looked back. âYouâre wounded. I mustââ
âYou must mind your own damned business,â he interrupted.
âDonât be ridiculous. Wait right there.â
But Laura had not even reached the steps again when he grabbed her wrist hard enough to bruise. âYou will not tell anyone what occurred here tonight,â he said.
Laura jerked away from him, smudges of his blood on her wrist. The blaze of his eyes made her back away.
âIt is none of your affair. Forget what you saw.â
âButâ¦â At a loss for words, Laura gestured toward the wall where the ominous shadow had disappeared and then at his bleeding arm.
âAn interesting development,â commented Gavin.
âInteresting?â
He gazed at the wall, then raised his wounded arm experimentally. He winced and muttered a curse. âI wonât be climbing tonight,â he added. His head moved as if he were examining every inch of the garden, looking for a way out.
âNot unless you wish to bleed to death,â said Laura tartly. âWhat is going on? I donât understand.â
âThere is no need for you to do so. Go back inside.â
He spoke as if she were a highly unsatisfactory servant. Laura put her hands on her hips and glared at him.
âSomeone didnât want to be followed,â he explained curtly. âNow goâ¦â
âHow can you act this way when you have a knife in your arm?â
âIt isnât serious.â
âReally? Youâve been attacked so often you can tell without examining the wound?â she asked sarcastically.
âYes.â He turned his back on her, moving slowly to the high brick wall surrounding the garden and beginning to walk along it, checking for a gate hidden in the dimness.
Laura watched him in amazement, trying to comprehend his behavior. He seemed a different man. The mockery was gone; his lazy detachment was revealed as a pose. He was intent and focusedâutterly absorbed. It still seemed senseless to her to ignore the aid that waited a few feet away. But he clearly had no intention of communicating with anyone. She couldnât resist moving farther into the dark garden and following his progress around the wall. âDo you think it was a footpad?â she asked after a while.
âWill you go inside!â
âNo.â
Gavin stopped and looked at her, his face pale in the light from the windows. âMrs. Pryor will be looking for you,â he said.
âYes, she may even come out here. The general too. They will make a great fuss.â
âWhat is it that you want?â he snapped.
âI want to know what happened.â
âSomeone threw a knife at me and then escaped over the wall, and if I am to have any hope of discoveringâ¦â
âBut why do you not summon the authorities? If it was a thiefâ¦â
âThieves do not climb over walls into well-guarded houses when a ball is in progress,â he said with exaggerated patience.
âIf it was not a thief, then who was it? Who would want to attack you?â
âThis is none of your affair.â
âAn enraged husband?â she asked, remembering the remarks of the Frenchwomen a few days ago.
âWhat?â
âOr a brother, perhaps?â Laura nodded to herself. âAnd that is why you donât want anyone to find outâbecause of the scandal.â
Gavin had finished his circuit of the garden wall. Now he came closer. âThatâs it,â he replied. âCrime of passion. Mustnât drag the ladyâs name in the dirt.â
His mocking tone was back, Laura noticed. He was speaking to her as if she were a child. She didnât believe a word of it.
âSo you can understand,â he added. âThis shouldnât be mentioned.â
âYour time must be fully occupied,â Laura answered dryly. âWhen you are not dragging me into dark gardens, you are
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