Page 7 of Eight for Losing, One for Loving

“We will return once the season is over. Isn’t that right, Tilly?” Lady Montagu said to her granddaughter.

“I’d rather go now,” the child said gloomily. “But I’m not leaving Papa with all these marriage-minded ninnies chasing him about.”

“Tilly!” Mrs Harris said in exasperation. “Good heavens, child, are you trying to put me to the blush?”

“Don’t fret, Mrs Harris,” Leo said with a grin. “We all know Tilly is a dreadful girl.”

Tilly shot him a grin and got to her feet, unsuccessfully brushing dust from her skirts as Mau had got bored and strolled off. “Dreadful girls are the best sort, aren’t they, Pops?”

Lord Montagu looked from his wife to Mrs Harris and back to Tilly. “Not content with embarrassing Mrs Harris, now you wish to get me a scolding, I see,” he said reproachfully, making Vi choke with laughter.

“But you did say so, Pops!” Tilly insisted.

“Quite dreadful,” Vi murmured with a chuckle, so only Leo could hear.

“Yes, but it was not supposed to be repeated in company, you wicked child,” he said with a sigh. “And they are only the best sort if they know how to behave when they must,” he added firmly.

Tilly pouted at this but went and took her grandfather’s hand and tried her best to look the picture of innocence.

“Tilly Barrington, you are just like your Auntie Cat, and I thought no one could ever be worse than that,” Leo said, laughing, a comment which appeared to make Tilly very happy indeed.

Bidding the Montagus and Mrs Harris a pleasant afternoon, Vi and Leo strolled on for a while longer before turning and retracing their steps, heading back to the carriage.

“If you had the choice, would you like to return to town for the season each year, or would you prefer to stay in the country?” Leo asked.

Vi shrugged. “I have no great liking for too much society, but I should miss visiting friends now and then, and the theatre and concerts, and I enjoy a bit of shopping. But the season is tedious if one must stay for the whole.”

“Quite so,” Leo agreed easily. “Just what I was thinking. We’ll live mostly in the countryside but come to town now and again for a bit of culture and shopping.”

Vi shot a glance at him. “Don’t do that,” she said crossly.

“Do what?” he regarded her with wide celestial blue eyes, the exact colour of the sky above them.

“Make believe that I will change my mind if you just keep nagging me.”

“I have to believe that, or I shall be sunk into gloom,” he replied, looking away from her and watching Mau as he stalked a sparrow.

“For a day or two until something new catches your attention,” Vi remarked. Rather to her surprise, she felt him stiffen and realised the remark had been too harsh. She forgot sometimes that she could hurt Leo’s feelings, for he hurt her so every day without even realising it. “I beg your pardon. Please forget I said that,” she told him contritely.

They walked on in silence for a while until he spoke again. “Do you really think me so shallow, love?”

Vi sighed, shaking her head. “Not shallow, no. Just… Just full of energy and easily distracted, eager for the next interesting thing to divert you.”

He frowned, considering this. “I like the unexpected,” he admitted. “There’s nothing better to me than going out intending to do one thing and finding two or three other things along the way. I like discovering new places, new people, new experiences. Is that wrong?”

“Not in the least, but I like sitting quietly with my embroidery and enjoying the birds singing in the garden.”

“I could like that too. Well, not the embroidery. But I could enjoy being quiet with you.”

Vi shot him a sceptical glance. “You would last precisely five minutes.”

Leo shook his head. “You’re wrong. If we had our own home, if I could wake each morning and know I had that, that bit of peace to begin the day with. I think I should like that.”

Vi blushed at the idea of them waking each morning together, never having heard him say such a thing before. She stared at him in shock, hearing the sincerity in his voice. Don’t believe it, don’t believe him, that way leads to heartbreak, said a panicky voice in her head. Her heart was beating too hard, too fast.

“I wouldn’t say such things if—” he began, and then his head whipped around as a feline shriek of indignity reached his ears. “Mau?”

Vi looked around them, realising she couldn’t see the big cat who rarely strayed far from them. “Mau?” she called.