Part 30 (1/2)

Lucinda's brows rose; she opened her mouth. ”But--' Mr Honeywell smoothly interposed his stout frame between Lucinda and the door '--I really wouldn't advise you to interrupt them, ma'am.”

Taken aback, Lucinda allowed her brows to rise higher; for a silent moment, she looked down on Mr Honeywell. When she spoke, her tone was chilly.

”My dear Mr Honeywell--' ” Who's in there, Honeywell? ”

Lucinda blinked. It was the first time in an hour that Harry had spoken.

Mr Honeywell cast an imploring glance at him.

”Just a group of young bloods, sir. You'll know the sort.”

”Indeed.” Harry turned to Lucinda.

”You can't go in.” As frigidly imperious as any dowager, Lucinda slowly turned and met his gaze.

”I beg your pardon?” Harry's lips twisted slightly but his gaze did not waver.

”Let me put it this way.” His tone was peculiarly soft, silky, with an undercurrent that threatened all manner of danger.

”You're not going in there.”

If Lucinda had had any doubt as to the reality behind the unsubtle threat, it was laid to rest by the look in his eyes, the set of his jaw and the tension that slowly infused his large frame. Despite her rising temper, she was a.s.sailed by an instinctive urge to step back--and a totally maniacal impulse to call his bluff just to see what he would do. Ignoring the s.h.i.+ver that squirmed down her spine, she sent him a seething glance, then transferred her gaze, now icy, to Mr Honeywell.

”Perhaps you could show me this other parlour?”

The innkeeper's sigh was almost audible.

Shown the second parlour, repeatedly a.s.sured that it was virtually identical to the other, Lucinda gave her haughty approval. Stripping off her gloves, she nodded at Honeywell.

”I'll examine the books now. You may bring them in here.”

Honeywell departed to fetch his ledgers. Leaving her gloves and reticule on the table, Lucinda slowly walked down the room. Halting by the window, she drew in a steadying breath and swung to face Harry.

He had followed in her wake; she watched as he drew near, stopping directly before her, one brow lifting, a challenging look in his eye.

Lucinda returned it in full measure.

”It may interest you to know, Mr Lester, that I had no intention of--' she gestured dismissively '--barging into a private meeting. A fact I was about to make dear to Mr Honeywell when you chose to intervene.”

The arrested, suddenly defensive expression that flickered in Harry's eyes was balm to Lucinda's temper.

She immediately pressed her advantage.

”I merely wished to enquire as to the bona fides of the customers using my inn--a right I'm sure even you will agree is mine.” She waggled a finger under his nose.

”Neither you nor Mr Honeywell had any justification for jumping to such a conclusion--as if I was a child unaware of the proprieties! And you, sir, had no right to threaten me as you did.”

Turning aside and folding her arms, Lucinda elevated her chin.

”I wish to hear an apology, sir, for your ungentlemanly behaviour.”