Page 31
She must be more careful, she told herself firmly, and after luncheon, avoided him.
She preferred to call it preserving her time, but by four o’clock she had admitted privately that she was hiding, and by five she had become annoyed enough with herself to cease doing so.
When she went upstairs to dress for dinner, her maid laid a deep green silk gown upon the bed.
“No.”
The maid blinked. “Miss?”
“Not that one. I shall wear the grey wool.”
“The grey wool is rather plain, miss.”
“Precisely.”
Her maid hesitated.
Judith looked at her. The maid said no more. Judith wore the grey wool. She also wore the cap.
When she descended for dinner, Baines was standing near the drawing-room door alone, and for one weak moment Judith wished she had chosen the green gown.
The Major’s evening clothes transformed him in a manner she considered entirely unnecessary. Black superfine fitted broad shoulders that years in uniform had shaped rather better than was reasonable, whilst an understated silver-grey waistcoat and immaculate linen made his complexion seem warmer by contrast. His hair was nearly black in the dimmer light, with a slight wave at the temples which suggested carelessness despite everything else about him indicating discipline.
His eyes met hers: amused and dangerous.
Judith descended the final steps.
“Miss Finch.”
“Major Baines.”
He offered his arm.
She looked at it. “You cannot possibly require assistance crossing ten feet of floor.”
“No. I thought you might.”
“I feared as much.”
She walked past him.
He fell into step beside her.
“Have you been avoiding me?”
“Not at all.”
“Excellent.”
She looked at him. “Why is that excellent?”
“Because I have been looking for you.”
Judith stopped. “For what purpose?”
He looked down at her, and although the teasing quality remained, something quieter had entered his expression.
“I wanted to thank you for Orion.”
