She turned to face him-he was still holding the vase.
"Where do you want this?"
She gestured down the gallery. "If you'll put it on the table at the end, I'll get my parasol and meet you in the hall."
She didn't wait for his nod but headed for her room-her steps eager, her heart lighter, even if she'd yet to meet his eyes directly. They had to get past this silly hitch in their friendship, over the hurdle of yesterday-a drive would be a good start.
A good start to what she was no longer sure by the time Demon turned his bays back up the manor drive. She'd imagined they'd simply slide back to their earlier, easy friendship-she'd expected, after the initial, inevitable stiffness evaporated, to once again encounter the teasing light she'd so often seen in his blue eyes.
Instead…
Angling her parasol, she studied his face as he tooled the curricle up the drive. Shadows from the enclosing trees wreathed his features, but they did nothing to soften the patriarchal lines of his nose and chin. His was an angular face, high cheekbones shadowing the long planes of his cheeks, a broad forehead above large eyes. A hard face, its austerity seductively flavored by the frankly sensual line of his thin lips, the brooding languor of his heavy lids.
She had never really looked, not so deeply. His had been the face of a man she'd thought she'd known. She was no longer so sure of that.
Realigning her parasol, she looked ahead as they swept out of the trees and bowled along beside the lawns. The end of the drive was in sight, and she'd yet to understand why his teasing looks had been replaced by glances much more direct, much more unnerving. Much more intent. She'd yet to determine where he thought they were heading. Only then could she decide whether she agreed with him or not.
Demon sent the bays into a tight curve so that the curricle fetched up neatly before the steps. He tied off the reins and stepped down, hiding his satisfied smile, along with his awareness of the puzzled looks Flick continued to direct his way.
Strolling around the carriage, he helped her down; releasing her hand, he strolled beside her up the steps. Glancing at her, he met her blue gaze, his expression mild and urbane. "If you would, tell the General that I'm checking into those horses he mentioned yesterday. I'll call on him tomorrow."
She searched his eyes, then nodded. "Yes, of course."
He smiled easily. "I hope you enjoyed our drive."
"Oh-yes. It was very pleasant. Thank you."
His smile deepened. "Your enjoyment is all the thanks I need." Reaching beyond her, he jangled the doorbell. Releasing it, he held her gaze for an instant, then bowed, exquisitely correct. "I'll leave you then. Good-bye."
He turned and strolled down the steps, her hesitant farewell drifting after him. The front door opened as he climbed into the curricle and took up the reins; as he wheeled his team, he glimpsed her, parasol still open, standing on the steps watching him drive away.
His lips curved. It wasn't difficult to envision the look on her face-the puzzled frown in her big blue eyes. Smiling more definitely, he whipped up his horses and headed for the Heath.
He returned to the manor at eleven o'clock the next morning, ostensibly to see the General.
Jacobs opened the door to him; Demon crossed the threshold to discover a sermon in progress. Fittingly, it was being delivered by the vicar's wife, Mrs. Pemberton, a trenchantly good-hearted lady. Her venue was the front hall, her audience Mrs. Fogarty and Jacobs, who, Demon noted, had left the front door wide open. He deduced Mrs. Pemberton was on the point of departure.
His appearance proved a distraction, making Mrs. Pemberton lose her thread. Then she recognized him and regrouped. "Mr. Cynster! Perfect!"
Demon suppressed a wince.
Mrs. Pemberton bustled up. "I've just been asking after the General-I understand he's presently 'not to be disturbed.' " Casting a severe glance at Fogarty, Mrs. Pemberton laid a hand on Demon's sleeve. "I have a very important message for him-I would take it most kindly if you would convey it to him when next you have the pleasure of seeing him."
Mrs. Pemberton was no fool. Taking the hand she offered, Demon shook it. "Only too pleased, ma'am." He could hardly refuse.
"Excellent. Now my point is this-" She fixed her eye on Fogarty. "Thank you-I won't need to disturb you further, Mrs. Fogarty."
Fogarty sent a meaningful look Demon's way, then curtsied and withdrew.
Turning, Mrs. Pemberton fixed her sights on Jacobs. "Mr. Cynster will see me to the door. Please convey my compliments to Miss Parteger when she comes in."
Jacobs stiffened but had to bow, close the door, and withdraw, too.
Mrs. Pemberton sighed and met Demon's eye. "I know they're only trying to protect the General, but really! He can't simply go to ground in his library all the time-not when he's the guardian of a young lady."
Elegantly, Demon gestured to the padded seat lining the alcove at the rear of the hall. Mrs. Pemberton consented to sit. Folding her hands over her reticule, she fixed her gaze on his face as he sat alongside her.
"My purpose in calling is to bring the General to an understanding of his duties in relation to Miss Parteger. It's all gone reasonably well until now, but she's reached an age where he really needs to take a more active role."