Vane hesitated, then his lips firmed. He swung to face her. "If you like, I'll go and look for him."
He made the offer nonchalantly, leaving her the option of declining without embarrassment.
She looked up, her expression difficult to read. Then color seeped into her cheeks-and Vane knew she was recalling all she'd accused him of only two days before. But she did not look down, did not shift her gaze from his. After a further moment of consideration, she nodded. "If you would, I would be…"
Patience stopped, and blinked-but couldn't stop the word that rose to her lips. "Grateful." Her lips quirked; she looked down.
The next instant, Vane was beside her. Fingers sliding beneath her chin, he tipped her face up. He looked down at her for a long moment, his expression unreadable, then he stooped and touched his lips to hers. "Don't worry-I'll find him."
Instinctively, she returned the kiss. Gripping his wrist, she held him back, searching his face, then squeezed and let him go.
When the door closed behind him, Patience drew a deep, very deep breath.
She'd just placed her trust in an elegant gentleman. More than that, she'd trusted him with the one thing on earth she held most dear. Had he addled her wits? Or had she simply lost them?
For a full minute, she gazed unseeing at the window, then frowned, shook her head, shook her shoulders, and picked up her embroidery. There was no point wrestling with facts. She knew Gerrard was safe with Vane-safer than with any other gentleman within Bellamy Hall, safer than with any other gentleman she'd ever met.
And, she thought, pulling her needle free, while she was on the subject of startling admissions, she might as well admit that she felt relieved as well-relieved that Vane was there, that she wasn't, any longer, Gerrard's sole protector.
As startling admissions went, that took the prize.
"Here, you must be hungry by now." Vane dropped the sack he'd brought onto the grass beside Gerrard, who jumped like a scalded cat.
Gerrard looked around, then stared as Vane lowered himself to the grassy top of the old burial mound. "How did you know I'd be here?"
His gaze on the horizon, Vane shrugged. "Just a guess." A lilting smile touched his lips. "You hid your horse well enough, but you left tracks aplenty."
Gerrard humphed. His gaze fell on the sack. He pulled it closer and opened it.
While Gerrard munched on cold chicken and bread, Vane idly studied the views. After a while, he felt Gerrard's gaze on his face.
"I'm not the Spectre, you know."
Vane raised his brows arrogantly. "I do, as it happens."
"You do?"
"Hmm. I saw him last night-not well enough to recognize but enough to know it definitely wasn't you."
"Oh." After a moment, Gerrard went on, "All that talk of me being the Spectre-well, it always was just so much rot. I mean, as if I'd be silly enough to do such a thing anywhere near Patience." He snorted derisively. "Of course she'd go to look. Why-she's worse than I am." A second later, he asked, "She is all right, isn't she? I mean, her knee?"
Vane's expression hardened. "Her knee's as well as can be expected-she has to stay off it for at least a few days, which, as you can imagine, is not improving her temper. At the moment, however, she's worrying-about you."
Gerrard colored. Looking down, he swallowed. "I lost my temper. I suppose I'd better go back." He started to pack up the sack.
Vane halted him. "Yes, we'd better get back and put a stop to her worrying, but you haven't asked about our plan."
Gerrard looked up. "Plan?"
Vane filled him in. "So, you see, we need you to continue to behave"-he gestured widely-"exactly as you have been-like a sapskull with his nose put out of joint."
Gerrard chuckled. "All right, but I am allowed to sneer dismissively, aren't I?"
"As much as you like, just don't forget your role."
"Minnie knows? And Timms?"
Vane nodded and got to his feet. "And Masters and Mrs. Henderson. I told Minnie and Timms this morning. As the staff are all reliable, there seemed little point keeping them in the dark, and we can use all the eyes we can get."