When at last they drew apart, they were both breathless and shaking.
“What is it?” he gasped, staring at her frantic expression and teary eyes. “Sweetheart, what has happened?”
She opened her mouth as if to tell him, but just then they heard voices drawing closer along the path, beyond the trees, and she shook her head and pulled away. “I’m sorry,” she said huskily. “I shouldn’t have done that. I’m sorry, Richard. I’ve ruined everything; I can’t do anything right.”
“Tina, please, there’s nothing to be sorry about. Let me help you.”
“You can’t help me.”
He could see that she believed it, and he wanted to kiss her again until she capitulated, but those blasted voices were getting louder and closer, and, any moment, they would be seen. Suddenly an audience didn’t seem such a good idea.
“I’ll come to your room.” He said the words instinctively, without thought, only knowing he must. “Tonight. Tell me then.”
She went still. She probably couldn’t believe he’d said something so indecent; he could hardly believe it himself. But what else could he do? They needed privacy, and he needed to know what was going on.
“I just want to talk,” he said to reassure her, with a quick glance at the strolling guests fast approaching. “Tina?”
She nodded, just once, and then she was walking away from him, her pace quickening, and he let her go.
Richard felt frustrated and angry. He was a man who was in total control of his life, but somehow
that urge to control had grown to also include Tina. He wanted to protect her, help her, cherish her, and he wouldn’t be denied. Thinking of her tear-stained face again, he wondered what in God’s name had happened to upset her.
Was it Gilfoyle?
His face darkened.
Of course it must be Gilfoyle. He’d hurt her or-or insulted her. Richard began walking purposefully toward the pavilion until he came within sight of it and the milling guests. There he was, laughing with a group of his admirers, blond hair bright in the sunshine.
Richard stood and stared at him and it took an immense effort of will not to keep walking, drag Gilfoyle away from his friends, and punch him in his smug mouth. He squeezed his hands into fists, rigid with fury, trying to regain his reason. There was a violence inside him, a recklessness, that threatened to overcome the current need for calm common sense.
He reminded himself that Gilfoyle was not going to get away with his behavior. He was a liar and quite possibly a murderer, and soon, very soon, Richard was going to unleash his vengeance upon Lord Horace in a way he would never forget.
One of Arlington Hall’s upper footmen had been hanging about Maria, but Archie followed them to the landing on the servants’ stairs and soon saw him off. Maria stood in the sunshine that glinted through the window and smiled.
“You frightened him with your fierce expression,” she said.
“Good. He’s too young for you.”
Maria lost her smile. “Too young?”
“You need a more mature sort of man.”
She laughed then, quietly, intimately.
Archie had hardly seen her since they reached Arlington Hall. The servants here were strictly regimented, men in one area and women in the other, and although they all ate together, there was also a strict precedence when it came to seating arrangements. And that blasted upper footman was always putting his nose in where it wasn’t wanted.
He also suspected Maria had been avoiding him, and he suspected he knew why. He’d been keeping secrets from her, and she didn’t approve.
“I was hoping to speak to you,” she said, interrupting his thoughts. “I was going to come and find you in the men’s quarters if I had to.”
“That’s very bold.”
“It was necessary. I’m worried about Sir Henry’s being shot.”
Archie felt his expression go tense and a little cagey. He knew Mr. Eversham wouldn’t like him talking about this, and yet Maria had a way of wheedling things out of him, and he was beginning to think she was far better at wheedling than he. Besides, he preferred to be honest with her.
“Is your master involved in this, Archie?”