‘My goodness, speaking of new faces—’ Violet gave her arm a little tug. ‘I do not recognise that gentleman. Just ahead of us, speaking to the Vicar.’ She stopped and pretended to admire the pink blossoms of a late-blooming rose that tumbled over the wall. ‘A very well-set-up man, I must say. I wonder if he is staying locally.’
Jane pulled a flower down to her nose as though to smell it and peered through the foliage. The man talking to the Vicar was partially obscured by the leaves, but she could tell that he was tall, broad-shouldered and well dressed. He had a pair of very fine boots, she noted, following the line of his legs down. He would be a pleasure to draw, Jane thought as he raised his hat to the Vicar and the two stepped apart.
Then the Vicar must have seen them. He raised a hand in greeting to Violet and said something to the stranger who turned.
‘Oh.’ It was not a stranger and Jane had had the pleasure of drawing him already.
‘What is it, dear?’ Violet looked at her, clearly puzzled.
‘Miss Lowry?’ The stranger was upon them. He raised his hat politely. ‘I hope you will excuse me accosting you without an introduction, but the Vicar pointed you out to me.’ He turned and smiled at Jane. ‘I had the pleasure of making Miss Newnham’s acquaintance in Kensington and I was calling to enquire if you had a safe journey, ma’am.’ He turned back to Violet. ‘I am Kendall.’
Chapter Seven
Cousin Violet might not mix in aristocratic circles, but she certainly knew the names of the families from the great houses that ringed Bath and she was not intimidated by meeting a representative of one of them. ‘Lord Kendall.’ Her slight curtsy was perfectly judged, too.
She and the Earl made a striking, if improbable, couple, Jane thought, mentally composing a picture of the encounter. Violet did not have a figure perfectly suited to the styles of the day, but she had good taste and the independence of thought to adapt the mode to suit herself and she did not look out of place alongside Ivo’s unfamiliar elegance. Studying them served to calm her jittering nerves a little. What on earth was Ivo doing here in Batheaston? At least now she knew he had reached Merton Tower safely.
‘How fortunate that you encountered us, Lord Kendall,’ she said, recovering enough from the surprise to be puzzled. ‘Quite a coincidence as I do not believe you had either my cousin’s direction or her surname.’
‘I realised that your Cousin Violet would be among the gentry listed in the Bath Directory and there is only the one lady in Batheaston with such a charming forename. Then I was fortunate enough to encounter your Vicar as I was searching for the address.’
Ivo seemed to have acquired a particularly smooth manner along with his smart wardrobe, Jane thought, watching him suspiciously.
‘And we are just on our way home,’ Violet said. ‘We came out so that I could show Miss Newnham Mrs Broughton’s spectacular rose. We ladies are very enthusiastic about gardening in Batheaston.’
You cunning thing! Jane thought admiringly. They had been heading in the opposite direction to Violet’s house with no intention of turning back for at least another twenty minutes or so. Admiration gave way to mild panic as Ivo took his place between them, offered each an arm and proceeded to stroll back along the High Street.
What does he want?
Not to betray their unconventional journey, it seemed, not with that reference to Kensington, as though their meeting had been on some social occasion.
Ivo kept up a stream of polite talk all the way back. He encouraged Violet to hold forth on the Ladies’ Gardening Gathering, admired the architecture and enquired about the flood risk with the Avon, it being so close to the main street.
Jane, her hand tucked into his left elbow, tried a warning squeeze, hoping he would take the hint to be tactful. Under her fingers his arm felt very solid. Then she recalled that this was his injured side. ‘Sorry,’ she whispered.
Not quietly enough, it seemed. ‘I beg your pardon, Jane dear,’ Violet said, leaning forward a little to see around Ivo.
‘I was just... I was concerned that I might be hurting Lord Kendall’s arm. I heard he had sustained an injury to his shoulder.’
‘It is healing well now, thank you, Miss Newnham.’
The wretched man sounded as though he was smiling. She kept her gaze firmly forward, blinkered by the sides of her bonnet.
‘A war wound, Lord Kendall?’ Violet asked. ‘I believe I am correct in thinking you have been serving in the army?’
‘I have been, but I am in the process of selling out now in order to support my grandfather. And it was not a battle injury, merely an accident, Miss Lowry.’
Jane restrained herself from leaning heavily on his arm.
‘Even so, your grandfather must be so relieved that you are home safely from the wars. Now, here we are, my cottage.’
‘Delightful.’ Ivo stopped at the gate and admired the mellow stone and the bountiful garden. ‘I can understand why Miss Newnham was so happy to be leaving the dirt and smoke of London for this.’
Violet, leading the way down the front path, might be flattered, but she was no fool. ‘Your acquaintance with my cousin is a recent one, I gather.’
‘Fairly recent, yes. We were introduced by some acquaintances of the sister of one of my late army friends.’
They were inside the hallway now and the maid came to meet them, taking bonnets and reticules and Ivo’s hat and cane. Jane caught him glancing at her and rolled her eyes. She was not certain whether she was more relieved at his smooth answers or annoyed at how easily he could turn awkward truth into acceptable fiction. There was a twitch of his lips, but whether it was a smile or a rueful acknowledgement of her unspoken re