Page 22 of The Captain of Betrayal
"I don't think you have," James replied, in a sing-song voice; the voice he had used when they were children and he had wished to goad her.
"Well what do you expect?" Polly railed at him with a decade's worth of suppressed fury. "Did you expect me to bow and scrape when you arrived at my door?"
"No—" James began, but Polly cut across him, the need to finally express her hurt superseding any desire to listen to his excuses.
"You were my best friend," she whispered, alarmed at the waver in her voice. She wasn't going to cry, she told herself--it was anger, that was all. "You said that we were family, and then when I needed you the most, you denied that you even knew me. Do you know how pathetic that made me feel? How much it hurt to think that you--of all people--thought me unworthy to even acknowledge? In all my years, I have never felt as low as I did that day, and I will never let anyone--least of all you--make me feel like that again. Do you hear?"
She couldn't say how it happened, but she found herself pulled against James' broad chest, with her tears soaking his good waistcoat. Great sobs wracked her body, and she thought that she would simply fall apart if it weren't for the two strong arms that held her. Eventually her tears stopped and she pulled away from him, wiping her cheeks with the back of her hand.
"I truly am sorry," James whispered, one hand reaching out for hers. His own face was damp with tears, and his eyes, so vivid against their red rims, were hypnotic. "I have spent ten years regretting that one moment Pol. Please believe me, no man has ever been as sorry as I."
"I know," Polly took his hand and gave it a squeeze, offering him a watery smile. "And I do forgive you James, with all my heart."
"I want your hand as well," James whispered fiercely, "I meant what I said."
"Oh hush," Polly gave a startled laugh. "You're galloping along Captain Black, when we've only jumped the first fence. There'll be no talk of rings, which reminds me."
Polly relayed the tale of how Jane Deveraux had examined his mother's ring and thought it to be worth a small fortune.
"Come to the boarding house and I'll give it back to you," she finished. "I couldn't live with the thought that I'd taken something so valuable from you."
"I don't want it back, it belongs to you. No matter what happens, it's yours," James replied simply, but so firmly, that Polly caught a glimpse of the man he had become; unyielding, decisive and used to having people obey his words. There would be no arguing with him, though if she had had the energy she might have tried. As it was, she was exhausted after her emotional outburst--and famished to boot.
"Well then come up and have dinner with us," she offered, throwing him a genuine smile. "I don't suppose you've ever had fish cooked by a duchess?"
"I have not."
"Well if you don't get move on, you never will," Polly called cheerfully, as she gestured for him to follow her back up the road through the village. There was a lightness in her step as she walked, that she suspected had something to do with the fact that her old friend had fallen into step beside her —though she was far too hungry to dissect that thought in detail.
Tomorrow, she thought happily, I'll mull it over tomorrow.
CHAPTER TEN
James had never experienced a meal quite like it. At Emily's insistence, he had taken a seat at the head of the table for dinner and found himself the object of intense scrutiny. Half a dozen ladies stared at him with unconcealed curiosity, their attention only broken when Polly had finished serving and had sat down herself.
"Is anyone going to explain what's going on?" an elderly lady asked, peering openly at James, her eyes sparkling with mischief behind a pair of spectacles. "For I'm far too old to wait for things to reveal themselves over the course of time —I could be dead by the second course."
"No you won't, Mrs Actrol," Polly replied with a warm smile, as she passed a plate of mashed potatoes around the table "For there is no second course."
"Oh, you wicked child," Mrs Actrol gave a hoot of laughter, that rocked her rather ample frame. "Fine--if I cannot threaten you with my tenuous grip on the threads of life, then I don't know what I can do to make you reveal your secrets."
James resisted snorting at Mrs Actrol's words; never had a woman looked less like she was clinging on to life. In fact, the elderly lady seemed tickled pink at the turn of events; her eyes were gleaming and there were two pink spots of excitement on her powdered cheeks.
"Allow me to explain," James said, his deep voice causing every lady's head to turn in his direction. "I am Captain James Black, late of His Majesty's Navy and currently in the employ of the Duke of Everleigh. Polly and I were acquainted as children, and we have recently renewed that acquaintance."
He used his most authoritative voice, and if he had been speaking to anyone else bar Polly's irascible authoress guest, he knew that his statement would have settled matters but, alas, Mrs Actrol was not to be deterred.
"Ah, you are the same Captain Black who called a few nights ago?" she questioned innocently as she cut into her fish, "That same Captain who was told there were no rooms available, when at my count, there were four."
"The very one," James inclined his head, the corners of his lips twitching with a suppressed smile of amusement. He had never faced an interrogation quite like this; all soft smiles and impeccable manners. Give me a drunken brawl in a tavern any day, he thought to himself, as he speared a piece of asparagus with his fork.
"Curious..." was all that Mrs Actrol could say in reply, sensing that in James she had met an opponent who could resist her probing questions.
"James' mother was my teacher," Polly volunteered, obviously wishing to divert the conversation to safer ground. "Mrs Flora Black, she ran a penny school in Newcastle, that was how we met."
"Flora Black?"
Mrs Actrol's veneer of benign curiosity slipped away at the mention of James' mother, her mouth was open with shock and she peered at James, raking him from top to toe with her blue eyes.
