Deanna Raybourn - Night of a Thousand Stars

Father lifted an elegant brow. “I was thinking of something a trifle less life-threatening.”

I was about to suggest rally-car driving when George appeared in the doorway. “It’s that Mr. Cantrip,” he said darkly.

Father smoothed his turquoise waistcoat. “Very well. Send him through, George.”

I was still immersed in the article about Evangeline Merryweather Starke when Sebastian entered and Father greeted him coolly.

“Good morning, Mr. Cantrip. I trust you had a good night’s sleep at the inn?”

“Very good, thanks. Good morning, Miss March.” The name took me aback for a moment then I grinned to myself. I had played at being Miss Hammond for too long. It was time to reclaim my own name once and for all.

I looked up and flashed him a quick smile. “Good morning.” My face fell as I took a closer look at him. A spectacular bruise was blossoming on his jaw, and I jumped to my feet.

“Oh, heavens! It’s worse than I thought last night. I still can’t quite believe Gerald did that to you. He’s always seemed so mild-mannered.”

Sebastian touched his jaw ruefully. “Yes, well, apparently still waters run deep in his case.” He glanced down at the newspaper on the table. “I see you’ve the morning edition there. I suppose they’ve been rude about you?”

I pulled a face. “Brutal. As expected. One doesn’t just jilt a peer’s son with impunity,” I said with an attempt at lightness. “But I’m far more interested in this story about the aviatrix who’s gone missing in Syria.”

I handed the newspaper to Sebastian, who skimmed the article quickly. He gave it back without a word and I looked at him curiously. “Are you quite all right, Mr. Cantrip? You’ve gone very white under that bruise.”

Sebastian summoned a smile that didn’t quite meet his eyes. “Have I? I suppose it’s just the delayed effects of yesterday’s dramatics. Shock and all that. I’ll be right as rain in a bit.”

“Won’t you have some breakfast?” Father asked him, his expression thoughtful.

“No, sir, thank you. They fed me quite heartily at the inn. I merely wanted to pay my respects on my way back to London.”

“You’re going back? Already?” I masked the pang I felt with a quick smile. “Of course you are. You have a parish there, and I’ve managed to drag you away from it and through the muck. Shall I see you out?”

He followed me to the front door of the cottage.

“I know what you’re worried about,” I said, pitching my voice low. “But you aren’t named in the newspaper piece,” I assured him. “They haven’t any idea how I got away, and I won’t tell a soul. I ought to have realised what awful trouble you could get into by helping me, and I won’t forget it. Really, I owe you most dreadfully and I never forget a debt.”

He shook his head, his expression dazed. “You are a unique young woman, Miss March.” He hesitated on the doorstep. “I wish I didn’t have to dash away.”

“So do I,” I told him. “I feel as if I’ve just imposed on you horribly and haven’t had the chance to make it up to you.”

For an instant the buccaneer flash was back in his eyes, and I wondered just how hard he found it to be a properly behaved member of the clergy. “Would you like to make it up to me?”

I felt a thrill at his audacity, but I primmed my mouth, remembering propriety for once.

“Thank you. For everything.” I put out my hand, but he ignored it. Instead he settled both of his hands on my shoulders, leaning down to brush a quick kiss to my cheek. He hadn’t shaved, and his whiskers rasped a little against my skin. Before I could respond, he was gone, out the door and out of my life as quickly as he’d come.

I closed the door behind him feeling a little deflated and oddly nostalgic. He had been a perfect companion in my little adventure, and I could never have managed my escape without him. After months of Gerald’s chilly affections, being around Sebastian had been like basking in summer sunshine. It was absurd, I told myself firmly. I had only just met him. One couldn’t get homesick for a person.

When I returned to the breakfast table, Father was looking thoughtfully at the newspaper I’d left behind.

“Everything all right, Father?”

He gave me a bland smile. “Quite, my dear. Now, finish your breakfast and perhaps you and Masterman would like to take a nice walk and get acquainted with the village. This will be your home for as long as you like.”

* * *

It took fewer than twenty minutes to walk completely around the village, and by the time I finished I had a pebble in my shoe and had counted precisely seventeen front curtains twitch as we walked past.

“It seems the entire village has already heard about our arrival,” I told Masterman.

She pursed her lips. “People are the same wherever you go, miss—interested in gossip and scandal, and you’ve given them meat enough to feed on for a year.”

We had just come to the pond on the village green and I stopped. I had been considering how to approach her ever since she had told Mother she would stay with me. It wasn’t that I didn’t like Masterman, not exactly. But she was my last tie to Gerald’s family and my near-miss as the future Viscountess Madderley. The sooner I severed that connection, the better. Besides, there was something uncanny about her, a quiet watchfulness I didn’t entirely understand.

I cleared my throat. “It’s really very good of you to stay on, all things considered.” I chose my words carefully. “After all, working for me won’t exactly count in your favour when you apply for a new position.”

She said nothing as we walked on, and I decided to push just a little further. “I mean, you won’t want to go on working for me forever. I don’t even know what my plans will be.”

“I am certain you will figure it out,” she said mildly.

I suppressed a sigh. She was going to be difficult to dislodge, I decided. And the only solution was a more direct approach.

“See here, Masterman—”

She turned to look at me, her hazel eyes placid. There was a slightly greenish cast to them, like a mossy stone on a riverbed. “I am not leaving, miss.”

I gaped at her. “How on earth did you know that’s what I was about to suggest?”

She shrugged. “It’s only logical. Mrs. Hammond suggested it last night and you lit up like Bonfire Night.”

I ducked my head. “That wasn’t very kind of me. I apologise, Masterman. And it isn’t that I don’t like you. You mustn’t think that.”

“I don’t,” she replied with that same unflappable calm.

“Oh, well, good. Because I do,” I assured her with a fatuous smile. “It’s just that—”

“I make you uncomfortable,” she supplied.

“That’s not at all what I meant to say,” I said, feeling my cheeks flush warmly.

“But it is what you feel,” she said. There was no malice in her voice and her gaze was calm and level. I heaved a sigh.

“Very well. Yes. You make me uncomfortable. I’m afraid you’ll always be a reminder of how badly I behaved.”

“But I don’t think you did behave badly,” she told me.

I stared at her a long moment. “That might be the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

“It happens to be true,” she said. She began to walk and I hurried after, suddenly eager to talk to her. There was something curiously topsy-turvy about the mistress chasing after the maid, and I grinned as I caught up to her.

“You don’t think I ought to have married Gerald?”

“Absolutely not. Miss March, what do you think a servant’s chief responsibility is?”

I thought of the endless round of brushing clothes and whipping hems and pinning hair and shrugged.