A Letter of Mary - Laurie R. King [81]
I scrubbed my palm and the inside of my wrist hard across the bristle of the animal's coarse hip, and as I yanked at the girth with unnecessary violence, I cursed my stupidity, my carelessness, my— yes, damn it, my absentmindedness— and I cursed as well my overreaction, for the second time in twenty-four hours, to an Edwards male. He came up behind me and held out glasses, gloves, hat, and jacket, and I clothed myself and mounted the horse without looking at him or taking his offer of a hand up.
"Mary, I—"
"No, Colonel. No." My rough voice was pure Russell. "I am sorry, but no. It's time to be getting back." I drove the hat pins roughly home, buttoned the gloves, and then forced myself to look down at him, but he only looked puzzled and a bit hurt, then slightly amused.
"Very well, Mary, if that's how you want it." He turned away to catch his own horse, but I couldn't leave it at that.
"Colonel? Look, I am sorry. It has nothing to do with how I want it, but it's how it has to be. I can't explain, not just now. I am sorry." And for a moment, with the tingle still warm on my wrist, I was truly sorry, and he saw it, and he smiled crookedly.
"I understand, Mary. It was foolish of me to think that you could be interested in an old man like me. I do understand."
I swallowed hard the protest that rose up, a bitter mouthful indeed. We both left the topic as it stood, and after he had mounted, we turned and rode back in a silence that was, oddly enough, not unfriendly. When the stable lads had received back their charges, I excused myself to go and reclaim my own clothes. Walking warily through the corridors, I made the upstairs room without challenge. Once there, I dismissed the maid as firmly as I had before, took my clothes from the wardrobe, and dressed quickly. I had just begun to pin my hair back together when a light tap at the door startled me.
"Yes?"
"Saint George here, slayer of dragons, at your service," drawled a light male voice.
I opened it, and my rescuer slipped in.
"I thought I'd check to see if my services were still needed, though short of a bigamous elopement, I cannot see how I might keep those two from the dinner party."
"Heaven forbid. No, we're going, as soon as I've taken my leave of the Westburys. Do you think you could—"
"A glass of bubbly under the rose bower is the most I can manage, I'm afraid."
"That would be perfect. Thank you, you dear man, you've saved me from a potentially difficult situation."
"The salvation of fair ladies is the entire purpose of my class, in case you had not realised. When ladies stop being in need of rescue, all like me will fade away."
"Like King Arthur, waiting to come again when England has need of him?"
"Good Lord, what a dreadful thought. Give me an honest retirement anytime. Speakin' of which, kindly present my greetings and regards to the gentleman with the pipe."
"I will. Come down for a weekend when this is all over, and I'll tell you all the sordid details. There's even an immensely early manuscript for you to admire."
"A first edition?"
"Without a doubt."
"Interestin'. I shall hold you to the offer. Well, it's been loverly, ducks, but two other ladies await my escort services. Give me five minutes to remove the dragons from downstairs, and the coast, as the fogbound lighthouse keeper said to his wife, will be clear."
"Thank you," I said again, and impulsively leant forward and kissed his cheek. He very nearly blushed, then busied himself with cleaning his monocle with his silk handkerchief and screwing it energetically over his eye.
"Yes, well, ta and all that. Cheerio."
I turned back to the mirror, smiling, and was surprised to see his fair head reappear at the door, the silly-ass attitude temporarily suspended from face and voice.
"By the by, Mary, a word in your ear. Doubtless you know already that your colonel has a potential