Читать книгу The Captain Claims His Lady - Энни Берроуз, ANNIE BURROWS - Страница 13

Chapter Five

Lizzie had never woken up, while in Bath, with a sense of anticipation. And she’d always regarded their daily attendance at the Pump Room as just a part of the grindingly dull routine she had to weather. But this morning, her heart was beating double time as she helped Grandfather out of his sedan chair.

Would he be there today? Captain Bretherton? He’d come yesterday, to drink the waters. Although she couldn’t think why. He was the strongest man she’d ever met. Which was probably why she’d enjoyed dancing with him so much. For the first time, she hadn’t felt oversized and gangly, and unfeminine. Not at all. She’d felt...

Well, if he was here today, she could ask him what on earth he was doing, drinking the foul waters, when he was so...

She felt a blush coming on and ruthlessly turned her thoughts in another direction. The last thing she wanted was for anyone to notice how susceptible she was to Captain Bretherton and start quizzing her about him.

And if he was here, she was going to speak to him in a sensible fashion. Not stammer and blush, and sigh. Absolutely not. She’d start, she’d decided earlier—after ransacking her wardrobe for a gown she would actually like him to see her wearing, before realising she didn’t possess one—by asking him why his doctor had sent him to Bath to drink the waters. For there was nothing most invalids enjoyed more than going into great detail about their ailments. While he was describing a set of symptoms that would probably make her shudder, she wouldn’t have to come up with anything witty or interesting by way of response. She wouldn’t have to do anything but listen. And by the time he’d recounted the history of whatever ailment he had, he probably wouldn’t appear so...god-like. Which would be a good thing, because it was blasphemous to think in those terms about a mere mortal.

But how else to account for the fact that she became a different person whenever he drew near? A wittier, more graceful version of herself. Who could actually dance? It was nothing short of miraculous.

Ouch!

She winced at the blow from Grandfather’s walking stick.

‘That’s the third time I’ve asked you! What’s got into you, girl?’

‘Nothing, Grandfather,’ she replied penitently. ‘I was wool-gathering. I do beg your pardon. I—’

‘Never mind excuses. Snap out of it. And go and fetch me my cup of water. It’s what I bring you for, after all. Go on. At the double!’

‘Yes, Grandfather.’ Lizzie made her way across the crowded Pump Room to join the queue at the fountain. If he was here, he would have to come and find her. It wasn’t the done thing for a lady to seek out a gentleman. Even if she could pick him out from the crowd, which she couldn’t.

She fingered her reticule, wishing she had the courage to make use of the one item that would have put her on an even footing with all the other people here. But she hadn’t.

She sighed.

He wouldn’t come to look for her. Even though he’d said he’d enjoyed their time together last night, she mustn’t pin her hopes on him still being in the same frame of mind today. Men with god-like attributes such as he possessed surely did not waste more than one evening upon any one female. Why, he might not even still be in Bath. He—

‘Good morning, Miss Hutton.’

He was here! And bowing to her. And speaking to her. At least, he’d said good morning. Which meant—Oh! She ought to make some kind of reply.

‘Ah. Oh. Um.’ Yes. Very witty. That would really impress him. A wave of embarrassment flooded her, making her cheeks flame.

‘It’s deuced hot in here, isn’t it?’ he said. Oh, how kind of him to come up with a valid reason for her to blush!

‘Don’t know why they need to have a fire blazing,’ he said, ‘with all the crowds jostling to get in.’

‘Grandfather always takes a seat as near to the fire as he can, while I go to fetch his water,’ she managed to say, though her tongue felt a bit too big for her mouth.

‘Rheumaticky, is he?’

Which reminded her, she had meant to quiz him about his own ailments. With the twin aim of getting him to do most of the talking, while toppling him from his pedestal.

‘It’s his broken bones. He had a few injuries during his years of active service. And he claims draughts set them off. Is that why you are here? Were you injured? I mean, that is, you are in the navy, are you not?’

‘I did have my fair share of injuries,’ he replied, as the queue shuffled forward. And fell silent.

‘And is that why you have come to drink the waters?’

The queue shuffled forward again before he had made any reply. Which made her fear he had picked up some nasty disease which he couldn’t mention in female company.

Well! That would make her think less well of him. Sailors were notorious for seeking...comfort...in whichever port they happened to be. She ought not to know about it, but—

‘It is a bit complicated,’ he finally said. ‘I had yellow jack when I was in the tropics, which left me...not in prime twig, shall we say,’ he finished saying on a huff of a laugh. ‘And then I was taken prisoner by the French.’ He plucked at the front of his jacket, making her aware that it hung a bit loose on his big frame. ‘I lost so much weight while enjoying their hospitality that when I finally came back to England my friends said I resembled a scarecrow.’

They reached the head of the queue. The footman handed them each a cup. They stepped aside.

