landscape, and gradually a third part of me becoming aware of a series of distinctly arresting sensations that slowly transformed my state of torpid dreaminess into hypnotic attention, a third point of awareness that kept me frozen and divided, the awareness of lips exploring the exquisitely sensitive tracery of veins that ran up the inside of my wrist.
It was overwhelmingly erotic, the feather touch and dreamlike movement of his breath and mouth and moustache in my palm, on the swell and hollow of my thumb, up the line of my tendons, the amazing, unexpected, electrifying gentleness and sensitivity of his mouth taking possession of my right hand, and I arched my fingers to him and took one deep, shuddering breath, and an instant later I was on my feet, stumbling away from him, seeking the safety of my horse.
I scrubbed my palm and the inside of my wrist hard across the bristle of the animal's coarse hip, and as I yanked at the girth with unnecessary violence, I cursed my stupidity, my carelessness, my— yes, damn it, my absentmindedness— and I cursed as well my overreaction, for the second time in twenty-four hours, to an Edwards male. He came up behind me and held out glasses, gloves, hat, and jacket, and I clothed myself and mounted the horse without looking at him or taking his offer of a hand up.
'Mary, I—'
'No, Colonel. No.' My rough voice was pure Russell. 'I am sorry, but no. It's time to be getting back.' I drove the hat pins roughly home, buttoned the gloves, and then forced myself to look down at him, but he only looked puzzled and a bit hurt, then slightly amused.
'Very well, Mary, if that's how you want it.' He turned away to catch his own horse, but I couldn't leave it at that.
'Colonel? Look, I am sorry. It has nothing to do with how I want it, but it's how it has to be. I can't explain, not just now. I am sorry.' And for a moment, with the tingle still warm on my wrist, I was truly sorry, and he saw it, and he smiled crookedly.
'I understand, Mary. It was foolish of me to think that you could be interested in an old man like me. I do understand.'
I swallowed hard the protest that rose up, a bitter mouthful indeed. We both left the topic as it stood, and after he had mounted, we turned and rode back in a silence that was, oddly enough, not unfriendly. When the stable lads had received back their charges, I excused myself to go and reclaim my own clothes. Walking warily through the corridors, I made the upstairs room without challenge. Once there, I dismissed the maid as firmly as I had before, took my clothes from the wardrobe, and dressed quickly. I had just begun to pin my hair back together when a light tap at the door startled me.
'Yes?'
'Saint George here, slayer of dragons, at your service,' drawled a light male voice.
I opened it, and my rescuer slipped in.
'I thought I'd check to see if my services were still needed, though short of a bigamous elopement, I cannot see how I might keep those two from the dinner party.'
'Heaven forbid. No, we're going, as soon as I've taken my leave of the Westburys. Do you think you could —'
'A glass of bubbly under the rose bower is the most I can manage, I'm afraid.'
'That would be perfect. Thank you, you dear man, you've saved me from a potentially difficult situation.'
'The salvation of fair ladies is the entire purpose of my class, in case you had not realised. When ladies stop being in need of rescue, all like me will fade away.'
'Like King Arthur, waiting to come again when England has need of him?'
'Good Lord, what a dreadful thought. Give me an honest retirement anytime. Speakin' of which, kindly present my greetings and regards to the gentleman with the pipe.'
'I will. Come down for a weekend when this is all over, and I'll tell you all the sordid details. There's even an immensely early manuscript for you to admire.'
'A first edition?'
'Without a doubt.'
'Interestin'. I shall hold you to the offer. Well, it's been loverly, ducks, but two other ladies await my escort services. Give me five minutes to remove the dragons from downstairs, and the coast, as the fogbound lighthouse keeper said to his wife, will be clear.'
'Thank you,' I said again, and impulsively leant forward and kissed his cheek. He very nearly blushed, then busied himself with cleaning his monocle with his silk handkerchief and screwing it energetically over his eye.
'Yes, well, ta and all that. Cheerio.'
I turned back to the mirror, smiling, and was surprised to see his fair head reappear at the door, the silly-ass attitude temporarily suspended from face and voice.
'By the by, Mary, a word in your ear. Doubtless you know already that your colonel has a potential for nasty behaviour, but you may not have met his son yet. If you do, watch yourself: He's a felony waiting to happen, and in him, the nasty streak goes clear across.'
'We've met.'
'Yes?'
'Indeed. He may walk carefully around sweet young things for a while.'
'Hello, hello, do I see a gleam in your eyes? Heaven protect me from an emancipated woman who can throw men over her shoulder.'
'I should think you know me better than to accuse me of something as unsubtle as that.'
'But no less painful, perhaps?'
'Well ...'
'Take care, Mary.' He laughed, then went down the hall whistling something complicated and Mozartian.
EIGHTEEN
I expected the drive back to London to be something of an ordeal, but it was not. The colonel was, if anything, more relaxed and friendly, almost as if he were relieved to have some bothersome question out of the way. The clouds, actual rather than metaphorical, gathered again as we neared London, and it was raining lightly when Alex pulled up in front of Isabella's boardinghouse. The colonel moved to open his door, but I put out a hand to stop him.
'Colonel, I just would like to say thank you for such a nice day. It was perfect. All of it.' I looked into his eyes for a moment, then leant forward to plant a daughterly kiss on his rough cheek. He seemed very pleased, so I let it go at that and got out when Alex opened my door.
Holmes was not there. Drat the man. I bathed, dressed, fidgeted, and at seven o'clock put a call through to Mycroft.
'Good evening, Michael,' I said. 'I was calling to see if by any chance you had news of a friend of mine? I was halfway expecting him to appear before this.'
'No, I haven't heard from him.' His voice was surprised but untroubled. 'If he hasn't shown up by now, he will probably come directly here. There's no reason to let his absence spoil your dinner.'
'I suppose you're right. I'll give him a few more minutes, then come on over.'
I fidgeted for another eight minutes, then threw up my hands and went down to find a cab. I stood in the protected doorway and looked in disgust at the unceasing rain, wondering how long it was going to take me to find an unoccupied taxi on a wet Sunday night. Fortunately, my luck was in, for a shiny black taxi cab, empty but for the driver, came cruising down the street. I waved for it to stop, bent down under my umbrella, and climbed in without waiting for the driver to open the door for me. As I sat back in the seat, he clashed the gears irritably and growled at me through the speaking window.
'Damn it all, Russell, you had more sense when you were fifteen than you exhibit now. How many times have I told you— what are you laughing at, woman?' I was laughing, suddenly intoxicated with the sheer pleasure of being back in the presence of this ageing, supercilious, impossible man who was often the only thing in my life that made any sense.
'Oh, Holmes, I knew it was you the instant I saw the taxi start up. You know, if you wanted to make a truly
