Читать книгу The Captain Claims His Lady - Энни Берроуз, ANNIE BURROWS - Страница 10

Chapter Two

Lizzie took the cup of water from the hand of the footman who had just drawn it from the pump and turned hastily. The rooms were particularly crowded this morning and she’d been queuing for what felt like an eternity. Grandfather would certainly think so. Waiting in his chair by the fireplace, he would be tapping his cane on the floor by now, his temper rising with each second that passed.

Though it wasn’t even as if he’d wish to leave once she’d brought him his daily dose of the water which was supposed to be the cure for his gout, since so many of his cronies were here for the season. He’d be gossiping for ages long after he’d downed his medicinal cup of water, while she would have to stand behind his chair, still as a statue lest he accuse her of fidgeting.

Nevertheless, she’d annoy him less if she made it look as if she’d completed this errand as quickly as she could.

As she stepped back to make her way out of the throng pressing round the pump, her shoulder caught on something. Something that felt rather like a brick wall. And which said, ‘Oof!’, just before she heard the distinctive sound of a cup clattering to the floor.

‘Oh, no...oh, dear,’ she said, turning to make her apologies to whoever it was she’d just stumbled into. And finding herself on a level with a very determined chin. Above that was a full-lipped mouth and above that was a rather blunt nose, sprinkled with freckles. And above that, a pair of the bluest, saddest eyes she’d ever seen.

‘I’m so sorry,’ she said, her cheeks heating, though the Lord alone knew why. She had to apologise so often for blundering into someone or something that she ought to be used to it by now. It was just that this man was so...tall. And so solid. Most people would have staggered back under the force of her weight, applied directly to their midriff. Or even fallen right over. In fact, it was a miracle, given that the place was full of the frail and elderly, that she hadn’t knocked anyone over yet this season.

But this man hadn’t budged as much as an inch.

Which meant they were standing far too close to each other.

She took a hasty half-step back. Immediately his facial features blurred into a pale oval topped by a neat thatch of closely cropped black hair.

‘Your cup...’ she began with mortification. It would be of no use attempting to pick it up. She had no idea where it had gone and her eyesight was too poor to bother making a search. ‘I shall go and fetch you another...’

As she made to move, something that felt like a wooden vice gripped her by the elbow.

‘Oh, no, you don’t,’ said the large man, in a firm voice. ‘I mean, that is to say,’ he said in a much lighter tone, ‘you have no need to fetch me another. No need at all.’

‘But I—’

‘No,’ he said, in that same firm tone. Then he leaned in and murmured, ‘You have just saved me from a terrible fate. Do not, I beg of you, undo your good work now.’

‘A terrible... My good... What?’

‘I know the water is supposed to be good for my health, but...’ He shrugged. With a pair of shoulders the width of a mantelpiece.

‘Oh,’ she said. Or rather, sighed. Yes, the sound that had just come out of her mouth had definitely contained far more sigh than sense.

‘May I,’ said the enormous, solid man, ‘be permitted to know your name? So that I may render due gratitude to my redeemer?’

She wasn’t sure, afterwards, if it was the slightly mocking allusion to scripture, or the jocular tone of his voice, but she suddenly felt as if she was making a bit of a fool of herself, standing so close to a man she didn’t know, and feeling all... Well, she wasn’t sure what she was feeling. Only that she’d never felt anything like it before.

And also, that no matter what he was making her feel, she really ought allow him to keep hold of her elbow in that proprietorial manner.

She lifted her chin.

And promptly thought better of saying anything cutting. He’d been so forgiving of her clumsiness. Shouldn’t she return the favour by forgiving his forwardness?

‘It is...’ No, she couldn’t simply give him her name. That was not at all the proper thing to do. Why, he could be anybody.

‘Miss...?’ he prompted her.

She ought to step away from him. Why couldn’t she? ‘Step,’ she finished. For it would indeed be a misstep to act in such a fast manner.

‘Miss Step?’ His dark brows raised. He shook his head. ‘Are you quite sure?’

‘Yes, I...’ She glanced in the direction of the fireplace and her grandfather’s chair. ‘In fact, I ought to be...’

