As he got to his feet, Giff’s muscles protested. He paid scant heed, his mind roving over how much to tell Rhoades. He started towards Delia only to find all three of the party standing. An imperious finger commanded him to join them.
“We are retiring for an early dinner, Mr Giffard. You will accompany us.”
Giff flashed a look at Delia, who rolled her eyes. Hell and the devil, had his uncle blabbed? Now they were for it.
CHAPTER TWELVE
If she could only sneak a moment with him in private, Delia could warn Giff. He did not look to be best pleased with the turn of events. He was frowning as they left the Assembly Rooms and trooped after Aunt Gertrude, who was escorted by the rector.
Delia hung a little back, casting a significant glance at Giff. He took the hint, throwing a look towards the retreating backs of the elder couple before speaking in a tone loud enough to be heard.
“Will you take my arm, Miss Burloyne?”
“Are you sure you are strong enough, Mr Giffard?”
Lady Matterson’s head turned slightly, but she confined her attention to the Reverend Gaunt, speaking in a low tone. Delia immediately followed suit as she set her hand on Giff’s arm.
“We are betrayed! My aunt sent her maid with a letter to your uncle yesterday.”
“Her maid? Why her maid, for pity’s sake?” He was thankfully speaking in a bare murmur, matching her.
“To ensure an early response, she told me. And to insist upon my aunt’s being satisfied, if your uncle had proved obdurate.”
“Which he clearly did not. Has he told her the truth?”
“I fear so. She’s been suspicious for days.”
Lady Matterson’s arctic tones interrupted them. “You need not attempt to concoct more lies for my benefit, either of you. The cat, in vulgar parlance, is out of the bag.”
She had not turned as she spoke, apparently addressing the air. But the Reverend Gaunt threw a quick look over his shoulder, apology in his face.
Delia exchanged an eloquent glance with Giff, who looked rueful. Seeing him about to speak, she lifted a finger to her lips. “Wait! We don’t yet know how much your uncle has told her.”
“Everything, by the looks of it.”
The door of their lodging was within sight, and Peggy was soon seen to be at her usual post. Lady Matterson at once took charge. “We have an extra guest for dinner, Pegler. See to it, will you? And bring wine to the parlour. Follow me, Mr Gaunt.”
She went in and mounted the stairs, closely followed by the rector. About to do likewise, Delia found Giff’s hand on her arm, and paused.
“Are you ready for this, my flower girl? Shall I slip away?”
Warmth rose up. Ready for what? To face the music? What choice had she? “We may as well get it over with, Giff.”
He grimaced. “You may not like the consequences.”
What in the world was he at? Her aunt’s voice broke into her thoughts.
“Delia! Come up here this instant! You too, Mr Giffard.”
“We’d best go up, Giff.”
With which, she trod lightly up the stairs, a flurry in her pulse. The moment of reckoning was upon them. And Aunt Gertrude sounded anything but sympathetic. So much for her suggesting she might help!
It did not take long for the party to crowd into the parlour. Lady Matterson held court in her usual fashion on the chaise longue, while Delia obeyed an instant command to sit on the chair next to it. The rector took the seat he’d sat in weeks ago when he’d brought her back, but Giff hovered, eyeing Aunt Gertrude in a speculative way.
She threw out a hand. “Well, sit down, young man, sit down! You look as if you’ll fall down if you don’t.”
He grinned and winced, putting a hand to his damaged mouth. “Bar a few bruises, I’m well enough, ma’am.”