Page 43 of Appointment in Bath

Stark fury glittered in his face. “Was there or was there not a Beresford at the vicarage last evening?”

“Th-There was.”

“You dined with him.” He made the accusation sound as if she’d committed a mortal sin. Doubtless it was one, as far as he was concerned.

“I d-dined with Mr. Colfax and his d-daughter,” she said. “They had other guests as well.”

“A Beresford.”

“Yes.”

“You didn’t think fit to inform me of it when you begged my permission to attend this farce of a dinner?”

“What objection c-could you have had to Mr. B-Beresford?” Meg asked. “He isn’t, after all, his f-father.”

Sir Frederick leaned across his desk. “Don’t test me, girl. You know my feelings on that family.”

Meg clasped her hands in her lap, praying her courage wouldn’t desert her. “What of m-my feelings?”

He heaved himself to his feet to tower over her. His eyes burned with outrage, even as he grimaced from the pain in his ulcered calf. “You presume to have feelings for one of those preening jackanapes!”

Meg shrank back in her chair. A blush crept into her cheeks. Yes, she did presume. She presumed very much. Ivo had been fixed firmly in her daydreams—and in a few of her sleeping dreams, too—ever since the first day they’d met.

But that was none of her father’s affair. He had no right to examine the contents of her dreams—or of her heart.

“I’m not t-talking about him,” she said. “I’m t-talking about attending d-dinners and dances. Learning to c-conduct myself in company. I’m eighteen.”

“So you keep saying.” He grudgingly sank back into his seat, more to accommodate his leg than to retreat from the field of battle. His burst of white-hot anger, though temporarily assuaged, was in no way vanquished. “You will not dine at the vicarage, or any place that hosts any member of that family. Do you understand me? Disobey me again and the consequences will be severe. I’ve already written Colfax on the matter. The man should know better than to have allowed you to set foot into his house when a Beresford was present.”

“Mr. Colfax is a vicar. He b-believes in forgiveness.”

“He may believe in what he likes, damn him, but he’ll not defy my wishes. Nor will you, my girl. From now on, you’re forbidden my carriage.”

Meg’s mouth fell open. “What?”

“You heard me.”

“But it’s winter!”

“You have your mare for brief errands around the estate. For anything else, you can send one of the servants.” He picked up his quill “That will be all.”

Meg stayed in her seat. She wouldn’t be so easily dismissed.

He was forbidding her the carriage in December? It wasn’t fair! What of long shopping trips in the village? Or late afternoon or evening calls when the snow set in? She couldn’t very well ride Rowena in such weather. And the dainty pack on Meg’s sidesaddle wasn’t big enough to accommodate any purchases larger than a small parcel.

Her father was punishing her disobedience by stealing her independence away. It wasn’t being locked in the tower precisely, but it may as well have been.

She felt a tide of building fury in response to it. “If you want me to c-consort with gentlemen who aren’t B-Beresfords, then why have you forbidden m-me a season?”

“I’ve done no such thing.”

“You all but have. I’ve t-told you I’d like a season in Bath. It’s where I’ll m-meet someone whom I c-could marry. Miss Adams has said so. She approves of the p-plan.”

“Miss Adams is not my master.” He dipped his quill back in the ink pot and, shaking the excess away, resumed his letter. “It’s I who will decide when you’re ready to enter the world, not a servant. And not you, my girl.”

“Very well.” Meg played her next card with no little anxiety. “If I m-must remain in Maidenbridge, then I must c-consort with Beresfords. Lord Allendale’s sons are the only eligible g-gentlemen about.”

That regained his attention.