Page 46 of A Rogue's Downfall
Gray was a drab color, but it was a light gray and a light fabric. It was just as visible against the trunkof a tree as it had been up in the branches of the oldoak tree at the lily pond. He paused for a moment,looking at her. And then he moved up behind her andset his hands lightly on her shoulders.
She did not react for a moment. She must have heard him coming, he decided. He had been a littleafraid of startling her. And then she turned, her headdown, and burrowed it against the folds of his neckcloth while her arms came about his waist and clung asif only by doing so could she save herself from falling.
“Little bird?” he murmured and was answered with a storm of weeping.
Weeping women had always embarrassed him. He never knew quite what to do with them. He closed hisarms tightly about her, lowered his mouth into herhair, and murmured mindless nonsense to her. Hemight have been holding a child, he thought, exceptthat she was not a child. She was warm, slender, softwoman.
“What happened?” he asked her when she had fallen silent at last.
“Nothing,” she said, her voice muffled against his chest.
“Ah,” he said. “My neckcloth has been ruined for nothing. My valet will be thrilled.”
“Give him my apologies,” she mumbled. Her teeth were chattering, he could hear.
He leaned back from her a little and lifted her chin with one hand, though she tried ineffectually to pushit away. Her eyes and cheeks—and nose—were wet.Her face was red and blotched all over from cryingand a uniform red on one side. Most of her hair wasdown and hanging in tangles about her face and overher shoulders. She looked wretchedly unpretty. Andinexplicably and startlingly beautiful to his searchingeyes.
He drew a handkerchief from his pocket, dried her face and her eyes with it, and handed it to her.“Blow,” he said.
She drew away from him and blew. And bit her lower lip as he took the handkerchief away from heragain and stuffed it back in his pocket.
“Tell me what the nothing consisted of,” he said.
“I smashed all the wine bottles and glasses,” she said.
“Over someone’s head?” he asked. “How spectacular! I am sorry in my heart that I missed the show. Tell me what happened.”
She told him.
“And found yourself in massive disgrace with Her Majesty, I suppose,” he said.
“Yes.” She was regaining her composure as he watched.
“What happened to the one side of your face?” he asked, feeling fury gather like a ball in his stomach.He knew with utter certainty what had happened.
Her face trembled almost out of control again. “She struck me,” she said. “She called me a slut.”
Pistols at dawn. How he itched to be able to challenge the woman to meet him. Right smack between the eyes. That was where he would place the bullet.He would let her shoot first and then make her standthere in frozen terror waiting for him to discharge hisown pistol. And he would.
He reached out to set an arm about her slim shoulders and drew her against him again. She did not resist. She was shivering.
“I will avenge that for you, little bird,” he said. “My honor on it. Do you believe I have any honor?”
She did not answer his question. “I suppose I overreacted,” she said. “It was my fault, after all. It is just that I have never been struck in my life. And theface seems a particularly insulting place to be hit. Andin public.”
She pulled back from him and smiled at him.
“It does not matter,” she said. I will not be staying here long. I am going to teach in a village school. Myhome village. I will be among people I know. And Ithink I will enjoy teaching children. I shall be goingsoon.”
“What has happened to the young, handsome, virile, prosperous farmer?” he asked. “Has he withdrawnhis offer?”
She hesitated for only a moment. “I do not love him,” she said firmly. “I do not believe it is right tomarry without love, do you? What a foolish question.You do not believe in love. But for me it is not right.So my future is all settled. Myhappyfuture.”
“Is it?” he asked her. “You have been granted the employment?”
“I am just waiting to hear from the parson,” she said. “It is a mere formality. He is bound to say yes.He was a friend of Papa’s.”
Ah. Another impossible dream. Another humble, impossible dream. He smiled at her, picturing her forno fathomable reason seated in a rocking chair, herhead bent to the baby suckling contentedly at herbreast. The dark-haired baby.
