Marrying The Major. Joanna Maitland

she asked brightly. ‘No need, for I am before you. And since I have already covered a much greater distance than you, it would be ungentlemanly in you to expect me to retrace my steps—’ she smiled like the cheeky child she had once been ‘—would it not?’

      Richard’s answering smile was a little forced, Emma thought. Perhaps he had been coming to remonstrate with her in private about her unacceptable treatment of Hugo. He had cause, but she would not permit any man to lecture her. ‘To tell you the truth, Richard,’ began Emma, more seriously now, and determined to make a clean breast of her failings, ‘I was hoping for a chance to talk to Hugo, to apologise for my behaviour yesterday—’ that was not quite true, she realised ‘—or, at least, to try to show him that I mean us to be friends again. It was just that I…I was unprepared for the change in him. I—’

      ‘Jamie did try to warn you, Emma.’ Emma recognised Richard’s ‘big brother’ voice. ‘If you hadn’t rushed out so quickly—’

      ‘I know. And I’m sorry, Richard. Truly.’ Emma tried to look contrite, but she knew she was not making a very good fist of it. She was going to make amends. Surely that was enough? ‘However, once Hugo has been introduced to all his old friends, he will have no more cause for concern. I shall visit all the guests before the dinner party to warn them so that—’

      ‘Hugo refuses to attend, Emma.’

      ‘No! He wouldn’t! He—’

      ‘He’s adamant, Emma. That’s what I was coming to tell you.’ Richard was looking away suddenly, unable to meet Emma’s eye. ‘He…he thinks you invited him in order to use him as a sort of…’ He cleared his throat rather too noisily. ‘He hates to be stared at,’ he finished at last.

      Emma was shocked, then disbelieving, then angry when the import of Richard’s words sank in. She urged her mare into a trot. ‘So that’s what he thinks of me,’ she said hotly. ‘Well, let’s see if he has the gall to say so to my face. How dare he assume—?’

      ‘Emma.’ Richard caught up with her and laid a hand on her arm. ‘Emma, calm down. Please. If you fly up into the boughs with Hugo, he’ll probably pack his bags and leave. And considering the trouble we had in persuading him to come here in the first place—’ Richard broke off suddenly. From the look on his face, Emma fancied her friend had said more than he intended.

      Emma slowed Juno to a gentle walk, forcing Richard to do the same. ‘Richard,’ she said earnestly, ‘I don’t really understand what is going on. I know I behaved unpardonably yesterday; and I do want to set matters right. That was why I persuaded Papa to hold a little dinner party for Hugo. I thought he… Well, no matter what I thought. Obviously, I was wrong. From what you say, it seems as if it’s more than just… Oh, I know the scars are dreadful, but surely they will fade?’

      Richard hesitated for several moments. ‘Hugo has changed a great deal, Emma. It’s more than just his wounds, I think, but he will not speak of his experiences, even to me, his oldest friend. Jamie had the devil’s own job persuading him to come to Harding at all. He was set to bury himself on a rundown manor miles from anywhere.’

      ‘Oh.’ Emma did not know what to say. Nothing in her upbringing had prepared her to deal with a man like Hugo Stratton.

      ‘Perhaps it would be best if you didn’t come to Harding for a day or two, Emma. Give Hugo time to come down from his high horse.’

      ‘Of course, I…’ As she spoke the words politeness demanded, Emma knew instinctively that they were wrong. ‘No,’ she said flatly. ‘I shan’t give him time to persuade himself that I am a heartless trophy-hunter. I was not planning to put him on display, as he seems to think, and I intend to make him admit as much.’ She shook her head in frustration. ‘Devil take the man,’ she said fiercely. ‘Can’t he see that I’m trying to help him?’

      Emma’s resolution had all but deserted her by the time she finally caught sight of Hugo among the trees. He had walked much further from the house than she had expected. Judging from his painfully slow pace, it must have taken a very long time to come this far.

      Emma swung the tail of her claret-coloured velvet habit over her arm and hurried down the woodland path to intercept him. She knew she was looking her best in her new habit and jaunty little hat, and she was determined not to make a mull of this second meeting.

      ‘Major Stratton.’ She smiled encouragingly at Hugo’s tense figure. He had stopped at the sight of her. She stepped forward to meet him, holding out her gloved hand. ‘Good morning to you,’ she said, refusing to be daunted by his hard gaze and willing her hand not to shake.

      Eventually, Hugo transferred his cane to his left hand and quickly shook Emma’s hand. ‘Good morning, ma’am,’ he replied.

      Emma could detect no trace of warmth in his deep voice, nor any hint that he wished to prolong their encounter. But she would not cry off now. ‘I see that I was wrong to take you at your word yesterday, sir,’ she began in as light-hearted a tone as she could muster.

      He threw her a sharp glance from beneath frowning brows before busying himself once more with his walking cane.

      ‘You told me you could not walk very far, did you not? But I find you a considerable distance from the house. I collect you have been bamming me, sir.’ She looked straight at him then, letting him see the smiling challenge in her eyes.

      He returned her gaze frankly for what seemed an age, but she could read nothing of his thoughts.

      ‘Even cripples may improve, ma’am,’ he said quite softly. ‘The more I walk, the more I shall be able to walk. Would you have me lie down and moulder away?’

      ‘No, certainly not. How could you think it?’

      The tiniest smile crossed Hugo’s lips as she spoke.

      Emma’s temper snapped like the dry twigs beneath her boots. ‘Oh, you are quite impossible, Hugo Stratton, all thin skin and stiff-necked pride. You imagine that everyone is relishing your misfortunes or repelled by your scars. You believe that I invited you to my father’s house in order to provide cheap entertainment for my other guests. You think—’ She shook her head so sharply that the long red feather on her hat whipped at her cheek. ‘Whatever you think, you are wrong,’ she continued quietly as he made to speak. ‘When I was a child, you were my friend. I wanted us to continue to be friends—so much so that, as soon as I realised who was sitting with Richard and Dickon, I dashed out to meet you without listening to what Jamie was trying to tell me. So—yes—I was shocked when I saw you. And I…I wish to apologise for my rudeness. I hope you will forgive me.’

      Was there a slight softening in Hugo’s stern features? Emma ventured a small smile. ‘I hope we can still be friends.’

      Hugo sighed softly. ‘I am no longer the boy you knew, Miss Fitzwilliam,’ he said at last.

      ‘No,’ replied Emma, ‘but I do not believe that it changes matters.’

      Hugo raised his good eyebrow. ‘Indeed?’

      There was something about that quirked eyebrow… Years before, it had always been accompanied by a gleam of hidden laughter…

      ‘Major Stratton—’ Emma stared at Hugo through narrowed eyes ‘—I declare you are laughing at me.’

      Clearly, she must be wrong, for there was not the slightest trace of amusement in his face as he took a menacing step towards her. Emma retreated automatically, but the heel of her riding boot caught on her trailing hem, throwing her off balance.

      A strong right arm saved her. In that same moment, Emma heard Hugo’s cane clatter against the granite rocks alongside the path.

      Emma found she was gasping for breath, like a winded fighter. The arm supporting her felt immensely strong, much too strong for Hugo’s emaciated frame. It felt warm, too, and somehow gentle. How strange that—

      ‘Are you all right, ma’am?’

      Hugo’s