserveis a turtle supper at Lady Bellingham’s, where you can regale the local notables with your exploits for the hundredth time, all the while endeavoring to look humbled at the thought of being so celebrated throughout the land of England, including here, in what some might consider the veriest wilderness.”
Amusement sparked again, threaded with appreciation. “Now that’s a setdown.”
“Oh, sir! My unruly tongue. I did not mean—”
