“No time like the present.” As if he had any intention of leaving the field clear while Delia was in the room. “Besides, he can note the damage while it’s fresh.”
“A good thought, sir. Do you wish to accost him now?”
But Giff’s eyes were searching for a particular freckled face. Where the devil was Delia? Then he found her, and suffered a shock. She was sitting with her aunt, who was in company with none other than his great-uncle.
With difficulty, he refrained from exclamation. He was here as Mr Giffard. He could not acknowledge the rector as his relative. Would Uncle George hail him? Or had Delia had the sense to warn him somehow?
He had no chance to discover immediately, for no sooner did Tarporley urge him forward than the battle-axe happened to turn and catch sight of him.
“There he is at last!” She beckoned, raising her voice. “Over here, Mr Giffard!”
Before he could advance more than a couple of feet, the woman was cutting a swathe through the bodies intervening between them, dragging the redcoat along with her, talking all the time.
“See here, Captain? This is the result of your men failing in their duty! If they had captured those felons in the first place, this would not have happened, for I have it from Miss Burloyne that the ruffian who escaped is none other than the creature who has been menacing the town along with his accomplice.”
The deuce! What had his flower girl done?
“And she is best placed to know,” went on Miss Watkinson, red in the face and clearly on the warpath, “since she believes he may be the very same who attacked poor Lady Matterson on the road.”
The captain, Giff was glad to note, was a fellow of somewhat swarthy complexion though of superior height and with a good figure and an unmistakeably soldierly bearing. He looked none too pleased at being told his business, and no wonder. He dipped his head in a slight bow towards the two men.
“I am Captain Rhoades.” His eye found Giff’s. “You were the victim of this attack, sir?”
“Good heavens, man, you can see he was, can’t you? Mr Giffard, your eye is growing dreadfully bruised! I should think it will turn quite black, and who could be astonished at that? What further proof do you need, Captain? How long do you mean to allow this situation to continue? Until one of us is clubbed to death?”
“Give me leave, madam,” cut in the captain in a clipped tone. And to Giff, “Sir, you look as if you ought to be sitting. Will you not take a chair?”
“Of course he should be sitting down. Good heavens, Mr Giffard! What are you thinking of to be still on your feet? Lord Tarporley, find him a chair this instant!”
Giff was hard put to it not to laugh as Tarporley began to stutter in response. Clearly he was no match for the battle-axe. But the captain was evidently made of sterner stuff.
He glanced around and pointed to a corner. “Over there, out of the way perhaps? I will be glad to hear your account of the incident at first hand.”
“Yes, yes, a good notion,” came in hasty accents from Tarporley. “Let me help you, Giffard.”
The man began urging him across the room towards the designated corner, which was free of persons. Thankfully, Miss Watkinson remained behind, breaking out in a new direction.
“Gracious, I had forgot the hampers! I must see they are brought in so we may at least eat the delicacies, since that is all the enjoyment left to us of our expedition of pleasure.”
With which, she sailed towards the door. To Giff’s amusement, the captain gave an audible sigh of relief and began to clear a path before them.
“If you please, ma’am? Pardon me, sir.”
The noise in the room had become muted. Devil take it, he’d become the centre of attention! Was every eye in the place upon him? He stole a glance towards Delia and caught his uncle’s eye. A faint twitch and a gleam in the old fellow’s faded orbs acknowledged him. Giff breathed more easily. Uncle George would not betray him.
He noted a concerned look in Delia’s face and stopped by her chair. “I trust you are none the worse for our unfortunate contretemps, Miss Burloyne?”
She threw him an indignant look under her lashes, but inclined her head. “I came off far less badly than did you, Mr Giffard.” Her eyes went to the captain in the lead. “You won’t keep him too long occupied, I hope?”
“As long as it takes, ma’am.”
The repressive note caused Giff to suffer a reversal of feeling. He’d been a trifle in sympathy with the fellow when he was under fire from the battle-axe, but he was damned if he’d have the man to speak to Delia in that tone. On the other hand, it argued a lack of interest in her Giff could not but applaud.
At this point, Lady Matterson intervened. “When you have finished with the captain, young man, I will be obliged if you will give me a moment of your time.”
Startled, Giff looked across at the suddenly formidable dame, who was sitting at a slight remove from his uncle and Delia.
“Ma’am?”