Aunt Gertrude’s features twitched. “My dear young man, the line must always pass from father to son.”
“If possible, Aunt. You know very well there are innumerable cases where it does not.”
“Only when there is no direct heir, Delia. The laws of primogeniture are particularly strict. That is why your cousin could not gain his point, Giffard. Indeed, I am surprised no one succeeded in locating you, since you are clearly alive and in excellent health.”
“Not for much longer, if Piers has his way,” Delia said with a good deal of bitterness, shocking herself with the intensity of her feelings.
“Devil a bit, my flower girl! I’m not yet dead.”
“By a miracle, Giff! If Tiger had not come to your rescue —”
He grinned. “Nothing of the kind! I remember you had the matter well in hand. What did you use on Sam? A stone?”
“Yes, and I wish I’d got him on the head!”
A snorting explosion from Lady Matterson made her jump and turn. Oh, help! She’d half-forgotten they were not alone.
“Enterprising of you, my child, if foolhardy.”
Giff gave Delia a wink and she felt her cheeks grow warm.
“She’s pluck to the backbone, ma’am.”
“So it would seem, if all I hear from the rector here is true.”
The Reverend Gaunt was smiling across at Delia. “Perfectly true, ma’am, as my great-nephew will confirm, I’ve no doubt.”
Giff’s gaze went back to Aunt Gertrude. “I wanted to set her down and let her escape that day. But she insisted on binding up my wound and she took the reins too.”
“You’d have fallen off Tiger if I hadn’t.”
Lady Matterson raised a hand for silence. Her tone changed. “What, may I ask, young Gaunt, is this flower girl business?”
The heat in Delia’s cheeks intensified. “It’s just his pet name for me, Aunt. It’s nothing.”
“Nothing? A pet name is nothing?”
Her narrowed gaze was fixed upon Giff as she spoke. He met it with his good eye and did not flinch. “I understand your ladyship, I believe. You need have no apprehension. Once my affairs are settled, I will settle that matter too.”
What matter? What was she missing here? Delia was tempted to demand to know what he meant, but a spark of unprecedented hope kept her silent, a thrum in her breast. If she asked, she might discover she was mistaken. Besides, she had no wish to find Giff had intentions towards her based solely on the exigencies of their adventures.
To her relief, Peggy came in to say that dinner awaited them and her aunt let it drop. But once Scoley and Sally had served, Lady Matterson dismissed them.
“Now then, young Gaunt, how do you propose to set about recovering your patrimony? And don’t talk nonsense about fighting duels.”
Sitting on the bed in his shirtsleeves, his cravat and waistcoat removed, Giff endured while his henchman applied a salve to the bruise around his eye. Sattar had already cleaned and anointed the cut at his mouth, which, he’d discovered on looking in the wall mirror, was also a trifle swollen.
“What is that you are using?” His uncle was watching the operation with interest, perched on the dressing stool. “It has a strong smell of camphor.”
Sattar kept at his task as he answered. “Tiger Balm. It is much used in my country.”
“Yes, and it stings like the devil,” Giff put in, wincing.
“It will heal faster, sahib, as you well know.” Sattar glanced towards the rector. “This damage is naught for this boy, reckless as he is. Many times have I mended him.”
“You can’t blame me this time, old sobersides. And you took your time bringing your ancient bones to the rescue.”
His henchman’s tone became both stern and resigned. “This I have already spoken, sahib. That place is littered with broken stone, enough to bring the horses to their knees.”