The Masked Heart - By Karla Darcy Page 0,74

not, sir, while you are thus overheated. Give a care for your health and at the same time for my reputation," she said, voice icy with hauteur.

"At our age, sweet lady, one need no longer be bound by society's conventions. As long as the body is intact one should grasp all the pleasure one can," he said.

Ye gods! Blaine muttered. Aloud she said, "Hush, General Treadwell. I heard something and I am sure it is Lord Farrington returning."

"Never fear, little lady, we shall not be interrupted. Lord Farrington received an urgent message and asked me if I would do the honors."

Blaine promised herself that she would somehow do bodily injury to Drew for placing her in such a predicament. Her hands closed around the knob of her stick and she considered the damage it would do on Lord Farrington's very thick skull. She was brought out of her reverie by a sharp pinch on her backside and she screeched as she slapped the general's hand away.

"Behave yourself, General Treadwell, or I shall be forced to more painful actions," Blaine snapped.

"You are such a little armful that I cannot keep my hands to myself. We might as well enjoy ourselves. There is little enough else to do for amusement," he finished unflatteringly.

Blaine cocked her head as she noted the querulous tone in his voice and squinted her eyes in the darkness at the drooping figure on the bench. The old general might not be a lecherous old fool. If her suspicions were correct, the poor man was lonesome. She could see he was preparing for another assault and she quickly thought of a new approach. She called on her acting skills to deter him before he made a perfect cake of himself.

"Oh, please, forgive me, sir, but I cannot encourage you, knowing that it would break the heart of a bosom bow of mine."

"What's that?" the old man rasped.

"What a talebearer I would be, if I told you. Now don't be cross. I can only tell you that there is one who looks on you with great fondness." Blaine fluttered her eyelashes coyly as she thought of such a romantic situation.

"Fondness, you say?"

"Well, perhaps fondness is not quite a warm enough word to describe this lady's feelings. Oh, but I mustn't go on, General Treadwell. After all I was told in strictest confidence." Blaine bowed her head and wrung her hands in agitation.

"Come, come, Lady Yates. There is no need to upset yourself." He patted the seat once more. "We shall sit quietly and talk. Just like old friends."

Examining his face, Blaine knew it was safe and, with a slight simper, she sat down beside the old man. "I hope, General Treadwell, that you do not think any less of me for letting my little secret slip out."

"Of course not, my dear." The general's laugh was affable but she could tell he was consumed by curiosity. His watery eyes took on the crafty glint of an old campaigner. "I would never ask you to break a confidence. Besides, I already know of whom you speak."

"Has Felicia spoken of her feelings?" Blaine gasped and quickly covered her mouth with her hands, peeking at the general over the tips of her fingers.

"Felicia Amberley?" he asked in surprise.

"Oh, you are a sly one," she said, giggling into her mittened fingers. "Is it any wonder that you were so successful in battle. You have quite torn the secret from me when I had given my word that I would never breath a word to a soul."

"Did the woman actually say that she has a care for me?"

Since her whole life was a pack of lies, Blaine did not know why she caviled at one more but she was unable to build up the man's hopes too strongly. She sighed and then admitted, "She did not tell me in so many words. It was more that I sensed her feelings."

"I cannot believe Felicia holds any fondness for me since she spends so much time with those young artists," he snapped.

"I think it is because she is pining for attention," Blaine said, wondering if in fact that might not be the case. The few times she had met the woman she had noted a look of unhappiness in her mournful eyes. "Her husband died about four years ago and it was then that she became interested in supporting the arts."

"She is not a bad looking woman, I suppose," the old man grumbled much to Blaine's amusement. "Ought