LITMIR.BIZ

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you. Now, please, sit down. How did you know I needed them?’ Oh Lord, Adam hadn’t said anything to Pru, had he?

      Pru perched on the edge of a chair and regarded her. ‘His lordship said you’d got wet.’

      ‘Well, so I did. There is no need to look so starched up, Pru.’

      ‘I saw his lordship. I’d say you got more than wet, Miss Dessy.’

      ‘Pru! What do you mean?’ Decima began to pull on her clothes, suddenly shy in front of the other woman as she had never been before.

      ‘His shirt was all pulled out—covers a multitude of sins, that does—his colour was up, breathing like he’d run round the house ten times and not very happy at meeting my eye. And look at you, Miss Dessy. All of a fluster, mouth that looks as though you’ve been rouging it—and see your neck.’

      Decima looked reluctantly into the mirror her handmaid thrust at her. A new Decima stared back. A wanton-looking creature with wide eyes, swollen mouth and, up the column of her neck, reddened patches. She lifted her hand to them, horrified to find her tentative touch produced not so much a feeling of pain as one of acute sensitivity.

      ‘That’s a man who needs to shave twice a day if he’s going to do that sort of thing,’ Pru pronounced. ‘Honestly, Miss Dessy, I thought he was a gentleman. Just goes to show you can’t trust any of them,’ she added darkly.

      ‘Pru, it’s not like that.’ Decima turned her back while her stay laces were jerked punishingly tight. ‘I am just as much to blame, and it was only a kiss.’ She saw Pru’s disbelieving face. ‘Goodness, you don’t think he…that we…Certainly not!’

      ‘If you say so, Miss Dessy.’ Pru handed her the petticoat.

      ‘I do say so, Pru. And it was certainly improper, I admit, but I am glad he did kiss me because at least I know what it is like and I will not be seeing him again once we leave here anyways.’ Decima dragged her gown over her head and emerged flushed and breathless. I will not be seeing him again. Ever.

      ‘Hmm. Well, I’d better get changed and come downstairs, Miss Dessy. This gown’s all crumpled.’

      Decima stared at her. The thought of Pru sitting there, a silent, disapproving chaperon all evening, filled her with horror. It was going to be hard enough facing Adam again, but to do it with a witness was impossible.

      ‘No, Pru. I would be too embarrassed. He and I need to…to agree some things between us. You stay here and rest and I will bring you your dinner up.’

      She went downstairs half an hour later, immaculate and quivering with nerves, to be greeted by a wave of succulent odours as she pushed open the kitchen door. Adam was uncorking a bottle of red wine; as she watched, he tipped it into a deep pan which was simmering on the range.

      At the sound of the door closing he looked up at her, then went slowly to put the empty bottle on the table. The silence crackled between them, filled with unformed words, unspoken thoughts. ‘You are cooking dinner,’ Decima managed at last, wincing at the banality of the obvious.

      ‘I thought the least I could do, having soaked you through with icy water and frightened you half to death, was to feed you something hot. There was some pigeon left, and a rabbit.’ He ran his hand abruptly through his hair and moved away a few steps as though to give her space. ‘Where is Pru?’

      ‘Upstairs. I don’t need her here. You didn’t frighten me, and you don’t now. I frightened myself.’

      ‘Decima. I am sorry.’ She had not heard him going back to his room, but Adam had changed his clothing for the dark elegance of evening dress, as though to reassure her with its formality. ‘I cannot pretend I didn’t want to kiss you, but I never meant for it to go so far.’

      ‘I…I liked it. It would be unfair of me to say I did not. But it was too much, all at once, so I didn’t know how to stop.’ She made herself keep her eyes on his face. He was being honest, so should she. ‘But you did, so that’s all right.’

      Adam turned away sharply. ‘You really are a quite remarkable woman.’

      Decima flushed. ‘A wanton one, you mean. Perhaps I led you on, I am sorry—’

      ‘Don’t apologise!’ He swung back to face her, his face full of an anger that she knew was not directed at her. ‘I said extraordinary—I mean just that. Why aren’t you having the vapours, threatening me with your brother?’

      ‘I told you,’ she said patiently, going over to dip a spoon in the fragrant, bubbling stew. ‘It was at least as much my fault as yours, it was extremely…interesting and there is nothing to have the vapours about. This is very good stew. Shall I peel some potatoes?’

      Suddenly it was all right again. Adam was obviously unconvinced, but she felt quite calm and almost at ease. True, her knees were knocking and her skin felt as though someone was caressing it with thousands of tiny feathers and, if they touched again, she thought she would probably swoon, but other than that she was all right. Of course she was. I am an independent grown-up woman, she told herself, and I can learn to cope with new situations.

      Adam hefted another pan onto the stove and reached for the salt box. ‘I’ve done them. Pru seems better.’

      ‘Yes, she does.’ Decima gathered up cutlery. ‘I will lay the table in the dining room. How is Bates?’

      They were having a perfectly ordinary domestic conversation while underneath her mind was whirling and her body behaving in ways she had never believed possible. Did Adam feel like this? Presumably all sorts of people went through life feeling like this on occasion; it was amazing what went on under the bland face of everyday life.

      The evening passed pleasantly enough. Any invisible onlooker would have observed the unusual sight of a lady and gentleman waiting on their own servants, and then on themselves at dinner. But they would have been hard put to detect either the slightest impropriety or even undue familiarity in the rest of the evening, which was passed by the lady and her companion in desultory conversation, the reading of somewhat out-of-date journals and the exchange of opinion from time to time upon clues in the acrostic the lady was attempting to complete.

      Or perhaps the unseen watcher would have noticed the way the lady’s eyes would rest on the gentleman’s bent head, or the manner in which her lashes would sweep down to disguise her interest the moment he moved. And they might also have noticed the way in which he shifted restlessly in his chair and the tight line of his mouth when he caught himself doing so.

      As the hall clock struck ten Decima looked up from the Ladies’ Journal with an arrested expression. ‘What is that noise?’

      Adam got to his feet and moved to the window, flicking aside the heavy drapes. ‘Rain. The thaw has come.’ He turned and looked at her and Decima struggled to read the message in eyes suddenly the colour of dark flint. ‘The outside world may well reach us tomorrow.’

      ‘The end of our sojourn out of time and away from reality,’ she said, trying to make the remark light—and realising almost too late that she wanted to cry.

      Decima got to her feet, holding on to the arm of the chair as though she, and not Pru, was weak from a fever. She had the strangest feeling that if she held out her arms now he would come to her and to hell with the consequences. Last time he had had the strength to step away. Now it was her turn to be strong.

      ‘I think I am probably keeping Pru up,’ she said with a firm smile. ‘And if there is travelling to do tomorrow, we must both get some rest. Goodnight, Adam.’

      He took two long strides across the room to her side and did something he had never done before, lifting her hand in his and lightly kissing her fingertips. ‘Goodbye, Decima.’

      She was halfway up the stairs before she had got her reaction to the fleeting touch of his lips under control and thought about what he had just said. Goodbye?

      Decima went to bed, expecting

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