The Wagered Widow by Patricia Veryan Page B

enough. I will not bore on about my lamentable past—it was all very long ago.”
    Intrigued despite herself, she said, “You cannot be that old, surely!”
    Down went his head once more. He said meekly, “I was but nineteen at the time.”
    â€œOh, my! And—and the lady?”
    â€œOlder.”
    This was a most improper conversation that must not be pursued. Rebecca lowered her voice and probed, “ Much older?”
    â€œFifteen years.”
    â€œBut—but … she must have been nigh twice your age!”
    â€œBut very lovely, ma’am. One of your ethereal beauties. I worshipped her.”
    â€œAnd—she betrayed you?”
    A reluctant nod of that abased head. Waiting, fascinated by the story her romantic heart could relate to so well, Rebecca asked, “But—you did run away with her?”
    He nodded again, but said nothing for a moment. Then in a remote, sad voice, he murmured, “She left me. After three glorious days. And nights.”
    â€œHow dreadful,” she breathed, overlooking the innuendo. “But—could you not have prevented her?”
    â€œYou must be thinking me a very great fool. And rightly so. But—I was in no condition to prevent anything, ma’am.”
    â€œNo con— A duel? ” she gasped. “The lady’s father or brother, perhaps?”
    â€œNothing so proper, I grieve to confess. We were overtaken by her—lover.”
    Rebecca’s eyes were very round indeed. “She had—more than—than you?”
    â€œAlas, had I but known that ghastly truth, I could have spared myself a mortifying and painful defeat.”
    â€œGood … God!” Breathless, she could all but see that misty field in the dawning, and the valiant youth fighting vainly, staggering back at last to lie with his blood soaking and soaking into the dewy grass.… Clasping her hands, she cried, “Never say they just went off and left you lying there? Whatever happened to you?”
    â€œI recovered, of course. Eventually.” He said heavily, “But—the word had got out, you see. My reputation was forever fouled. Dishonour … disgrace … inevitable and unrelenting.”
    A lump came into her throat. Almost she could have wept for that cruelly betrayed youth. “And—the lady?” she asked in a much more kindly tone. “What became of her?”
    â€œShe chose to stay with her lover.” He looked at her, his eyes grave. “The last time I visited her, she had twelve children.”
    Rebecca’s jaw sagged. “Tw—twelve…? And—and you visited her?”
    â€œIt’s dashed difficult to avoid them, Fair One. You see, as it turned out, the lady’s secret lover was—my grandpapa.”
    The gleam was in the grey eyes with a vengeance. The quirk beside the thin lips could no longer be contained and spread into a wide grin.
    â€œOh!” exclaimed Rebecca furiously. “Odious! Horrid—deceiving— creature! ”
    With a shout of laughter, de Villars stood. “That will teach you, m’dear, to be a little more gracious when someone does you a very large favour!” He started back to The Monahan, who had awoken and was watching them with mild curiosity.
    â€œWretch!” Rebecca hissed, jabbing her hatpin furiously in amongst the fruit around the crown of her hat. “Monstrous— rake! ”
    De Villars retraced his steps and placed one hand on the side of her chair to lean above her. “You are extreme lovely when you are kind, Little Parrish. But even more delicious, I think, when you are angered.”
    Not deigning him an answer, Rebecca turned towards the river, put back her head, and closed her eyes.
    Chuckling, de Villars went away.
    Rebecca lay there, fuming. Gradually, however, the warmth, the delicious meal, the soft song of the river, combined to dull her indignation. She thought,