Free Captive Bride by Katharine Ashe

knee, but, riding beside me along the lane, simply said he sincerely believed that we would suit.
    I have made it as much of a habit to refuse him as he has made it to ask.
    I, of course, have excellent justification.
    Sylvia once told me that when some young man (I cannot recall who, precisely—there were always so many) begged for her hand, he first attempted to make violent love to her. Georgie is more discreet about such things. But one cannot help notice when she and Kievan visit that he touches her frequently—on the hand, the arm, the small of her back, sometimes even on her face. Of course he is a gentleman, and never crosses the boundary of propriety in the presence of others.
    But, Diary, that day in Sir Jeremy’s library, when they thought no one could see—days before they became betrothed—I saw Kievan kiss Georgie . He kissed her as though he could not prevent himself from doing so, as though (dare I say?) some passion within him—whether of the heart or otherwise—drove him to it.
    Once at an al fresco luncheon in the park, I saw Lord Marke kiss Nancy in that manner, too.
    Although Peter Cheriot has offered me his title and name, he has never offered me that. That, however, is all I want of him.
    I am the greatest widgeon alive.
    End of discussion.
     
    ~ ~ ~
     

 
     
    CHAPTER SIX
     
    Tip came to breakfast late, clearly just returned from riding. He wore breeches, top boots, and a deep blue coat that fit his lean, broad-shouldered frame to perfection. His hair looked dashingly tousled from the removal of a hat.
    Bea was rising to leave, weary of watching Thomas cast calf’s eyes at Lady Bronwyn and of Aunt Grace’s stony silence.
    “Ah, I see I am almost too late,” Tip said, smiling beautifully at her as though he meant his comment for her in particular.
    “We are obliged to serve ourselves.” The dowager glowered at the sideboard. “The offerings are pitiful.”
    “Oh, Cook told me she must go to the village to fill the pantry.” Lady Bronwyn’s tone tinkled with light regret. “We so hoped visitors would come, but we did not expect any quite so promptly.”
    “I discovered the village this morning, in fact,” Tip said, moving to the sideboard. “The locals were not inclined to speak overly much with a stranger. I hoped, Lady Bronwyn, that we could venture there together this morning.” He gestured to include them all. “Perhaps we could encourage some of the more courageous souls to return to work at the castle.”
    “Oh, I do wish I could, my lord.” The girl looked wan. “But the village is beyond the castle grounds. I cannot go there.”
    Tip’s animated expression dimmed, but only slightly. His gaze shifted to Bea for a moment, then returned to their hostess.
    “Have you attempted it, my lady?” he asked, his voice gentle.
    Thomas stood up, his chair clattering back. “Of course she has. What are you suggesting, Cheriot , that—”
    Bronwyn’s hand on his arm arrested him. “Oh, goodness, Mr. Sinclaire , you must not chastise Lord Cheriot . You see, I have not attempted it. Lord Iversly simply told me I must not leave the grounds, so I have not.”
    Bea’s gaze shot to Tip.
    He didn’t so much as blink. “Did he tell you what the consequence would be if you defied his order?” 
    “He said that I simply would not be able to leave, that the curse would hold me here.”
    Tip seemed to consider that, then nodded. “Let us take a stroll instead then, shall we?” he directed at Thomas. “The sun is bright this morning, the grounds extensive, and I suspect the ladies would enjoy the diversion.”
    “I should like that above all things, Peter dear,” Aunt Julia said with a cockeyed twinkle. “How considerate you are. Beatrice, will you come along?”
    “Of course, Aunt Julia.” Tip must intend to challenge the ghost’s vague mandate concerning the borders of the castle grounds. If Iversly had any real power over holding Bronwyn here, he certainly would have said