A Lady by Midnight (Spindle Cove #3)(7)
Author: Tessa Dare

“I have you,” he said.

Yes, he did. He had her so tight and so close, her corset grommets were probably leaving small round marks on his chest.

“Are we almost there?” she asked.

“No.”

She stifled a plaintive sigh.

As the sun dipped toward the horizon, they stopped at a turnpike. Kate waited with the puppy while Thorne purchased a tin pail of milk and three loaves of hot, crusty bread from a cottager. She followed him as he carried this picnic out over a stile and onto a nearby slope.

They sat near one another in meadow ablaze with flowering heather. The fading sunlight touched each tiny purple blossom with orange. Kate folded her shawl into a square, and the puppy circled it several times before settling down to attack its fringe.

Thorne handed her one of the loaves. “It’s not much.”

“It’s perfect.”

The loaf warmed her hands and made her stomach growl. She broke it in two, releasing a cloud of delicious, yeasty steam.

As she ate, the bread seemed to fill some of the yawning stupidity inside her. Sensible behavior was a great deal easier to manage on a full stomach. She could almost bear to look at him again.

“I’m grateful to you,” she said. “I’m not certain I said that earlier, to my shame. But I’m very thankful for your help. I was having the most miserable day of my year, and seeing your face . . .”

“Made it that much worse.”

She laughed in protest. “No. I didn’t mean that.”

“As I recall it, you burst into tears.”

She ducked her chin and gave him a sidelong glance. “Can this be a flash of humor? From the stern, intimidating Corporal Thorne?”

He said nothing. She watched him feed the puppy scraps of bread dipped in milk.

“My goodness,” she said. “What will be your next trick, I wonder? A blink? A smile? Don’t laugh, or I may faint dead away.”

Her tone was one of mild teasing, but she meant every word. She was already suffering these fierce pangs of infatuation on the basis of his looks and strength alone. If he revealed a streak of sharp wit in the bargain, she might be in desperate straits.

Fortunately for her vulnerable emotions, he responded with his usual absence of charm. “I’m the lieutenant of the Spindle Cove militia in Lord Rycliff’s absence. You’re a resident of Spindle Cove. It was my duty to help you and see you home safe. That’s all.”

“Well,” she said, “I’m fortunate to fall within the scope of your duty. The mishap with the cart driver truly was my fault. I’d dashed into the lane without looking.”

“What happened beforehand?” he asked.

“What makes you think something happened beforehand?”

“It’s not like you to be that distracted.”

It’s not like you.

Kate chewed her bread slowly. He was correct, perhaps, but what an odd thing for him to say. He avoided her like a sparrow avoids snow. What right had he to decide what was and wasn’t like her?

But she had no one else to talk to, and no reason to hide the truth.

She swallowed her bite of bread and wrapped her arms about her knees. “I went to pay a call on my old schoolmistress. I was hoping to find some information about my origins. My relations.”

He paused. “And did you?”

“No. She wouldn’t help me find them, she said, even if she could. Because they don’t want to be found. I’d always believed I was an orphan, but apparently I . . .” She blinked hard. “It seems I was abandoned. A child of shame, she called me. No one wanted me then, and no one will want me now.”

They both stared at the horizon, where the oozing egg-yolk sun topped the chalky hills.

She risked a glance at him. “You have nothing to say?”

“Nothing fit for a lady’s hearing.”

She smiled. “But I’m no lady, you see. If I know nothing else of my parentage, I can be certain of that.”

Kate lived in the same rooming house as all the Spindle Cove ladies, and a few were true friends, like Lady Rycliff or Minerva Highwood, lately the new Viscountess Payne. But many others forgot her when they left. In their minds, she fit the same pigeonhole as governesses and companions. She would do for company in a pinch, but only if no one better was available. Sometimes they wrote to her for a while. If their valises were too full, they gave her their cast-off frocks.

She touched the muddied skirt of her pink muslin. Ruined, beyond repair.

At her feet, the puppy had crawled halfway into the milk pail and was happily licking his way back out. Kate reached for the dog, turning him on his back for a playful rub.

“We’re kindred spirits, aren’t we?” she asked the pup. “No proper homes to speak of. No illustrious pedigrees. We’re both a bit funny-looking.”

Corporal Thorne made no attempt to contradict her statement. Kate supposed it was what she deserved, going fishing for compliments in a desert.

“What about you, Corporal Thorne? Where were you raised? Have you any family living?”

He was quiet for an oddly long time, given the straightforward nature of her question.

“Born in Southwark, near London. But I haven’t seen the place in almost twenty years.”

She scanned his face. Despite the gravity in his demeanor, she wouldn’t put him much older than thirty. “You must have left home quite young.”

“Not so young as some.”

“Now that the war is over, you’ve no desire to go back?”

“None.” His gaze caught hers for a moment. “The past is better left behind.”

Point taken, Kate supposed, given the disaster that had been her day. She plucked a long blade of grass and dangled it for the puppy to nip and bat. His long, thin tail whipped back and forth with joy.

“What do you mean to call him?” she asked.

He shrugged. “I don’t know. Patch, I suppose.”

“But that’s horrible. You can’t call him Patch.”

“Why not? He has a patch, doesn’t he?”

“Yes, and that’s exactly why you can’t call him that.” Kate lowered her voice, gathering the pup close and smoothing the splash of rust-colored fur around his right eye. “He’ll be self-conscious. I have a patch, but I shouldn’t like to be named for it. It’s not as though I need a reminder it’s there.”

“This is different. He’s a dog.”

“That doesn’t mean he has no feelings.”