Miss In A Man's World. ANNE ASHLEY

the least I could do after the child had saved me from possible injury.’

      ‘Well, I suppose that’s true enough, though I doubt you’d have sustained more than an odd bruise or two, if that,’ Charles responded, having at last recalled precisely where he had seen the young person before. ‘I must say, though, I’m most surprised at you, of all people, tolerating such familiarity that borders on impertinence, most especially in a servant. Clearly the boy doesn’t know his place. I can almost appreciate why you inflicted the black eye, though I don’t usually hold with maltreating flunkies.’

      At this the Viscount threw back his head and laughed heartily, something his friend had not witnessed him do in many a long year. ‘I would strongly advise you not to pay heed to everything that little demon tells you.’

      ‘Do you mean he deliberately lies?’

      ‘No, I would say, rather, that on occasions Georgie can be somewhat sparing with the truth. I did, indeed, inflict the injury, though it was purely an accident. Against my expressed wishes, the child returned to help me fend off three footpads.’

      Betraying a glint of emotion in his dark eyes that was impossible for his friend to define, his lordship fixed his gaze on the silver coffee pot that held pride of place in the centre of the table. ‘At Deerhampton I might, indeed, have sustained only minor injuries—last night was vastly different. Had it not been for my page’s courageous intervention, I might not now be sitting here, having only sustained a minor abrasion or two. It is little wonder, therefore, that I have grown inordinately … fond of that child.’

      Suddenly realising he was being observed most keenly, his lordship rose to his feet. ‘And now, if you have finished your repast, let us depart the house and announce the arrival of your own to the world at large!’

      Although he refrained from alluding to the subject again, his lordship’s unusual attitude towards one particular servant remained in Mr Gingham’s thoughts. He glimpsed the page again on two occasions only throughout the day. All the same, something about the youth, and he knew not what, struck him as odd. It was not until that evening, however, when he returned to the house, after visiting one or two other friends in the capital, that the truth finally dawned on him.

      Entering the library unannounced, he discovered the Viscount and his highly favoured young servant seated on opposite sides of the hearth, both engrossed in a game of chess. Consequently he was given a few precious moments in which to study the intimate little tableau without his presence being detected. Not taking his eyes away for a second, he studied the way the page reached for the glass of wine at his elbow and took the most delicate of sips, and the way slender, tapering fingers moved a chess piece across the board with infinite care. There was only one conclusion he could draw.

      ‘Why, if it isn’t Mr Gingham!’ Georgie announced, catching sight of him at last. ‘We didn’t expect you back so soon, did we, my lord?’

      ‘Indeed not, child,’ the Viscount agreed affably, not taking his eyes off the chess board. ‘Draw up a chair, old fellow. I hope you don’t object to us playing a while longer. The game is at a most interesting stage, you see.’

      Helping himself to wine, Charles took a chair a little away from the players. ‘Do not consider me for a moment, Finch. I shall be quite content viewing proceedings from here.’

      Try though he might to calculate the state of play, he seemed unable to take his eyes off his lordship’s worthy opponent for very long, and the more he studied each and every movement of that slender, lithe young body, the more convinced he became that his startlingly disturbing suspicion was correct. He chanced to glance in the Viscount’s direction at one point, and caught him staring directly back at him, the most enigmatic of smiles hovering about those finely chiselled lips.

      The instant the mantel-clock announced the hour of eleven, his lordship leaned back in his chair. ‘Child, it is late, and time you were abed. I shall concede defeat. Well played!’

      ‘Oh, no, sir! That wouldn’t be fair. I have not beaten you. I shall agree to a draw.’ The smile that accompanied this contrasting decision was so enchantingly lovely it almost took Charles’s breath away.

      His lordship seemed quite impervious, however, as he said, ‘Very well, stalemate it is. Be sure I shall issue a further challenge in the near future. Goodnight, Georgie.’

      As soon as the door had closed behind the servant Charles sat himself in the recently vacated chair opposite his lordship. He didn’t attempt to speak. More importantly, neither did his lordship. As the silence lengthened between them, Charles couldn’t resist looking across at the Viscount and discovered him with that same inscrutable smile playing about his mouth, while all the time staring fixedly down at the empty hearth. He could contain himself no longer.