Page 9 of Appointment in Bath

“Another splendid idea. I thank you for it.” He caught her subtle glance at the street behind them. “You needn’t worry,” he said. “We weren’t observed.”

The tension in her shoulders eased a fraction. “How c-can you be certain?”

“I know when I’m being watched. I get the queerest prickle on the back of my neck. It’s saved me from peril countless times during my years abroad.”

Her curiosity got the better of her. “You were on the continent?”

She knew he’d been on his grand tour, but—despite the gossip Mrs. Church and Mrs. Stapleton regularly brought back to the Hall—Meg didn’t know the details of his travels.

“In Italy mostly,” he said. “Your brother is abroad, is he not?”

“He is. B-But he rarely writes." Roddy was too busy enjoying his freedom to waste a minute of it in relating his adventures to his younger sister. “It’s a p-pity for I should d-dearly love to hear about his travels.”

“I don’t mind sharing tales of mine, for what they’re worth.”

To Meg, they were worth a great deal. Village life could be stifling. There was little excitement to be had except for the variety she gleaned from books. “Did you visit Rome?”

“I did. But it was Florence where I spent the majority of my stay. I took a villa in Tuscany for a time, along with my guide Signor Ruggiero. He claimed he could teach me to speak the language like a native Florentine. Alas, he spent most of our sojourn half-seas at the nearest taverna.”

“Oh dear.”

“Quite. Fortunately, English public houses don’t agree with him half so well.”

“He accompanied you home from Italy?”

“He did,” Mr. Beresford said grimly. “His history is…complicated. Suffice to say, I’m endeavoring to make him fit for company before my parents return. They’re broad minded enough, but I can’t imagine they’d appreciate a drunkard roaming the halls, attempting to recite Ovid’s Ars Amatoria to my little sister.”

Meg cast him a glance of alarm. “Is he d-dangerous to ladies?”

“Oh no. Not to my sister anyway. Kate can look after herself.”

Meg knew Mr. Beresford’s younger sister by sight. Lady Katherine Beresford was a renowned West Country beauty. Only a year or two older than Meg, tales of Lady Katherine’s exploits abounded. She and Meg had never been friends. Meg admired her nonetheless. Anyone must do so. Lady Kate, as she was called, was a force of nature.

“It’s the signore I worry about,” Mr. Beresford went on gravely. “He’d never recover from such a set down as Kate would give him. Better I should sober him up and find him employment elsewhere. A boys’ school, preferably.”

The two of them rode on past the shops, turning down the country lane that led toward the village church and beyond. Meg leaned forward in her sidesaddle to give Rowena’s neck a pat.

“I beg your pardon, Miss Burton-Smythe,” Mr. Beresford said at length, “but does your father not employ a groom?”

She bent her head. “He d-does.”

“Is this groom, perchance, invisible?”

Her lips twitched with unwilling amusement. “N-No. He’s real. But…I d-don’t require him today.”

“Or last week? You were without your groom then, too.”

And paid the price for it, he might have said.

But Meg didn’t think he was scolding her. His manner seemed kindly enough. “I prefer t-to be alone when I’m riding.”

“I see.”

“It’s n-not exceptionable. Many young ladies ride alone when they’re at home in the country.”

“My sister doesn’t,” he said. “Not that I’m aware.”

The horses continued down the lane, side by side. Rowena’s gait was steady and sure. She required little guidance. Letchford Hall lay over the hills past the church. The mare could find her way back to the comfort of her home stable from anywhere in the county.