Part 13 (2/2)
With a little coaxing she was soon chattering happily about the misdeeds of her brothers. She had an instinctive understanding of and sympathy for childish mischief that Adam found most attractive. He could imagine her, grown older and more poised, as a superb mother. It was a great pity that he had not the slightest desire to make her the mother of his own children.
They were out of sight of the others by now, and approaching a barrow somewhat smaller and less steep than most.
”I think this is the place where I was buried,” he said. ”I was a heroic Briton, a war chieftain grievously wounded fighting the Romans. Jonathan was my high priest and we invented an elaborate funeral ceremony involving a sacrificial maiden. Poor Sarah played that part, of course, though she did not like it one bit. We tried to dig a grave on top of this mound, without great success. I wonder if there is any sign left of our digging.”
”Let us go and see,” suggested Miss Davis with unexpected enthusiasm. ”Then I shall be able to describe it properly to the boys when I go home.”
The girl refused any a.s.sistance, shying away when Adam offered his hand. When they reached the top after a breathless scramble which brought a delightful colour to her cheeks, the green gra.s.s showed no sign of any disturbance. They stood for a moment admiring the view, then started back down the steep slope.
Again she refused help. Adam went ahead, glancing back anxiously as she picked her way down from tussock to tussock, the train of her habit draped over one arm. Sarah had been in short skirts when they had come here as children, and he had not realized how awkward the climb could be for a female.
He waited at the bottom, and she was no more than a dozen feet above him when she lost her balance. Arms waving in an attempt to recover herself, she dropped her train, caught her foot in it, and slithered the rest of the way to land in a heap at his feet.
He reached down to help her up. Her face was white.
”I've turned my ankle,” she whispered. ”It will be all right in a minute, I expect.” She moved to sit up, wincing and biting her lip.
”We'd best take your boot off at once, in case it swells,” said Adam, suiting action to the words despite her protest. ”Lord, you won't be able to walk on this.”
”It will be better directly. I ... I'm sorry, my lord.”
”Nonsense! It is entirely my fault, and I shall do penance by carrying you back. How fortunate that you are a mere slip of a girl.” He grinned at her encouragingly as he lifted her in his arms and started back towards the others.
”Oh no, please, put me down. I can walk, indeed I can.” The colour of her face fluctuated from white to scarlet and back again. Fright and embarra.s.sment mingled in her eyes and her slight body trembled with tension. ”It cannot be proper for you to carry me, my lord. Pray let me try to walk.”
”That will only do you a further injury. Try to relax, Lydia. Lay your head on my shoulder.”
”I cannot! Oh, what will everyone think? I cannot bear to face them.”
”They will think me a fool for letting you climb the barrow,” he said, with what patience he could muster.
Tears began to trickle down her pale cheeks. ”They will think me the veriest hoyden, and quite lost to all shame.”
”No one can hold you to blame for your accident, but if anyone takes exception to your being in my arms, you had best tell them we are betrothed.”
The tears ceased and she looked up at him in amazement. ”Betrothed? But you cannot wish to marry me.”
”Do stop telling me what I can and cannot do, there's a pet.”
”Do you really mean it?” she asked doubtfully. ”Lady Edward will be happy, and Papa and Mama.”
”And you?”
”I ... I expect I shall grow used to the idea. Mama says I will like to be a viscountess and have lots of pin money.”
”I am sure you will. Now, lay your head on my shoulder and relax. It is very difficult to carry you when I feel you may jump down at any moment.”
She obeyed. ”Are we truly betrothed, then? It seems very strange.”
It seemed strange to Adam, too, though he was beginning to grow accustomed to the feeling. After all, it was his third betrothal within a week. There was safety in numbers, he reminded himself, doing his best to suppress an inner voice that told him this time was different.
”This is excessively romantic,” sighed Lydia. ”If only my ankle did not ache so. Do you really think
people will not be shocked that you are carrying me?”
”They will be by far too concerned about your injury. I daresay there will be a great to-do and we will not even have a chance to tell them about being engaged to be married.”
”Oh yes, let us keep it a secret. That will be even more romantic, will it not? Just like something out of a novel.”
Adam breathed a silent sigh of relief.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.
Sarah lost interest in flirting with Lord James and Mr. Swanson as soon as Adam was out of sight.
Though she tried to conceal it, the spirit went out of her repartee.
”Care to take a stroll?” suggested Swan with a knowing look in his eye. ”There's nothing like a little
gentle exercise after overeating.”
”Speak for yourself!” said Kerry indignantly. ”Miss Meade ain't overeaten. Eats like a sparrow.”
”Thank you, my lord,” Sarah laughed. ”Nonetheless, I should like to walk for a while. I have not been
here for years.”
Kerry jumped up and gave her a hand. ”Deuced peculiar notion, if you ask me, having a party in a graveyard.”
”Hush, there's a good fellow.” Mr. Swanson struggled to his feet. ”You wouldn't want Lady Edward to
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