‘Because you have the distinct look of the Cheevers family.’

‘Cheevers?’

‘Yes, I have the distinct impression you are, decidedly, Miss Cheevers.’

He ran the two words together so that it sounded as though he’d said mischievous. Her breath caught in her throat. Good heavens, was he...teasing her? Flirting with her? No, no, he couldn’t possibly be doing that. He’d looked sensible, when she’d been close enough to make out the expression on his face.

‘I am not being mischievous,’ she retorted. And then, heaven alone knew why, she succumbed to the temptation to add, ‘You are clearly Miss Taken.’

He laughed. The sound erupted from his mouth as though it had taken him completely by surprise.

‘No, no, I am no sort of Miss at all. Though clearly you believe I have committed a Miss Demeanour, by being so bold as to ask for your true name.’

‘It was a piece of rank Miss Conduct.’

‘No, not so bad as that. It was, perhaps, a touch Miss Guided.’

‘Which was why I felt obliged to use a Miss Nomer.’

‘I understand completely. But believe me, by attempting to be Miss Terious, you have only made me more determined to uncover your true identity.’

Somebody nearby cleared their throat. And she realised that the pair of them were creating a rather substantial obstacle to people trying to reach, or move away from, the pump.

The tall, blue-eyed man bowed from the waist. ‘Forgive me, Miss Teak, but I really should be moving along.’

‘Oh,’ was all she could think of say, as her spirits plummeted. Of course, a man like that was not going to stand around playing word games with the likes of her for any length of time. She might have amused him, for a moment or two. But he had eyes in his head. She was tall, she was ungainly and she had no dress sense. She didn’t think her face was actually ugly and her hair was the kind of silver blonde that men might go into raptures over, if it sprouted from the head of a smaller, dainty woman.

But she wasn’t. And it didn’t.

By the time she’d thought all those things, he’d vanished into the throng. Though she would have thought a man like him would be visible above the general run of people, being a full head taller than she was.

Her wretched eyesight. If only Grandfather would permit her to wear spectacles when she went out. But Grandfather didn’t hold with them. And she didn’t have the heart to defy him. He’d been generous enough to her over the years. Indeed, if it wasn’t for him...

She sighed, and, her cup of supposedly health-giving water held firmly in her hand, made her way back to the spot where she’d left Grandfather, holding court over a group of Bath widows and old cronies.

‘Who were you talking to, miss?’ Grandfather scowled at her over the rim of his cup as she handed it to him.

‘I have no idea,’ she admitted wistfully. ‘He didn’t give me his name.’

‘I should think not. In my day a gentleman waited to be introduced before speaking to a lady.’

‘Well, I did blunder into him and knock his cup of water out of his hand.’

‘Oh. I see. Like that, was it?’ And with that, he turned back to Mrs Hutchens and took up from where they’d left off gossiping, having clearly dismissed the entire incident.

Which was a bit depressing, actually. For a minute or two, Lizzie toyed with the idea of saying that, no, it wasn’t like that. That the tall, blue-eyed man had flirted with her outrageously. Showered her with compliments, then asked her to elope with him.

But saying any such thing would only have earned her a sharp reprimand. Grandfather knew she wasn’t the kind of girl that gentlemen ever flirted with. The only thing that might tempt a man to look beyond her gargantuan build, and her clumsiness, was an enormous dowry.

And Lizzie didn’t have a penny to her name.

Still, there was nothing to stop her from reliving the encounter in her mind. And imagining the expressions that might have been flitting across his face as they were bantering with each other. Why shouldn’t he have looked at her with admiration? Why couldn’t her dazzling wit have managed to chase the shadows from his eyes and make them twinkle with laughter?

Grandfather rudely interrupted her daydream by poking her in the leg with his cane.

‘Come on, girl, stop wool-gathering!’

It was time to leave.

‘Yes, Grandfather,’ she said meekly. But instead of trailing behind him, shoulders drooping at the prospect of facing the next stage in the daily round of Bath life, Lizzie imagined she was balancing a pile of books on her head. Because ladies were supposed to glide, gracefully, wherever they went.

And for once, Lizzie could see the point of trying to do so.

Because, who knew who might be watching her?