Page 48 of A Daring Pursuit

“Breakfast just arrived for you. Along with his note. How do you take your coffee?” Pasha asked her.

“Rarely. How do most take it?”

“Lady Westbridge takes a dash of milk, no sugar.”

“I’ll have cream and two sugars, then.”

Grinning, Pasha set the peach frock aside, went to a table near the windows, and poured out a cup for her.

The fragrance of fresh scones had Geneva nearly melting to the floor. She almost tripped hurrying over—she was ravenous.She plopped a spoonful of currents then drizzled clotted cream on the largest one and took a huge bite. “You best have one of these,” she said around a mouthful. “They are delicious.”

“Thank you, I will. The note is on the tray.”

Geneva took it up and skimmed through it, wrinkling her nose. “I think I may need something sturdier than that peach silk. He wishes a walk. Feels the wind has restorative properties.”

“It likely does, miss. ’Tis your great luck my mistress left one of her sturdy walking dresses too. Perfect for a sturdy breeze.”

“Hmm,” she said around another mouthful. She swallowed then took a tentative sip of the coffee. It was strong enough to clear out any lingering cobwebs. “Goodness.” After a second sip, she decided coffee was most invigorating.

“Where is Miss Hale’s black gown?”

Pasha gave a delicate yet disdainful sniff. “I sent it back with the maid who brought your breakfast.”

A shudder rippled over Geneva. “Brilliant. My thanks.”

An hour later, Geneva descended the main staircase in a castle that seemed eerily quiet after all the hubbub of the last three days.

Julius strolled into sight from somewhere, meeting her in the large foyer. Neither said a word. He just opened the heavy, oak door and ushered her out into a brisk, cool wind. The Northumberland weather was as volatile as Parliament’s reaction to allowing women financial independence. She lifted her face to the cool breeze. It felt wonderful after the horrible day before. “Aren’t you concerned there is a killer about?”

He pulled up, frowning, then led her back inside.

She wished she’d kept her mouth shut. But to her surprise, he wound them quietly through the vestibule and down another couple of corridors and out an obscure entrance. “Will this suffice?”

“Yes,” she breathed. Apparently, he’d needed the air as much as she.

The path they took was a different one than she’d traipsed with his brother upon her arrival. This one was much closer to the sea. “You aren’t going to toss me over the cliffs, are you?” She was half-jesting.

He scowled. “That’s not funny.”

“Apologies. Inappropriate words tend to spring forth of their own volition when I’m beset with trepidation.” She let out a breath. “Actually, they tend to emerge regardless. I’m not known for my reticence.”

He grunted. At least she thought he grunted.

“Are you always so gregarious to women you’ve invited on a stroll?” she said in an attempt to keep things on a lighter note.

“Usually more so.” He slowed his steps. There was a long hesitation before the tension seemed to ease from his shoulders. “I hope you’ll forgive me. I suppose I’m treating you as I would a sister with whom I’m vastly annoyed.” He glanced at her. Assessing her reaction?

Geneva allowed a small, peace-offering smile and shrugged. “I’ve no siblings to speak of…” She cut her gaze to him. “That I know of,” she amended. “I’ve no idea how siblings behave toward one another.”

“Don’t you have friends who have brothers or sisters?”

“Yes, but I’ve rarely been invited to their homes. I grew up on Berwick Street in Soho. Some of my neighbors are of, er, questionable character.” She let out a sigh. “Let’s just say I try to reserve judgement, as I feel there are just as many good people about. Despite our humble beginnings.”

“What of your father? You’ve never spoken of him.”

And for very good reason. “Dead.”Almost certainly.

“Oh.”

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