you used them?” she asked in surprise, gazing at them in their elegant, inlaid case.
“Lord, no. Apart from shooting practice for fun. I regard them as works of art.”
She ran her fingers lightly over the decoratively carved wood and engraved silver. “Are they loaded?”
“I wouldn’t let you touch them if they were.”
She closed the box and replaced it in his cabinet, examining instead the cravat pins he rarely wore, preferring a plainer style.
She smiled as everything she saw taught her more about him. That, too, was a novelty and curiously touching. He could not resist dropping a kiss on her exposed nape, enjoying the catch in her breath as she turned to him in immediate response.
Perhaps inevitably, one thing led to another. Afterward, as she lay content in his arms, he said, “You would tell me if something was troubling you?”
She kissed his chest, hiding her face. “Of course, I would.”
Chapter Eighteen
Christopher knew she was hiding something from him, knew it was to do with that wretched letter. Her own silly, instinctive reaction had contributed to that. The doubt in his eyes, swiftly banished, was like a knife in her heart, and she was only grateful for his continued tenderness, even though it made everything worse. Part of her wished she could stay well away from him until after speaking to Barden on Monday.
Tomorrow, she thought. Tomorrow, I will tell him everything, once I’m sure Barden can’t hurt him.
In the meantime, there was the social ordeal of church, although she hoped the service might provide some spiritual comfort and guidance.
They traveled sedately in two carriages—en masse as Georgianna had commanded, even Lord Hawfield allowing himself to be bundled out of the house before breakfast. The journey was just long enough to let dread build in the pit of Deborah’s stomach. Despite her walk yesterday with Georgianna, she did not relish the stares or possible rudeness from the rest of the congregation. For her family’s sake, for Christopher’s, she hoped there would be no confrontation, no awfulness.
Christopher handed her down outside the church and held her hand comfortingly in his arm. “You’re going to church,” he murmured, “not walking into the lion’s den.”
She smiled gratefully in response, and they followed Lord Hawfield up the path. The vicar welcomed them kindly, and Christopher introduced him to his family. Then they were inside the church and walking up the aisle with all curious eyes upon them. Beside her, Christopher nodded to people he knew. Deborah tried to do the same. She noticed her mother and Lucy and smiled encouragingly. Behind her, she heard Georgianna greet them like old friends.
As important members of the community, they had pews at the front of the church, and there was a little shuffling to make way for them all. Then, she could sit down with some relief and wait for the service to begin.
On the other side of the aisle, she noticed Lady Letchworth, Sir Edmund, and Mrs. Ireton. It must have been them Christopher had acknowledged as they walked to their own places.
Mr. May was a kindly, soothing sort of clergyman. The familiarity of the rituals, the atmosphere of peace in the church, the wise, comforting words of the sermon all played their part on Deborah’s mood. By the time the service was finished, she felt much calmer and walked back down the aisle with considerably more confidence. Of course, the real challenge was still to come, as everyone gathered to greet and gossip outside the church.
Lord Hawfield paused to hail the Letchworths, commenting on the fineness of the day and thanking them for last week’s dinner. There was little for Deborah to do but smile and murmur greetings and move on as if she did not care whether or not they snubbed her. It came to her that if it wasn’t for Lucy’s unhappiness, she truly would not care.
Behind her, Georgiana was greeting them with great pleasure, although she paused to call, “Oh, Deb! Don’t let your mama and Lucy go before us!” Thus clearly announcing her friendship with Deborah and her family.
“One must admire Georgianna,” Christopher murmured in her ear.
“I am in awe,” Deborah agreed.
They found her mother and Lucy in conversation with the squire’s family. Their eldest son, Ned Copsley, was clearly besotted with Lucy, at whom he gazed worshipfully while he talked. Lucy was listening politely, occasionally inserting a smile or a nod.
“Ah, there you are, my dear,” Mrs. Shelby said, receiving a kissed cheek from both Deborah and Christopher. “I have