Pursued For The Viscount's Vengeance. Sarah Mallory
dimity. They both stopped, but he heard a soft ‘Oh’ and saw a brown-paper package drop to the floor.
‘I beg your pardon.’ Instinctively he bent to pick it up, only raising his eyes as he handed over the parcel, and it was at that moment he found himself looking into the face of Miss Deborah Meltham.
* * *
Deb had been lost in her own thoughts, hurrying to return the shawl her kind friend Lady Gomersham had loaned her and get back to Randolph, but the near collision brought her to a sudden halt. She was murmuring her apology even as the gentleman scooped up her parcel. It was then, as he straightened and looked at her, that she recognised him.
Manners were forgotten. Deborah stared at the man as he handed back her package. He had been a shadowy figure for some weeks, but fate had given her this opportunity to study him and she took it. She observed every detail: the near-black hair, the slate-grey eyes set beneath curving dark brows, the unsmiling mouth and strong cleft chin. The lines of his lean face were too angular to be called handsome, but they were further disfigured by a thin scar that ran down the left side, from temple to chin.
All her suspicions were confirmed when he met her eyes. His was not the look of a man who had just bumped into a stranger. The intensity of his gaze made her tremble inside and set her pulse racing, but the next instant he had stepped back and was smiling politely as he tipped his hat to her and strode on. Deb clutched her parcel and remained frozen to the spot, trying to quieten her pounding heart. She must not turn back. She must not stare after him. Summoning all her willpower, she forced herself to walk on around the corner and out of sight, but for the rest of the day she carried his stern, unsmiling image in her head. The Man with the Scar.
* * *
Well, that was unfortunate. Gil walked swiftly away, cursing his bad luck. It had not been his plan to become acquainted with Deborah Meltham until he had learned a little more about her. He needed to be sure of his ground if he was to woo her successfully. He had never set out to do such a thing before and had intended to plan his every move as he would a military operation, to ensure he achieved the required result.
Gil frowned, thinking of her reaction to their unexpected meeting. At first there had been the shock and embarrassment natural to such an encounter, but when she raised her eyes to his face there had been something more. Recognition. Damnation. He had been careful to keep his distance, to remain in the background while he had been observing her, but it was clear that he had not been careful enough. After this chance encounter he could no longer put off his plan, so he had best get on with it. His eyes searched the town square and, spotting his quarry, he moved in.
‘Sir Geoffrey, good day to you.’ Gil touched his hat, smiling pleasantly, and when the man looked blankly at him he added, ‘James Victor. You may recall we met in the card room last night.’
‘Ah, yes, Mr Victor. Good day, sir, good day.’ The older man beamed at him. ‘I remember you now! Here on business, if I recall.’
‘No, no, not business exactly. I am minded to buy a property in the area.’
‘And there’s nowhere better, sir, as I can vouch for!’ Sir Geoffrey turned to accompany him on his way. ‘So, what have you seen so far?’
Gil mentioned a couple of houses, asked a few questions and it was not long before this had the required effect.
‘Well if you are serious, young sir, then perhaps you should meet some more of your prospective neighbours. My wife is holding a little party tomorrow night. Nothing fancy, you understand, just a few card tables, perhaps a little dancing. Gomersham Lodge, at the end of Mill Lane.’
‘I’d be delighted to come, only... Lady Gomersham will not object to a stranger turning up at her drawing room?’
‘Not a bit of it, always pleased to have another gentleman in attendance...’ Sir Geoffrey’s pale eyes twinkled merrily ‘...and if you can be persuaded to stand up for a dance or two she will be even more delighted!’
Gil allowed himself to be persuaded, exchanged a few more words with Sir Geoffrey, then went on his way, well pleased with the morning’s work. He had seen Lady Gomersham’s name scribbled on the package he had picked up for Miss Meltham, so it was more than likely she would be at Gomersham Lodge tomorrow.
* * *
It only occurred to him later, when he was shaving himself and staring into the looking glass, that the one thing he had not seen in Miss Meltham’s clear green eyes was repugnance. She had hardly appeared to notice his scar.
Deborah was relieved to find her brother at the breakfast table the following morning and apparently in good spirits. She greeted him with a kiss on his cheek before taking her seat beside him.
‘Lady Gomersham has invited us to the Lodge for supper this evening.’ She kept her voice light, trying not to sound too eager. ‘Shall we go, Ran?’
‘If you wish to do so.’
‘Well, I do,’ she replied. ‘Lizzie has just returned from her trip to London, where she has been staying with her aunt. I saw her yesterday, when I called at the Lodge, and I must say she was looking very smart in her London fashions. I dare say she will put us all in the shade.’ She ended with a little laugh, watching her brother for the slightest flicker of interest. Elizabeth Gomersham was only two years younger than Randolph and at one time they had been good friends, but now he showed no enthusiasm at all at the prospect of seeing her again.
‘These provincial parties are always so dull. Can you not go on your own?’
She framed her answer carefully.
‘I could, of course, but we have known the family for ever and Lady Gomersham is always asking after you. I know she would be delighted if you could attend one of her little gatherings.’
He shrugged carelessly.
‘Oh, very well. As long as the brandy is tolerable I shall not object.’
With that she had to be satisfied. She could only hope that his mercurial mood would not dip too badly during the day, for if it did he was very likely to cry off from the engagement.
* * *
Gomersham Lodge was a neat but substantial property within easy walking distance of the George, where Gil was putting up, but for the sake of appearances he ordered his carriage to take him to the door. While he was changing into the dark coat and knee breeches that were obligatory for formal evening parties, he asked his valet to tell him what he had discovered about the Melthams.
‘It’s just the two of them, my lord, Lord Kirkster and his sister. The family has had a house here for a couple of generations. The locals is mightily close-lipped about ’em, too. Protective, I would say, as these places can be about those they consider their own. The family came originally from Liverpool and made their money in the sugar trade, so I’m told. Their father died four years ago and it appears the new lord doesn’t take his responsibilities quite as seriously. The widowed Lady Kirkster moved here with her daughter, but soon followed her husband to the grave, and Miss Meltham has lived in Fallbridge ever since.’
‘No sign of a suitor for the lady?’
‘None was mentioned. She’s four-and-twenty, my lord, so she’s lost her chance by now.’
‘Not necessarily.’
Gil spoke more sharply than he had intended, irritated that society should consider a young woman to be past her best at such an age. She was a very attractive young woman. Or rather, many men would think so, he corrected himself.
* * *
When Gil arrived at Gomersham Lodge Sir Geoffrey was looking out for him and immediately presented him to Lady Gomersham, a plump, jolly woman who greeted him warmly and bade him go off and enjoy himself. His host seemed intent upon making him known to everyone