An understanding smile came her way. “He is a fortunate man, Miss Burloyne.”
Astonished, she stared at him. “Fortunate?”
The smile grew. “To have you in his corner. I know of no other female brave enough to do what you have done.”
Furiously blushing, Delia yet stared at him in shock. “I am nothing out of the ordinary, Captain Rhoades.”
“On the contrary, Miss Burloyne. Lady Matterson must be inordinately proud of you.”
Delia could only blink at him. Then she caught sight of Giff in the doorway, looking like a mutilated thundercloud.
Obliged to endure a barrage of comment and question about his appearance, Giff made slow way as he attempted to get to where Delia was sitting. What the deuce was the perfidious Rhoades saying to her to make her blush so? He had not suspected the fellow would have the gall to try and steal a march on him. After he’d eaten Giff’s meat too!
Fortunately, the battle-axe was not in evidence and he managed to avoid Lady Matterson’s minatory eye by dint of attending to her colleague who had once been in India himself.
“I’ll wager this was nothing to what might have happened in Kolkata. Scimitars and daggers and such. Bandits galore, as I recall.”
“True enough, but I had protection in Sattar.”
“That the fellow who’s with you? Looks to be a fierce guardian, that one.”
“None fiercer.” Giff made a brief bow. “But I must not interrupt your game, sir.”
Skimming past Delia’s aunt with a murmured greeting, he reached his quarry only to find Rhoades had upped and left her. He glanced round for a glimpse of the man’s scarlet coat and found him missing.
He rolled an eye towards Delia, speaking with menace. “Did that treacherous hound come here only to monopolise you? Where the deuce has he gone?”
She gave him an exasperated look. “And good morning to you too, Mr Giffard!”
He dropped into the captain’s vacated seat. “Don’t you good morning me! What do you mean by encouraging that blasted redcoat to hang about you?”
“What do you mean by growling at me, horrid creature? I’ve a good mind to wash my hands of you!”
This was said in a rebellious mutter, though Giff noted Delia’s lips still curved in a spurious smile. Remembering where they were, he cursed under his breath.
“Can’t we get out of here?”
“Not without attracting attention. Besides, I’ve no wish to go apart with you if you’re going to be ridiculous about Captain Rhoades.”
She cast a wary eye towards Lady Matterson as she spoke and Giff’s irritation was superseded by panic.
“Damn it, we must go elsewhere! Can’t talk under the eye of that aunt of yours.”
He was treated to a speculative look, and then Delia spoke in a languid tone to be readily heard by those nearby. “It is inordinately stuffy in here, Mr Giffard, don’t you think?” She lifted her fan and plied it vigorously, briefly concealing her face as she signalled with her eyes in a frantic manner. She got up. “I think I will take a turn outside.”
He rose with alacrity and offered his arm, trying for a similar note. “Allow me to escort you, Miss Burloyne.”
Casting a glance at Lady Matterson, he saw at once that she’d seen through this piece of by-play. A minatory look came his way, but she confined her remarks to Delia.
“Don’t stay out in the sun too long, child.”
“No, ma’am. I am only going to enjoy the sea breeze for a little.”
Was this permission for a tête-à-tête? Then Lady Matterson knew something he did not, did she? It struck Giff all at once that Delia was labouring under suppressed anxiety. He’d been coxcomb enough to suppose her to be concerned at being caught with Rhoades, but that couldn’t be it. Not if her aunt was ready to allow them time alone.
He leaned close enough to murmur as he began to lead a path through the room. “What’s to do?”
“Not here!”