Page 42 of The Case of the Curate

One of the footmen—not Lewis this time—was on duty by the front door and opened it for Mr. Newman.

“May I fetch your hat and coat, sir?” the servant asked.

“Not sure yet that I’m prepared to risk it,” Newman said, stepping over the threshold while Kate ambled across the hall. He stretched out his hands on either side of his body and regarded the thick, dark sky.

“What is the verdict, Mr. Newman?” Kate asked lightly. “Dare one take the air?”

He glanced back at her, smiling, and she thought dispassionately that he was a rather attractive man. Would Dinah have thought so? Would she even have been interested, given her situation and the fact that he was already married?

“I do believe the rain is off,” he replied. “If only temporarily. I’m prepared to risk a brisk five minutes if you are, Lady Ambrose. We’ll take an umbrella. But will you be warm enough?”

“I have my shawl.” She pulled the garment up from her elbows to cover her shoulders and followed him outside.

Gallantly, he offered her his arm, and she laid her hand on his sleeve.

“I did not see Mrs. Newman at breakfast,” Kate remarked. “I trust she is well?”

“Mornings do not agree with Margaret. She prefers to breakfast in her own room. But yes, she is perfectly well. Though she will not be so happy about the closed roads.”

“I hope it has not upset plans for either of you.”

“Oh, I am perfectly happy to stay longer.” He smiled down into her eyes. “The company is most charming.”

Good grief, is he flirting? Kate wasn’t quite sure how to tell, and to her annoyance, she felt unusually flustered. She had never had a London Season, and all the social gatherings she attended were serious political affairs with largely serious people much older than herself. She was used to flattery and manipulation—her own and other people’s—but not without serious purpose.

“Why, so I think,” she managed. “I have also met some very interesting new people.”

“I hope I number among them.”

“Don’t be silly. Have you forgotten we were already acquainted before we came here?”

He laughed. “Of course not. But it was my ambition to know you better. You are a very intriguing lady, you know.”

“Oh, no. I merely represent my husband.” It seemed a good idea to insert Gilbert into the conversation.

“And you are very good at it. Lord Chadbon himself holds you in considerable respect. No, it is Ambrose I don’t understand—sending you off into the wilds alone and unprotected.”

She laughed. “Wilds? Chadbon Court is everything that is civilized, a mere day away from London. And of course I am not unprotected. I am among friends.”

“You are,” he said, patting her hand on his arm. His eyes gleamed, both smiling and openly admiring. “I do hope you appreciate that. Husbands tend to take wives for granted. Others…enjoy.”

“I hope you do not take Mrs. Newman for granted,” Kate said.

“Margaret and I understand each other. Can you say the same of yourself and Ambrose?”

“Possibly. If I were to discuss my husband with anyone, which I shan’t.”

“Always for the best,” he said gravely, though his hand still lay on hers and his fingers were gently stroking.

It caused a novel sensation. She turned her head and met his gaze. “You notice women, don’t you, Mr. Newman?”

“Of course. Beauty deserves appreciation, not neglect.”

“I wonder, did you notice Lady Chadbon’s beautiful maidservant?”

“Which one?”

“Am I to take that as a no?” In fact, she would take it as a lie.