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splash.
Seven
Nathaniel had slightly longer than Diana to prepare, for he had seen her before she was aware of his presence. She was leaning over so far to watch the ducks sail by below that his heart had leaped in panic. He was ready to jump out of his saddle and dive to the rescue—he supposed even a woman who had insulted him the last time he tried to help her ought to be rescued—but the only thing that fell was the fleece muff.
When she saw him, her face paled. Her lips parted and she reached behind to clutch the stone ledge.
He had slowed his horse and now came to a halt on the hump of the bridge where she stood. Determined to keep his face empty of any expression, he stared down at her, waiting for something—a smile perhaps, some sign of gladness to see him. This time, let her be the first to speak. Could it be so hard for the damn woman to greet him? Others had welcomed his return with warmth. Why couldn’t she? It wasn’t as if she was in any danger of him renewing his attentions.
But there was no sound from her. Only parted lips, and cheeks sunk in as if she were stuck on an inhaled breath.
Finally he grew too impatient. “Madam,” he snapped out in terse greeting. Why was she there alone? Again she was unattended, Shaw nowhere in sight. “Are you on your way to visit my sister?”
She tipped her head back slightly, and gentle sunlight reached under her bonnet to touch her face. His pulse had almost ceased to beat. For so long he had held her face in his memory, and now she was before him again. Yet changed.
One small word squeaked out of her. “No.” She looked as if she was not sure where she was going.
No smile warmed her expression. If anything, her countenance drained the sun of its heat, and when that word emerged from her lips, she looked perplexed. He stared down at those lips he’d once kissed. Their color was faded and they turned down at the corners, wobbling slightly.
He thought of riding on and saying nothing more, but found that to be quite impossible. “Pleasant weather,” he said. Damn her. He would make her be polite to him even though she thought him so unworthy.
She merely nodded.
Nathaniel rested one hand on his thigh. “You look”—He decided not to lie. After all, flattery had never got him anywhere with her—“very ill. Is something amiss, madam?”
“Amiss?” A sharp, humorless laugh escaped her as she looked away from him. “I’m afraid it’s simply the passage of time, Captain.”
“Ah. I suppose so. And time is seldom kind to women.”
Once, she’d accused him of being a boy, aimless, immature, and selfish. He’d waited more than three years to return the wounding thrust.
It did not feel quite as satisfying as he’d imagined. And he realized that rather than assuring her of his new maturity, he had just done the opposite.
Her gaze swept back to him but briefly, vexed. Then she looked down over the parapet again. Nathaniel waited, staring down at her, the horse restless under him.
“Shall I fetch it for you, madam?”
Her hands still grasped the stone behind her. “Fetch what?”
She’d forgotten it already. Clearly the muff meant nothing to her.
“The item you dropped, madam.” He paused and then added, “Unless, of course, you tossed it away deliberately.”
She was breathing rapidly now, a little color returning to her cheeks. “Why would I toss it away—?” Her brows lowered in a deep frown, and then he knew she understood his meaning.
Yes, he had recognized the muff he’d bought for her. He’d given it to her the last autumn he was there, while they stood under the sheltering golden leaves of the Bolt and he tried to dissuade her from marrying Shaw.
Warm your hands in this, Diana, until I can return again to warm them for you.
Nathaniel was quite sure she would never have dared tell her mother who’d bought her that muff. Indeed, he was shocked to see it was still in her possession for several years before being resigned