Page 3 of The Bachelor
And would continue to make as long as Lionel was about.
“I wish you’d killed him,” she muttered as Major Wolfe approached her, keeping his eye on the retreating Lionel.
Once Lionel climbed into his phaeton and drove away, Major Wolfe relaxed his stance. Then he shoved the large, odd-looking pistol into the capacious pocket of the ragged greatcoat she’d always seen him wear when working on the estate.
“I’ll accompany you back to the hall.” When she opened her mouth to protest, he added, “Just in case Malet is lurking nearby, waiting to get a chance at you again.”
Oh. That was certainly a good point. “Thank you for coming to my rescue.”
He nodded, taciturn as always, and gestured for her to go ahead of him. They crossed the bridge and climbed the hill for some time in silence, with her casting him furtive glances every few steps. Lord, but the man was handsome—unfashionably so, with his long black hair tied in a queue by a simple leather cord—but handsome nonetheless.
Some would say his jaw was too jutting and his lips too thin to be called attractive, and that might be true. Personally, she found the combination arresting. But it was his hazel eyes that distinguished him from every other man she’d ever met, even Heywood, whose eyes were also hazel. The major’s were the color of dark honey, a golden color so unusual that she could stare at them all day.
Not that she’d had many chances. When his sister Bea had been on the estate, Gwyn had seen him more often, but once Bea had married, he’d seemed determined not to associate with anyone who lived in Armitage Hall.
That didn’t keep the maids from whispering about him—how he looked, what he said, what he did. One had even stated that she would marry Major Wolfe in a heartbeat, lame leg or no. Yet he seemed to have no idea of his appeal to the female sex, or surely he’d have taken a wife by now. According to his sister, he was already thirty-one.
“What did Malet want?” Major Wolfe finally asked.
She was glad she had a plausible explanation ready for him. “To make me go with him. That’s why I brandished the pistol.”
Major Wolfe searched her face. “Since when do you carry a pistol with you on Armitage land?”
“Since Mr. Malet told Heywood that he meant to kidnap me in revenge for something Heywood and his friend did abroad,” she snapped.
“Malet made that threat four months ago,” Major Wolfe pointed out. “It’s odd that he waited until now to attempt it.”
“Perhaps he was waiting until our guard was down,” she said dryly. “Or perhaps he had tried courting an heiress who wouldn’t know all about his wicked intentions, and she didn’t prove viable, so he fell back on his old ways.”
“And you just happened to be roaming the estate with your brother’s unloaded pistol when Malet came looking to kidnap you.”
She knew perfectly well that Major Wolfe wasn’t credulous enough to believethat. Then an idea struck her. “Thorn heard that Mr. Malet was nosing around in Sanforth, so he warned me to keep an eye out.”
“Your brother is presently in residence at the hall?”
“Yes. And he gave me his pocket pistol for protection.”
“A valuable, unloaded pistol that he didn’t teach you how to load or shoot? That seems reckless of him, and your twin has never struck me as the reckless sort.”
“You’d be surprised,” she muttered. A pox on Major Wolfe and his military mind. This was not going well.
“What’s more, you and Malet seemed to know each other, at least well enough to be exchanging confidences.”
“Confidences! Don’t be silly. Whatever you think you saw isn’t what you’re implying.”
“Hmm. If you say so.” Major Wolfe moved along the path through the woods at a surprisingly good pace given his damaged leg. “Why is your brother here anyway? Doesn’t he have an estate of his own to run?”
“Of course, but he decided to accompany me and Mama to London for the Season. I am to be presented at court and have my debut in society, you know.”
“I’m well aware,” he said tensely.
What wasthatsupposed to mean?
Oh, he must be thinking of his sister Bea, and the fact that she was being presented as well, but as Grey’s new wife, the Duchess of Greycourt.
“Fortunately,” he went on, “today’s incident will impress upon Thornstock the need to keep a closer eye on you and your suitors in London.”
The statement was so typically male and arrogant that she was about to blister his ears over his presumption when the greater implications of his words hit her. “Surely you don’t mean to tell Thorn about this.”