‘I say, Miss Hutton, I don’t suppose you would care to knock this out of my hand again this morning?’

‘It won’t do you any good if you don’t drink it.’

‘I don’t think it will do me any good if I do,’ he said glumly. ‘To be honest, I think I will gain more benefit from sticking to my daily swim in the stuff.’

He swam? Oh, how she wished that Grandfather would grant her permission to do the same. But she wasn’t ill. And so there was no need for him to waste his blunt on any such treatment for her.

And then a horrid thought assailed her. It sounded as though he was explaining why she would not be seeing him again.

‘Are you telling me you will not be attending the Pump Room again?’

‘What? No. It is just...’ He bent his head, as though studying the cup he held in his hand. Then, with one swift movement, he raised it to his mouth and tossed back the entire contents in one go.

Then shuddered. ‘To think people drink this willingly.’ He shook his head.

‘But...you just did.’

‘No. That...’ he grimaced ‘...was my punishment.’

‘For what?’

He turned away from her for a moment, presumably to dispose of his cup. ‘My sins,’ he said, turning back to her, ‘are too numerous to mention. Let us instead talk of you.’

‘Me?’ Her voice came out in a squeak.

‘Yes. I want to know everything,’ he said in a determined voice, ‘there is to know about you.’

‘Well that won’t take very long. I am really very boring.’

‘Not to me, you aren’t. Have you any idea what it was like, to dance with a partner who...matched? Most women make me feel big and lumbering and awkward. But not you.’

‘Oh.’ She felt another blush coming on. And, before she could stop her unruly tongue, she heard herself admitting, ‘It was the same for me, too. That is, most men make me feel big and lumbering and awkward.’

‘Can you wonder, then, that I want to get to know you better?’

‘I... I...’

Her feet, by this time, had carried her back to her grandfather without her even taking note of where she was going. And since he was by her side, he’d fetched up there, too.

‘Who’s this? Eh?’ Grandfather was glaring up at them from under lowered brows.

‘Captain Bretherton,’ said Captain Bretherton, bowing.

‘And just what do you think you’re doing with my granddaughter? Eh? Young jackanapes.’

‘I was thanking her for taking pity on me last night and dancing with me.’

‘Taking pity on you? That’s a likely story.’

She wasn’t sure if she imagined it, but Captain Bretherton seemed to stiffen. His voice was certainly a bit cool when he said, ‘Miss Hutton, now that I have restored you to your grandfather, I shall bid you good day.’

Her spirits plunged as he disappeared into the throng. That was probably the last she’d see of him. He might say he wanted to get to know her better, but no man, at least none with any pride, would stand for being addressed as a jackanapes.

‘Didn’t take long to get him to take to his heels, did it?’ Grandfather was glaring in the direction of Captain Bretherton’s retreat. ‘Though I warned you about fellows of his stamp, yesterday. What do you mean by dancing with him, eh?’

‘Well, he asked. And I didn’t have any reason to refuse...’

‘That’s the trouble with places like this. Full of strangers. Anybody can pass themselves off as marquesses or dukes...’

She took a breath to object. Grandfather’s eyebrows lowered even further. ‘Or call themselves captains,’ he persisted. ‘Ten to one he never got nearer a regiment than walking past a parade in Hyde Park.’

‘Well, no, but then he is in the navy. He...’

‘Playing on your susceptibilities is he, because of Sam?’

Lizzie flinched. Firstly, the chances Captain Bretherton knew she’d even had a brother, let alone one who served in the navy, were so remote as to be laughable. And secondly, why would he play on her susceptibilities?

‘Just let him know you don’t have a dowry, next time he comes sniffing round. Then we’ll see what his motives really are.’ He rapped on the floor with his cane. Though he might as well have struck her with it again.

‘Very well, Grandfather,’ she said, with as much meekness in her voice as she could muster. ‘Next time I see him, the first thing I shall do is tell him I am penniless.’

She hadn’t thought it was possible for his eyebrows to get any lower, but they did. And he thrust out his jaw, as though he was trying to decide whether she was being sincere. But, after a moment or two, he leaned back in his chair, with a ‘hmmph’, and then turned his shoulder to carry on the conversation in which he’d been engaged before.

Lizzie took up her station behind his chair, her chin up, her gaze fixed straight ahead. She wasn’t trembling, although the entire episode would have humiliated any girl who hadn’t grown inured to such scenes over the years. She told herself that Grandfather probably meant well. That he was trying to protect her, in his own, inimitable fashion. That Bath was the kind of place that did attract men on the lookout for gullible heiresses, or so Lady Buntingford had told her. And that it didn’t matter what they looked like. A practised seducer would make his intended victim feel as though there was something special about her. Something that only he, out of the whole world, could appreciate. Make her believe he truly loved her. So that he could get his hands on her money.

So, the sooner she informed Captain Bretherton that she had none, the sooner she would know whether his interest in her was genuine.

Or not.