‘Your secret is safe with me, I promise you,’ Gerald said reassuringly.
The coach was slowing down, and he realised that they had arrived in Golden Square. He looked about for his hat, and put it on. Then, seeing Melusine’s feathered beaver had fallen to the floor, picked that up for her.
She held out her hand for it, but Gerald smiled. ‘Allow me.’ He fitted the hat onto her head, and was aware as he did so of her eyes watching his face. He looked down and met them.
‘Merci,’ Melusine said, and smiled.
Gerald’s breath caught. But before he could say anything, the vehicle rolled to a halt. He tore his gaze away, aware of the quickening of his heartbeat. Hastily, he reached for the door. As he turned the handle, it moved, and the door was taken from his hand and pulled outward by the young footman.
‘Ah, yes,’ Gerald said, jumping down from the coach and waiting for the fellow to let down the steps for Melusine, ‘I had forgotten about you.’ He held out his hand to help the girl descend. ‘I suppose this is the cavalier you had with you when you—er—attended the ball the other night?’
‘Jacques is very useful to me,’ Melusine confirmed, bestowing that same radiant smile on the young man, whose features were instantly suffused with scarlet. She turned back to Gerald, holding out her hand. ‘And now, monsieur le major—’
‘I will see you to the door,’ Gerald said, looking with interest at the building that his observant groom had told him housed a small collection of nuns. He glanced up at the coachman. ‘Wait for me.’
Melusine shrugged, and crossed to the plain door beside which hung a bell. The lad had just barely jangled it, when hurrying footsteps could be heard inside. It opened and a nun’s head popped out.
‘I thought it must be you,’ cried the woman. ‘Come inside at once, child. I’ve been on the watch for you.’
‘But why, Marthe,’ asked Melusine, as she walked into the house.
Seeing the footman about to follow her in, Gerald clamped a hand onto his shoulder.
‘I want a word with you, my lad. Await me in the coach.’
Without stopping for a response, Gerald pushed past him and entered the convent just in time to hear Melusine protesting.
‘I have told you I will take Jacques. There was no need to be afraid for me.’
‘It’s not that,’ the nun said urgently, ‘but I’ve remembered something important.’
‘Truly?’ Melusine said excitedly. ‘Speak, then.’
But the nun’s eyes had caught Gerald behind and she took instant umbrage. ‘Who’s this, then? Not soldiers again. Oh, what have you been about now?’
‘There is no need to be concerned. Mademoiselle has had no harm of me,’ Gerald said soothingly and bowed. ‘I am Major Gerald Alderley of the West Kent Militia.’
‘Oh, you are, are you?’ said the nun, evidently not mollified, but she was forestalled.
‘Why have you come in here?’ demanded Melusine, turning on him. ‘This is not a place for a man. You will go out at once, if you please.’
She fairly pushed at Gerald, who grinned and gave in, moving back to the still open door. He stepped out but, rather to his surprise, found Melusine following him. She pulled the door so that it was not quite to, and held out her hand, palm up.
Gerald looked at it, then at her face. ‘Is that a gesture of friendship?’
She stamped her foot. ‘It is nothing at all of the kind. Give me my pistol and my dagger.’
Gerald hissed in a doubtful breath. ‘I don’t know that I dare.’
‘But you must. How will I protect myself if you do not?’
‘If you will only confide in me, I will be happy to protect you,’ Gerald said cheerfully.
‘You cannot be always with me. How can you protect me? Moreover, it is stealing that you have done, and therefore—’
‘Don’t tell me you expect me to arrest myself again.’
Melusine giggled. ‘Imbecile.’ Then she came closer and put her hand on his chest so that it rested on the braid that decorated his scarlet coat. ‘Gérard—’
‘What now?’ he asked, rife with suspicion. ‘Cajolery? This is not your style.’
Melusine hit lightly at his chest. ‘Do not be foolish. You see, it is that I begin to like you, even that you are of this disposition extremely interfering. But I do not know you at all, in truth, and I do not understand why you do this.’
‘Because I like you, of course,’ Gerald said promptly. ‘But I don’t trust you an inch. What are you after?’
‘But my pistol and dagger, imbecile,’ she exclaimed impatiently, moving sharply back.
‘I doubt very much whether they are yours at all. In fact, it would not surprise me to discover that they were both Leonardo’s.’
‘But he gives them to me.’
‘Willingly?’
‘Parbleu, what a person you think me.’
‘I think you—’ He broke off abruptly, astonished at what he had been about to say. A little darling? Lord in heaven, he had taken leave of his senses. Her voice recalled him.
‘Quick, Gérard. Before Marthe will become impatient and come out. She will die if she knows I have a gun.’
