After he’d finished eating Valentine went off to search the meadow for his own personal treasure, while George lay back replete and closed his eyes. Marissa observed the play of light on the water of the pond, or amused herself watching the family of swallows who had made their home in the roof of the mill. The parents flitted back and forth, finding morsels to bring back to their noisy and hungry babies.
“What is this about Bohemians?” George murmured, opening one eye to look at her.
“Your brother brought the subject up, you should ask him.”
“You don’t seem at all intimidated by him, Marissa. Women sometimes are. They either try too hard to please him or make excuses to leave.”
“He’s a clever and interesting man,” she said uncomfortably.
“And you say what you feel, Marissa. Valentine appreciates women who say what they feel.”
“Does he?”
She turned to look across to the other side of the meadow, where the man in question was standing, head bent, the sunlight turning strands of his hair to gold. Perhaps there was something wistful in her gaze, although she tried hard not to let it show, because George reached out to give her hand a brotherly pat.
“We are friends, aren’t we, Marissa? You’ve forgiven me for abandoning you?”
“Of course I have,” she said. “And yes, we are friends, George.”
“You know, I only have your best interests at heart.”
Puzzled now, Marissa sat up straighter. “Whatever do you mean, George?”
But he had jumped to his feet and was standing over her, a silhouette against the sun that was beginning to eat into their patch of shade. “You may not have noticed, but there was a poster fixed to the door of the inn in Magna Midcombe.”
“Do you mean that poster of the dreadful boxing match you were staring at while your brother was trying to find out about the Fortescues?”
“Ah, but you only say that because you don’t understand the finer points of boxing. One of the combatants happens to be the Dorking Destroyer.”
“Good heavens.”
“The match begins in…” He took out his pocket watch and perused it. “In twenty minutes.”
Marissa shaded her eyes and looked up at him, waiting for what she knew was about to come next.
“Marissa?”
“Yes, George?”
“Would you be very disappointed if I returned to Magna Midcombe and left you in Valentine’s care?”
“Oh, George. How can you give up such a lovely day to watch a brutal, sweaty boxing match?”
Laughter gleamed in his eyes. “I knew you’d understand.”
“I don’t understand at all, but if you must go then I won’t stop you.”
He rested his hand on her shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “I’ll probably stay for a round or two of drinks with the locals and then toddle off home later. So don’t worry about waiting for me.”
“George…!” she protested.
But he only grinned at her and strode across to his horse. With a wave of his hand, he kicked the animal into a fast trot and set off toward the gate, and the road to Magna Midcombe.
Chapter 14
Self-centered, self-indulgent, irresponsible…” Marissa muttered to herself as she cast her gaze around the meadow, searching for Valentine. This time she found him stooping to peer into a thicket of weeds. As she watched he straightened, and she saw his head turn sharply as George galloped by, no doubt in response to George’s shout. For a moment he gazed after his brother’s receding figure, and then he spun around to face Marissa. She felt her heart begin to beat faster as, with long, urgent strides, he started to make his way through the tall grass toward her.
“He’s gone to a boxing match in Magna Midcombe,” she said, when he was close enough to hear her, and before he could speak himself. “He said he’d make his own way home afterward.”