Page 63 of Appointment in Bath

Meg no longer suspected she was falling in love with him. She was in love with him.

All those days they’d been apart after their kiss had confirmed it. She’d returned to the river on every one of them, hoping against hope that he’d be there to meet her. That the intimacy they’d shared would be enough to draw him back to her side, never mind that he’d told her he wouldn’t be able to see her again until the following week. Reason hadn’t mattered. Only unreasoning emotion.

That first day, when he hadn’t come, she’d succumbed to tears. But after that…

She’d made herself cross the bridge alone.

It wouldn’t do to spend the rest of her life frightened and pining. She wouldn’t be that person. She was resolved to face her fears. And if Ivo couldn’t love her…

Well.

Surely someone else existed who could. Meg only had to find him.

Chapter Eighteen

Ivo’s Christmas with his family was as all of their holidays together—boisterous, chaotic, and loud. It was made even more so by the discovery that Kate had invited a potential suitor to join them for an impromptu house party in the new year. Between the teasing, the questions, and the expressions of parental concern (mingled with guarded optimism), the focus had been well and truly off of Ivo and his doings.

It didn’t mean he’d been at liberty to get away. His family had put him to constant use, hauling in a yule log, chopping down a Christmas tree with his brothers, and climbing ladders to hang mistletoe, boughs of holly, and endless garlands of pine for Kate and his mother.

And then there had been Partridge to contend with.

Or Brutus, as Ivo had taken to addressing him.

“What was I to do, Master Ivo?” the unrepentant valet had inquired when Ivo had taxed him with his betrayal. “The honor of the family was at stake.”

“I would you’d have been less concerned with the family honor and more concerned with my happiness,” Ivo had snapped in reply. “All you’ve done is ensure I’m made miserable.”

“You may dismiss me, if you like, sir.”

“And have an even worse spy put in your place? I think not. But I’ll know better than to confide in you in future.” Ivo had leveled him with a menacing glare. “And if I find you poised to stab me in the back again, I’ve a mind to box your ears.”

His warnings hadn’t deterred Partridge from keeping a keen eye on Ivo’s movements as the season progressed, no doubt with a mind toward reporting those movements to Ivo’s older brother.

Even when the holiday was over and Ivo at last had a moment to ride out toward the river undetected, his sister managed to intercept him at the entrance to the stable, demanding his assistance in finding one of her miscreant cats who had disappeared in the attic.

Thwarted from his aims, Ivo grudgingly trudged beside her through the snow, back toward the house and another day without Meg.

His sister walked beside him, hands thrust into the warmth of a fashionable velvet muff. She was a copy of their mother—a petite, vibrant young beauty, with mink-brown hair and sapphire blue eyes. Her older brothers were largely hers to command and she knew it. But there were limits.

“Could you not have asked one of the servants for help?” Ivo asked crossly.

“They’d be useless in luring Tabby out,” she said. “He doesn’t trust them the way he trusts the family.”

“If that’s the case, you might better have asked Jack.”

“Jack’s gone into the village. I couldn’t wait on his return. If I leave Tabby to his own devices much longer, he may get stuck in one of the attic walls.”

Ivo made no reply, though he knew she was very likely right.

His sister flashed him a look. “Why so grumpy?”

“Because,” he said, “I require time alone on occasion. I’ve grown accustomed to my own company these two years.”

“Nonsense. You’re the last person one could accuse of enjoying a solitary state.”

“Perhaps I’ve changed?”

“I doubt it. You traveled Europe with Pershore, Quimby, and the rest of your university friends. And you returned with your guide in tow. How is the elusive man doing in his new post, by the way?”