Page 78 of Appointment in Bath

She marched on at an accelerated pace. In her haste, she forgot to hold firm to her skirts. Her hem dragged in the snow.

He easily caught up with her. “Slow down, would you? You’ll ruin your dress.”

“More would be ruined than m-my dress if my father discovers I’m gone. I m-must get home before the servants realize—”

“Please. I know you’re angry with me, but—”

She whirled around to face him. “What were you thinking, Ivo? To surprise me that way? Didn’t it occur to you that you were making everything worse?”

His stomach sank to his top boots. He made a valiant attempt at optimism. “I thought the evening came off rather well, all things considered.”

“Oh yes. Your father only h-hates me. And your b-brother hates me m-more. A great success.”

“They don’t hate you. It’s me they’re upset with.” Indeed, Ivo fully expected they’d be waiting for him upon his return, a severe lecture at the ready. He wasn’t much looking forward to hearing it.

She resumed walking, gloved hands clenched at her sides. “The way they looked at me.”

He kept pace at her side. “It was nothing personal. They’re just stuck in the past, that’s all. Now they’ve met you, it’s just a matter of time before they come round.”

“They n-never will, can’t you see that?”

“I strongly disagree.” By foisting Meg on them, Ivo had forced them to face the truth about her. It had been the only way. They’d never have welcomed her otherwise. Their opinions about the Burton-Smythes were too firmly entrenched.

Painful as the evening might have been, it had been necessary. Now, they could finally all move forward. He said as much to Meg as they walked, trying his best to explain his reasoning. Though surely it should be obvious?

She shook her head, not seeming to hear him. “We shouldn’t have done it. Spent so much time together all those days before Christmas. We should have realized that friendship was impossible.”

He caught her arm, compelling her to stop. They were at the top of the rise, only yards away from the stile. It was the last barrier before they arrived at Letchford Hall.

“Please don’t say that,” he told her.

She looked up at him in the moonlight. Her face was taut, her pale blue eyes luminous with the threat of tears. “Why n-not if it’s true?”

“It’s not true. Meeting you that day at Sefton Bridge was the best thing that ever happened to me.” His voice deepened with gruff sincerity. “I treasure your friendship, Meg.”

She flinched.

“I do,” he insisted. “And I’m sorry if I hurt you.” He said it again for good measure. “I’m sorry. It was dashed selfish of me. I wanted so badly to dance with you, I didn’t think of anything else. Only of how merry it would be to have you at Beasley with me. I so wanted to see you there, my own dear, sweet friend.”

Meg’s mouth quivered. For an instant it looked as though she was going to cry.

Ivo felt a jolt of alarm. Good lord, what had he said now?

She walked on again before he could ask her, arms folded in front of her.

He silently cursed himself. Bloody hell. He seemed to have made it worse. He stalked after her. “You’d think we’d committed a crime.”

“We have,” she said. “If d-disobedience is a crime.”

He thrust his hands into his pockets. “Disobedience?” he repeated with a scornful huff. “We’re no longer children. You’re eighteen and I’m three and twenty. I think we can decide who our friends are.”

Meg didn’t reply. But she didn’t refute him either.

They were friends. This wasn’t some superficial infatuation, fallen into because she was soft and pretty. Granted, she was both of those things. But that wasn’t the reason she’d come to fix herself so firmly in Ivo’s heart.

He liked her intensely. Her kindness. Her spirit. The way she laughed and teased him. He adored the glints of courage she possessed that were only recently beginning to glimmer through. Above all, he wanted her to shine.

He wanted her.