Page 9 of Until I’m Safe in Your Arms

Alex’s face must have given away his dismay, for his uncle gave out a great laugh and clapped him on the back. “Another time, Braeton. My nephew is impatient to join the ladies. Gentlemen, if you will finish your port and extinguish your cigars, we’ll head to the drawing room. There’s a dish of peppermints by the door for those who wish to assure they have pleasing breaths for the fairer sex.”

Not a bad idea, that. Even though he didn’t smoke, Alex grabbed a peppermint from the footman’s basket and popped it into his mouth. One never knew when a lady’s sensibility would need to be appeased.

They proceeded down the corridor, up the stairs, and into the drawing room. During their march, Alex had hung back until he was about midway down the procession. No need to seem as eager as he felt. As soon as he entered the room, however, his gaze darted quickly around the pleasant chamber, decorated in a more feminine scheme of pink and green, searching for Miss Washer. He discovered her, teacup in hand, standing by the banked fireplace, and immediately headed toward her.

“Ah, Miss Washer, I can scarcely contain my excitement at finally being able to speak with you once more.” Alex bowed, smiling broadly. “Dinner may have been delicious, but it would have been much better had we not been so far removed from one another.”

“I believe I must agree with that sentiment, Captain Bancroft.” She lifted her face to his, her intriguingly blue eyes gazing deeply into his. “I fear my lack of status will keep us apart during meals here.”

“I could speak to my aunt and uncle about that.” He’d contemplated that during dinner, in fact. “Ask for at least one evening when we may sit where we choose.”

“That would be wonderful.” Miss Washer nodded toward the sideboard where several teapots, cups, and saucers sat. “Would you like some tea?”

“Yes, I think I shall.” Alex started toward the table, fully intending to pour his own, but Miss Washer quickened her pace and arrived first.

“Allow me, Captain.” She set her cup down, picked up another in that hand and a teapot with the other, and poured very prettily.

He could get used to seeing that sight each morning and evening.

“Milk and sugar?” Her voice lilted upward and a streak of heat shot through Alex’s body, lodging squarely in his groin.

“Yes, please,” he said breathlessly.

She smiled up at him as she plopped two lumps of sugar into the cup and added a splash of milk. “Shall we sit and continue our conversation from this afternoon? I’m certain you have much more to tell me about your time in the Crimea.”

Nodding, he led her to an isolated grouping of a Queen Anne chair and chaise near the French windows that gave onto the back gardens. The perfect place for a confidential conversation. Miss Washer sat squarely in the middle of the green jacquard chaise, leaving him the chair. Once he was seated, he sipped his tea, which was excellently done, and leaned toward the lady. “Please allow me to inquire about you, Miss Washer. We seemed to have spoken only about me this afternoon, and I am eager to discover as much about you as you have about me. You are a lady of mystery to me at present.”

To his consternation, her eyes grew wide, she appeared to stiffen, and grasped her teacup in a vise-like grip. What the devil was the matter with his simple request?

*

Emma had known he would want to learn more about her. Had dreaded it, in fact. She’d also known there was no way to escape giving Captain Bancroft at least some information about her circumstances. The little bits of conversation she’d practiced aloud in her room this afternoon rose immediately to her lips. She could only pray they would be enough. “What would you like to know, Captain?”

“Well, I suppose I would like to know of your family.” He nodded toward the manor house. “You have the advantage of knowing quite a bit about mine by now.”

Relieved, she smiled broadly. That one was easy. “I am the daughter of Mr. Josiah Washer and his wife, Emmaline. I grew up in Lyme Regis where my father was a solicitor.”

“That is a lovely seaside town, Miss Washer. I visited it some years ago and found it delightful.” Captain Bancroft’s approval was gratifying. Emma wished the tale of her family life began and ended in the peaceful town where she’d been born. That, however, wasn’t the case.

“It was a wonderful place to grow up, Captain.” She shook her head and smiled sadly. “Unfortunately, I lived there only twelve years. My parents succumbed to an outbreak of typhoid, and I was sent to live with my aunt and uncle Washer.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry for your loss, Miss Washer.” The captain’s mouth thinned, and he glanced around the room as though he didn’t know where to look.

“Thank you, Captain, but you needn’t be discomfited.” The last thing she wanted to do was move them into a fit of melancholy. “It happened above ten years ago. And at least I had that brief idyllic time with my parents. Not every child does, you know.”

“That is true.” He gave her a brief smile. “You will always have those precious memories.”

If only they were the sole memories she possessed.

“So you now live with your aunt and uncle?” Captain Bancroft sipped his tea, his gaze on her. “I thought someone else sponsored you this past Season.”

Fighting down the urge to panic, Emma sipped her tea as well and launched into the story she’d decided to tell him. “My aunt and uncle have not been out in Society much. They had no children and my uncle was a shareholder in the East India Company so they spent a great deal of their lives out in India. Lady Tilney, a dear friend of my aunt, agreed to bring me out.” And that was as much as she was prepared to tell Captain Bancroft about herself for the moment. Before he could reply, Emma set her teacup on the table and rose. “Would you mind escorting me outside for a breath of fresh air, Captain? The drawing room seems overly warm suddenly.”

“Of course, Miss Washer.” A look of pleasure came over his face as he set his cup aside and came to his feet. He offered his red-clad arm and a little chill ran up her spine as she took it. “Nothing could give me more pleasure.”

Well, she’d see about that. Resisting the urge to cling to that strong arm, Emma tossed her head and laughed. She glanced over at Lady Caxton, in deep conversation with Lady Hunstanton. If they slipped out quickly, perhaps no one would notice their absence. “I am happy we are in accord once more.”

He led her to the French windows and, with a strange little flutter in her stomach, Emma followed him outside onto the veranda.