The Rakehell Regency(297)

"I was perhaps a bit heavy-handed in there," he said with a sigh. "But really, you have no idea what damage you've done, both to yourself and others, with this heedless pursuit of novelty and amusement. I should hope if you ever heard anything against me, you should judge me by what you know to be true, what you have seen with your own eyes, rather than any reports of my conduct."



She shook her head. "I have heard nothing about you, Mr. Deveril. Why would you think I should?"



He shrugged, his expression wary. "No reason, other than that the company you keep pick over everyone in the Assembly Rooms like rats gnawing at bones."



Pamela sniffed. "I'm sorry that you're so angry and displeased with me. I honestly don't know what has happened to vex you so."



He ran the fingers of one hand through his hair. "Perhaps nothing. I don't know. I heard a piece of news which was rather distressing, and was told it had come from you."



"From me?" she gasped. "In relation to what?"



"It was something to do with Elizabeth, whom I consider to have been a very good friend to you."



Pamela defended herself stoutly. "I give you my word, I've never said anything about her other than that she and her brother and his wife are the most congenial company and most excellent people. Please, if aught has been said, it has not been by me. Perhaps my aunt? I ask your pardon if it was she. I promise you, I would never-"



He flapped his hand against his side dismissively. "Yes, well, the damage has been done, wherever the on-dit came from."



"I can't think of anything that can be said against her. Anyone who knows her could only have the highest regard for Elizabeth," Pamela rejoined in a firm tone.



Jonathan patted her on the shoulder. "I'm glad to hear you say that, but it then means someone has a very low regard for you."



She wiped her tears with the handkerchief he offered her, and sat down on the small bench outside the door. "I'm not sure I follow."



"Accusing you of the gossip, and me believing it was you who said it. It was wrong of me to suspect you, to condemn you without trial, as it were. It also means that I'm not the only person who has observed your imprudent behavior, and seeks to cause trouble for you."



Pamela paled. "Oh dear."



He took her hand gently for a brief moment. "Please know I'm speaking to you as your friend as well as your vicar when I say you must be careful whom you trust. Not everyone who smiles and fawns upon you is full of good intentions. For example, Captain Breedon has pursued you here from Brimley, and can put you in a most awkward predicament if you do not take care. Not to mention Ferncliffe."



Her eyes widened. "Breedon? I've hardly said ten words to the Captain since he arrived. I liked him well enough upon first acquaintance, but though he is an hilarious companion, he is less attractive now that I've observed him drinking and gaming with so little restraint. In any event, he shall be leaving for a time, so I shall see him no more. The Earl, on the other hand, has improved upon acquaintance."



Jonathan said nothing, but she could hear an odd grinding sound.



"Have I said something amiss?"



"No, not at all," he replied, his tone clipped. "You are entitled to your opinions."



"But you do not like him."



"I knew him in the Army. He was not a very trustworthy fellow."



Pamela stared. "Don't tell me you're jealous of him."



Jonathan dropped her hand and got off the sofa abruptly. "Jealous? Should I have reason to be?"



"Yes, because he has prospered since you met him, become an Earl..."



"Whereas I have gone so far down in the world by becoming a vicar?" he said with asperity.



She clapped her hand over her mouth. "No, I didn't mean-"



He bowed stiffly from the waist. "I think we have both said quite enough about each other's characters for one evening, Miss Ashton. I shall say goodnight."



He turned on his heel, and marched through the vestibule to the staircase leading to his wing of the house. He vanished from sight before she could call him back.



She sat for a few minutes numbly, feeling utterly at a loss as to what had just taken place between them. Before they had come to Bath, they had got along so well. The first few days had been blissful. Now he was growing further and further away from her, and acted like more like a brother or her disapproving vicar than the beau she had been hoping for, the lover she had been so happy to see developing before her eyes.



The more she reflected upon her own feelings toward him, the more she had to admit that her vehement protestations that she did not care what he thought of her were all sound and fury, signifying nothing. She did care. She cared very much. Might she dare go one step further, and say she cared so much about him, she loved Jonathan? As a husband?