Twenty

BY THE TIME CALLIE MANAGED TO EXTRICATE HERSELF from Major Sturgeon's suddenly ardent turn of mind, and Lady Shelford's strong rebuke over vanishing from Miss Poole's shop without warning, and Hermey's delighted description of the discovery of the perfect butter-spotted sarcenet for spring at a bargain price, she wanted nothing more than to sit alone in her room with a cup of tea and stare stupidly out the window.

Her excuse of a headache was no exaggeration- she was long over the effects of the bump on her skull, but the events of the morning had brought on a splitting pain in her temples. She sat down beside the window and requested the maid to close the door gently behind her after leaving the tray. Outside, the rain had come on to pour. Callie sipped her tea, staring with grim satisfaction at the cascades of water beating against the windowpanes. On the assumption that Trev was not going to be arrested, tried, and hung-not in the next half hour, at any rate-she hoped he drowned.

She indulged in a small reverie in which she piloted a rowboat, saving puppies and kittens and the occasional lamb from a raging f lood, ferrying them to warm safety while Trev and Major Sturgeon clung to trees, forced to await her aid, which she was in no hurry to provide. She finally got round to them, fighting wind and torrents in her oilskins, as she was stirring sugar into her second cup. Her headache receded as she treated herself to this fantasy. She disposed of Major Sturgeon in some vague but laudable manner and then found herself wrapped in a blanket with Trev, with water dripping from his hair onto his bared shoulders as he held her in his arms and kissed her fiercely…

She took a slow breath, dreaming. A sensation grew on her: a feeling of his presence, now that she brought the mute awareness to the forefront of her mind. A scent below perception, a still sound of life and breath-the things that the animals knew, and she knew too when she gave them the proper attention.

She looked up and saw the note placed on her pillow.

Abruptly she put the cup aside and strode to the bed. Don't be alarmed, the paper said, in familiar black strokes made from her own inkpot. It wasn't signed. It hardly needed to be. She dropped to her knees and looked under the bed. The space was empty. Callie glanced toward her wardrobe, but that was far too full of the hopeful contributions Hermey had made to her growing trousseau. She looked toward the door to her dressing room.

Irrational pleasure and rational consternation warred for a moment. Rationality won out and was all the more enraged by the moment of foolish weakness. She stood up and snapped, "Show yourself this instant."

There was no reply. Callie glared at the door. She refused to go over and peer into it as if she were looking for a mouse that had escaped round the corner.

"If you don't come out, I shall scream," she threat ened, her voice taut.

After a long moment, Trev appeared in the doorway. He didn't move into the room, but put his hand against the frame and looked at her under a sullen lowering of his lashes. "You wouldn't scream," he murmured. "I've never heard you scream in all your life."

He was, of course, perfectly correct, but that gained him no prizes in her estimation. "I beg you will explain to me, sir, precisely what you're doing in my bedchamber."

"Raiding your jewelry casket, of course. I already have a Runner after me and a price on my head, why not actually commit a crime?"

"Oh, have you a price on your head too?" Her eyebrows arched. "I hadn't heard that much."

"Courtesy of Colonel Davenport. There are broad sides pasted up in town. Seven guineas for my capture."

"Seven guineas! How unfortunate that I missed them. I might have turned you in and spared myself this visitation in my room."

He appeared a little taken aback at that. "I'm sorry-I know it's awkward, but my mother's taken it into her head that I must leave Dove House."

"I see," Callie said coldly. "And therefore naturally you felt my bedroom was your obvious destination."

"It's ridiculous, of course. I won't leave her again, though, and I need a safe place. Hide in plain sight, you know. I didn't suppose you would…" He stopped, looking as if he couldn't quite discover the tail to his own sentence.

"You didn't suppose I would object? Why should I? A gentleman in my bedroom-how handy. Perhaps you'll discover the cause of this chimney smoking when the wind is in the south. Or you might inves tigate the way the f loorboard creaks under the ward robe. Do you plan to stay indefinitely? I must inform you that I'm engaged to be married, and must leave you to your own devices if you're to be ensconced here after Boxing Day."

"I know you're engaged," he said, his voice going harsh and icy. "How could I not? You're the talk of the town."

Callie grew stiff. She turned away. "That is unkind."

She felt him come to her and stand close behind her. "I'm sorry." He touched her hair and slid his fingers down to her throat gently. "I'm sorry, Callie. For everything."

"Quite," she said, trembling. But she did not move away as she should have. "Do you never simply ring the bell and hand in a card?"

He put his arms round her and turned her toward him. "Are you all right?" He drew a breath against her hair and then passed the backs of his fingers over her cheek. "God forgive me, I've done nothing but worry about you after what happened."

She clenched her hands together, pushing away. "If you mean, was there any unfortunate result, no," she said, turning her back to him. "I can confirm that. So you need not concern yourself about it further."

She wanted desperately to turn back and cry out her anger and bewilderment, that he was married, that he had let her fall in love with him all over again and never told her. But then she would have betrayed herself wholly. Between him and Major Sturgeon, what silly vestige of pride she had left had been lacer ated enough. The one thing she would never admit was that she hadn't known all along. While she stood frozen, aching with the loss of his touch, she heard him move away.

"It was simply a… a f ling out, is that what they call it now?" she said to the opposite wall. The steadiness of her own voice surprised her. "I suppose I'm not the sort of person one would expect to f ling, but really, one must have one's moment before marriage, don't you think? As the horses have a kick before they're put in harness."

The dull, rushing sound of the rain drummed on the windows. She forced herself to unclench her fingers and turn toward him. He stood looking out at the down pour. His profile was silhouetted against the window so that she couldn't see his expression in the dusky light. As she looked at the straight, brooding lines of his face, she bit her lip. She could not expel him into the rain, at the mercy of Runners and broadsides. But she had no intention of allowing him to see her true heart.

He looked at her sidelong. "Will it be a harness?" he asked, lifting one eyebrow. "Marriage to him?"

"Certainly not," she said instantly. "That was merely a figure of speech. Now that I've come to know him better, I believe that we shall be excessively happy together. He's developed the greatest admiration for me. He-" She searched quickly for some evidence of the major's affection. "He brings me any number of posies and is forever kissing my hand."

"I see," Trev said. She glared at him suspiciously, in case he should be inclined to laugh, but he main tained a perfectly sober countenance. "Very gallant of him."

"Yes, and he said it would be cruel of me if I wouldn't allow him to make an attempt to win my heart," she added, to seal her case. "Just now, in fact, in the carriage, he said so."

"Oh?" He turned to face her, his features darkened by the light behind. "Then it isn't won already?"