confluence of four paths through the park. One was the path they'd travelled last night, another led onward to the manor. A third struck across to join the eastern bridle path Flick usually used to reach the ruined cottage and his farm. Halting Ivan in the middle of the clearing, Demon glanced toward the opening of the fourth path, leading in from a small country lane to the west.
To see Hugh Dunstable, the General's middle-aged steward, ambling up through the morning.
Demon froze.
Dunstable had already seen him; smiling, he raised his hand to his hat. 'Ah! 'Morning, sir.'
Demon nodded easily, urbanely, but he couldn't for the life of him summon a smile. His mind raced while Dunstable's cob plodded closer, ever closer.
' 'Spect you got caught in last night's squall.' Drawing rein beside him, Dunstable beamed down at him. 'No doubt but it was heavy. Got caught out myself, it came up so quick. I'd been off to the Carters, playing a hand of whist-I was on my way back when it hit. I was drenched by the time I reached home.'
'As you say.' Demon glanced surreptitiously at the shadowed stable. 'It was too heavy to risk riding on.'
Dunstable snorted. 'On these paths? You'd have risked that fine beast.'
The fine beast chose that moment to snort, paw and prance, heavily shouldering Dunstable's cob. Demon swore and drew in Ivan's reins. Settling his placid cob, Dunstable chuckled. 'Aye-riding him must be an adventure. Not hard to see how you came by your name.'
It wasn't his expertise in riding high-bred
Much good it did him. His fervent appeal to the highest authority that Flick would have the sense to remain out of sight was refused; she appeared at that instant, smiling sunnily up at Dunstable as she led Jessamy out.
'Good morning, Mr. Dunstable.'
She glanced up at the sky, and so failed to notice the expression on Dunstable's face-sheer shock to begin with, rapidly transmuting into horror, momentarily displaced by speculation, only to revert to righteous horror again.
By the time Flick looked down and cheerily remarked, 'And a fine morning it seems to be,' Dunstable's features were set in stone, his expression impassive. He mumbled an incoherent reply to Flick; the look in his eyes when he shifted his gaze to Demon was coldly censorious.
Demon reacted in the only way he could-with a high hand. Cool arrogance in his eyes, he met Dunstable's gaze levelly; his expression hard, he raised a challenging brow.
Dunstable, only one step up from a servant, albeit an old and trusted one, was at a loss to know how to respond. Demon regretted putting the old man in his place, but every instinct he possessed refused to let anyone even imagine any ill-any indiscretion-of Flick.
To his relief, she, busy adjusting her stirrups, missed their exchange entirely.
'It looks like the clouds have blown away. I dare say it'll be quite warm by lunchtime.' She straightened and glanced around for a log to use as a mounting block.
Demon dropped his reins and crossed to her side; closing his hands about her waist, he lifted her, setting her lightly on Jessamy's back.
Lifting her chin, she fixed her blue eyes on Dunstable. 'I can't believe how overgrown the park has become-we must get Hendricks to cut back rather more. Why, you can barely see the sky, even here, even on such a wonderful morning. I rather think-'
She chattered blithely on, unaware that, with her cheeks still delicately flushed from sleep, her hair tousled and her velvet skirts badly crushed, she presented a perfect picture of a youthful damsel who had recently engaged in an energetic morning romp.
Predictably, she led the way along the path to the manor.
Dunstable followed close behind. To give him his due, while remaining stony-faced, he managed to make the appropriate noises whenever Flick paused in her paean to the morning.
Hands on his hips, Demon watched them amble off, then exhaled through his teeth. Returning to the hut, he secured the door, then mounted Ivan. And paused.
For one long moment, he stared down the path at Flick's and Dunstable's backs. Then, lips thinning, jaw firming, he shook Ivan's reins. And followed.
By the time their party reached Hillgate End, Demon had a firm grip on the situation. There was no doubt that he'd compromised Flick, albeit entirely innocently.
He'd caught up with her and Dunstable, only to hear her gaily state that they'd taken shelter soon after the rain had started. So Dunstable now knew that they'd been at the hut, together and alone, from the dead of night to dawn. Of course, focused on protecting Dillon, Flick had said not a word about what had occasioned her presence, in company with a rake, deep in the park in the middle of the night.
It was no great feat to imagine what Dunstable was thinking. Indeed, it was difficult to conceive of a more damning scenario for a young, unmarried gentlewoman than being discovered at dawn leaving an evening rendezvous in company with a rake of the first order.
Demon had had ample time to consider every facet of their night alone, every nuance, every likely repercussion-their journey to the manor had been slow, the ground very wet, soft beneath their horses' hooves. They'd plodded along, Flick in the lead, followed by Dunstable, with him in the rear. In brooding silence, he'd debated their options-not many-and what that therefore meant, while Flick had entertained Dunstable with her sunny patter.
She'd described the small stable, and exclaimed over the fact that Jessamy and Ivan had been quite dry; she'd continually paused to declaim the wonders of the morning. She had not, however, mentioned the mouse-on consideration, remembering the long moments she'd spent in his arms, he'd decided that was just as well.
God only knew what picture she might paint for Dunstable if she started on that topic.
Finally, they'd reached the manor's grounds; minutes later, they trotted into the stable yard.
Stifling a huge sigh of relief, her mind full of the wonders of a hot bath, Flick reined in. She untangled her legs and skirts from her sidesaddle; she was about to slide to the ground when Demon appeared beside her. He reached for her; his hands closed about her waist, then he lifted her down, and set her on her feet before him.
Quickly catching her breath-she was almost used to the effect of his touch, to the sudden seizing of her lungs-she beamed a sunny smile up at him, and held out her hand. 'Thank you so much for taking pity on me last night and seeing me home. I'm really very grateful.'
He looked at her-she could read nothing in his eyes, in his oddly set expression. He took her hand, but instead of squeezing it and letting go, he wrapped his fingers about hers and turned. 'I'll walk you to the house.'
Flick stared at him-at his back. She would have tugged and argued, but Dunstable, having dismounted more slowly, was hovering. Demon started walking-stalking; throwing a bright smile over her shoulder at Dunstable, she had to hurry to keep up.
Striding purposefully, Demon headed up the gravel path, ducking under the wisteria to pass beneath the old trees and cut across the lawn to the terrace. He didn't set her hand on his arm and stroll; instead, he kept his hand locked about hers and towed her along.
Flick tried an outraged glare, but he refused to even notice. His expression was set, determined. Determined on what she had no idea.
Glancing back, she saw Dunstable, watching from beneath the stable arch. She flashed him a reassuring smile and wondered what devil had possessed Demon.
He didn't stop until they were on the terrace, before the open morning room windows. Releasing her, he gestured her inside; with a speaking glance, she stepped over the threshold. Swinging her heavy skirts, she faced him as he followed her into the room. 'Why aren't you heading off to the Heath? We have to watch Bletchley.'
Halting in front of her, he looked down at her and frowned. 'Gillies and the others will keep watching until I
