aware of. They were plunged into total darkness, except for the moon.
‘Hell’s teeth,’ said Silk Shirt blankly.
And then he began to laugh, as if he couldn’t help himself.
‘What have I done?’ whispered Bella, appalled.
‘No harm done. I’m fine,’ he said, when he could speak.
‘You may be. Look at this courtyard. I’ve wrecked it. And now I’ve fused the lights.’ Her voice rose to a wail of guilt.
That set him off again, uncontrollably. She could hear him hauling noisy gulps of air into his lungs, as if trying to get control of himself, but his shoulders shook and so did the plants around them.
‘It’s not funny!’ she yelled, hating him.
He got hold of himself at last. ‘Yes, it is. Even though you kicked me in the chin and now I think I’ve bust a rib laughing.’ He gave another hiccup. ‘Oh, God, when that bay tree started to topple—’
‘All right, all right,’ said Bella before he went off again. ‘I guess it did look quite amusing from where you were standing. But I’m the one causing death and destruction here. I feel terrible.’
‘Nothing that can’t be fixed,’ he said comfortingly. ‘Don’t worry about it.’
‘That’s easy for you to say. You didn’t do it. And it’s not your plant collection. At least—’ he had said he didn’t know where they kept the gardening tools. But did very rich men and their families do their own gardening? There was probably an under-gardener who looked after the courtyard. He was too young to be the Big Boss and too old to be idiot Number Three Son. But he could still be Number One Son or Number Two. ‘Oh God. Do you live here?’ she asked, wincing.
At least it stopped him laughing. ‘What?’
She said rapidly, ‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry … I’m not a gatecrasher, honest. I’m Charlotte Hendred’s Plus One. She said it would be OK.’
She could feel him staring at her in the darkness. But he said nothing.
‘Charlotte Hendred? Tall redhead? Walks as if she’s on springs?’
‘Oh, that Charlotte,’ he said, but absently. It seemed as if he were debating something with himself. ‘Don’t worry, I’m just another guest like you. You don’t need to apologise to me.’
‘Phew, that’s a relief.’ Bella hadn’t realised, but she had been holding her breath. ‘Though, actually, you’re wrong. I’m pretty certain that I do need to apologise to you.’
There was a pause.
‘Why?’ His voice was almost wary.
‘Well, I kicked you in the head, didn’t I?’
He gave a hoot of startled laughter. ‘You did at that. I’d forgotten.’
‘Very chivalrous,’ she said, starting to feel better. ‘Thank you.’
‘Undeserved. A chivalrous man wouldn’t have left you lying on the floor in the grip of Hell’s Ivy. Hang on. Let’s see if a key will cut it.’
He knelt down and put a strong hand across her foot, holding it steady. She knew it was the only thing he could do but the warmth of his palm on her exposed ankle felt amazingly intimate. And right, somehow, as if she had known him all her life.
Bella stared into the darkness but, as far as she could tell, he did not feel the same reaction at all. He was simply a competent man doing what was necessary. She felt the coldness of a key against her bare skin, followed by a gentle sawing motion. First one, then more of her ivy bindings fell away. She could not see but she felt them go. She flexed her foot, made to stand up. But …
‘No. Stay still for the moment. I can’t see properly. I might not have got it all. If you try to get up before I’ve cleared the stuff, you could break your ankle.’
‘Or a few more pots,’ said Bella dryly.
He laid his hand, palm down, on her foot, as if he were calming a nervous animal, and she felt his touch right through to the top of her head.
‘Don’t worry about that. I’ll make sure you don’t break any more stuff. Trust me.’
He was as good as his word. As soon as he had freed her from the ivy to his satisfaction, he said, ‘Try now,’ and kept an arm like a vice round her as she clambered upright, not very steadily.
But as soon as she was upright, her right leg turned out to have all the strength of cotton wool and she would have fallen off her heels if she hadn’t grabbed his arm and held on.