Page 21 of Appointment in Bath

“On the surface, perhaps,” he said. “But underneath—”

“No, indeed. I’ve b-been shy all my life.”

“You’re not shy. You’re inexperienced. It isn’t the same thing.”

Her fair red brows notched. “How can you tell the difference?”

“You’re here, aren’t you?” He slowed briefly in the center of the bridge, still holding her hand. Sefton bridge had no railings. The smallest misstep could send one toppling over the edge.

Her eyes went wide as she looked out at the river. An icy mist rose up from the freezing black water, making the moss-covered granite slabs slick under their feet. “Oh m-my,” she whispered.

Fog clung to the trees and shrubs on the opposite bank, shrouding the end of the path from view. They might have been walking into nothingness.

“Almost there.” Ivo continued on, gently bringing her with him—step by careful step. In no time, his top boots were sinking into the mud on the opposite bank.

Miss Burton-Smythe leapt down from the clapper bridge after him, a huff of laughter in her voice. “My heart is racing.”

An echoing laugh gusted out of him. “Mine too. It must be all this tempting the devil.”

“I warned you.”

“So you did.” He kept hold of her hand. Across the river, Snap and Miss Burton-Smythe’s mare watched the two of them with mild curiosity. “Shall we go back?”

“Yes,” she said.

“After you.”

She willingly led the way, a smile on her lips and a confidence in her step as they crossed back over. This time, it was she who jumped down first from the stones. Her cheeks were flushed pink.

“Well?” He made a show of examining her from head to hem. “Has the experience altered you?”

Her bosom rose and fell rapidly under his perusal. “I d-don’t know. Do I look any stronger?”

“Let’s find out.” He retained her hand. “Will you meet me for another ride tomorrow?”

Her smile turned wistful for a moment before fading away entirely. She slipped her hand from his. “I c-can’t.”

“You can,” he assured her.

“It m-may rain again in the morning.”

“But if it doesn’t…”

She shook her head. Regret was evident in her voice. “I have my duties at the Hall t-to think of. I’m to d-decorate for Christmas. If I’m out of doors at all, I m-must be gathering greenery. The servants will be with m-me. Timothy brings the c-cart and the m-maids and footmen help.”

“Then we’ll just have to confine our friendship to morning rides.”

“The rain—”

“Forget the rain. The snow will come soon. The river path is at its most beautiful then, all frosted over with ice.” He caught her gaze and held it. “I don’t mind it, you know. Your stammering.”

A flash of furious passion darkened her pale eyes to a vibrant Saxon blue. “I hate it,” she said. “I’m m-mortified whenever I speak.”

Ivo regarded her solemnly. She wasn’t a simple country girl at all, was she? A shy little wallflower languishing at Letchford Hall? She was complicated. Fascinating.

“You needn’t be,” he said. “I believe we do sometimes find words difficult when we feel too much. That you struggle over them isn’t a weakness in you. It speaks to your depth of emotion.”

She stared at him. “You’re n-not teasing me again?”