Sybill by Jo Ann Ferguson Page B

not want to be the one to tell her the truth. Swallowing the bile filling his mouth, he smiled as realistically as he could.
    â€œForgive me, Sybill.”
    She frowned, as he used her given name, not trusting this abrupt amiability. Gazing up into his eyes as black as a windowless room, she felt a quiver within her. “Forgive you? After all you have said? You ask quite a bit.”
    â€œI can forgive you for accusing me of cheating Lord Foxbridge. Now that you have checked so thoroughly, you know that is not the case.” He smiled as she blushed. “If I can forgive you for that defamation, can you be any less benevolent?”
    She bent to retrieve her riding crop. Clutching it in her fingers to keep them from trembling, she answered, “Are you saying you don’t wish to be my enemy, Mr. Breton?”
    â€œTrevor.” He sighed as he regarded her stiff features. This was his fault. If he had taken the time to check into Sybill Hampton’s past, he would have learned immediately what he was being taught too late. Softly he said, as he closed the distance between them, “You were right from the beginning. There’s no need for us to spat like two cats. Can we be friends?”
    â€œI don’t know,” she answered with her characteristic honesty. “You have said many things which are unforgivable. I do know I can work with you to help Owen. I am in debt to him for offering me a home when I had no other.”
    â€œSybill, I can only say I am sorry.”
    As his hands settled on her shoulders, she tried to move away. “Sir, you are overstepping the bounds of propriety.” Her stilted words covered the uneven beat of her heart.
    He felt as if someone had punched him in the gut. Only a blow like that would take his breath away as harshly as her genteel reprimand. Taking his hands from her, he looked into her uneasy face. “Why was Foxbridge Cloister the only place open to you? You must have many friends.”
    â€œFriends?” She sighed as she gazed out at the sea visible through the trees. “I have no friends, although I had many offers.” When he began to speak, she held up her hand. “Don’t ask. None were of the type a lady can accept, Trevor. More than a dozen men called on me to invite me to live with them, but only Owen did not require me to sleep with him for the roof over my head. Do you wonder now why I came out here to this desolate place instead of staying in London?”
    â€œI am sorry.”
    â€œWhy? Because you thought I am no different than what they guessed me to be?”
    Trevor did not reply. Instead he suggested they continue with their ride. As they walked to where the horses were, he was careful not to come close enough to brush her sleeve. When he lifted her onto her horse, he was amazed at how easily she fit into his arms. She did not meet his eyes as he remounted, so he could not guess at her feelings. His own blared through his head as if they were being trumpeted to announce the queen.
    Softly he said, “I must show you the marsh. It’s easy to get lost there, and there are some spots where you can be mired.”
    â€œIt sounds like a place I should see.”
    He glanced at her as he heard the breathless tone of her voice, but her eyes remained on her hands gripping the reins of her horse. Wondering if her thoughts were as confused as his, he simply signaled for her to follow.
    Sybill realized quickly that Trevor was intent on charming her. Why he suddenly believed she was not the wicked woman he had labeled her, she could not guess. All she knew was that the circumstances were not comfortable. She had feared he would find a way to force her from Foxbridge Cloister. Now she did not know what to think.
    With his obvious effort to be conciliatory, she decided she could not be as crass as he had been and reject the offer of truce. As they rode, she felt the fear within her thaw. “I never thought