‘I set off a day earlier than I had originally intended.’
She wondered whether to tell him the reason for it, but her maid came in at that moment and she let it go.
‘These are very beautiful, Bertrand, it was so kind of you to think of me.’
He stepped closer to the table where she was arr
anging the flowers in a blue and white vase.
‘It is my pleasure, Mademoiselle Mary. Did you miss your friends in Brussels? I might hope that was the reason you hurried your return.’
His meaning was as clear as the ardent glow in his dark eyes. Bertrand Lebbeke had become a good friend to her over the last year and she knew he would like to be even more than that, but although he was good company and not unattractive, something had held her back from encouraging him. After meeting Lord Randall she knew now what was missing. She felt no spark, no attraction for him. Stifling a sigh, she moved away, wondering how best to respond.
‘Bertrand, I—’
‘Milord Randall, mademoiselle.’
Mary jumped as Jacques made the announcement and she felt the telltale blush rising to her cheeks.
‘Lord Randall, good morning to you.’
She could manage no more. Her throat dried as he strode in, severely impressive in his dark blue uniform. He looked particularly forbidding as his eyes swept around the room and came to rest upon Bertrand. Mary coughed to clear whatever it was that blocked her throat.
‘Do you know Dr Lebbeke, my lord? He is an invaluable support to me whenever there is illness in the school.’
‘No, we have not met.’ The earl inclined his head slightly in brief acknowledgement of the doctor before he placed his hat and gloves on the table. ‘Since I only arrived in Brussels yesterday that is not surprising.’
‘No indeed,’ agreed Bertrand pleasantly, returning his bow.
‘I came merely to see how you go on,’ Lord Randall addressed himself to Mary. ‘To ascertain that you were not too fatigued by the journey yesterday.’
Bertrand’s dark brows went up and Mary hurried to explain.
‘Lord Randall was kind enough to bring me from England in his own carriage. We met by chance in Sussex where I was staying with my cousins, the Bentincks. I was at school with his sister, you see.’
Be quiet, Mary, you sound quite hen-witted.
She knew she was gabbling and closed her lips firmly upon any further inane utterances, but her explanation appeared to satisfy Bertrand, who turned back to address the earl.
‘You are with the Allied forces, my lord?’
‘Yes. Artillery. And you are a doctor? I fear we may need your services in the coming months, although I wish it were not so.’
‘I shall be ready,’ Bertrand answered. ‘I have some knowledge of war injuries. I was for ten years ship’s surgeon with the French navy, until Bonaparte’s abdication. I hope you will not hold that against me?’
‘Your calling is to save lives, Bertrand, is it not?’ said Mary quietly.
‘It is, Mademoiselle Mary.’ Bertrand smiled at her. ‘Regardless of nationality.’
Mary returned his smile, aware that Randall’s countenance had become even more stony. He walked to the window and stood there, silently staring out. It was like being in a room with two dogs who would start snarling at one another any moment.
She said quickly, ‘Will you not sit down, sirs? I was about to send for refreshments.’
‘Mais non, merci,’ said Bertrand. ‘You are very kind, but I have the appointment that will not wait and must take my leave.’ He saluted her fingers, bowed to Lord Randall and was gone.
‘Full of Gallic charm,’ remarked the earl drily.
‘He is from Flanders, my lord, he is not French.’