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the adults exhibited any further interest in him.
    Instead they began bickering among themselves as to which of them was most inconvenienced by the tardiness of Miss Jolliffe’s visit. Only the three children remained mum, staring at him as if he were some kind of freak displayed at a street market in Rangoon. Their faces, even at their young ages, were already beginning to show the same repulsiveness as their elders, and there arose in Gabriel’s mind an image of the greasy broth made from maggoty beef that he had often been forced to eat on board ship.
    Miss Jolliffe appeared unruffled by her family’s diatribe, and she murmured conciliatory phrases while pouring herself and Gabriel some tea.
    He was not sure why he felt compelled to speak up in the end. Perhaps it was simply because as plain as she was, Miss Jolliffe did not appear to belong in this ugly room. Or perhaps he wished to have an opportunity to quiz her as to why she was so determined to reach home in time for Christmas, when home meant nothing but rejection. Or more likely it was some misguided feeling of pity that caused him to speak out, deliberately raising his voice loud enough to momentarily halt the others’ conversation.
    “When do you mean to return to London, Miss Jolliffe? It may well be convenient for you to drive back with me to catch the stage in Belford.”
    “Oh, I could not ask you to put yourself to so much trouble,” she began.
    Her father interrupted before Gabriel could press his invitation. “But you care little how much inconvenience you put me to, is that it, daughter? Well, I’ll not be hitching up my horses to drive you just because you’re too missish to accept this gentleman’s offer. If you want to be so niffy-naffy in your ways, you can walk to Belford for all I care.”
    “I had thought to return on January ninth,” Verity said softly, and this time it was her mother who reprimanded her.
    “You’ll go when this gentleman finds it convenient, and I’ll brook no arguments,” the old woman said tartly.
    Feeling the need for some fresh air and solitude, Gabriel stood up and said, “January ninth will be fine for me. And now if you will excuse me, I need to continue my journey. The days are short this time of year, and I wish to reach my destination before nightfall.”
    No one made any effort to detain him longer, but when Miss Jolliffe started to rise from her seat to show him out, her father told her crossly that she was not dismissed, and she obediently sank back down in her chair, casting Gabriel a look of apology that he did not feel was necessary to acknowledge.
    Deliberately leaving the door partly ajar behind him, Gabriel paused in the corridor and listened with idle curiosity to the questions being asked about him—questions about his business and his familial connections that Miss Jolliffe was quite unable to answer in a way that her relatives found the least bit satisfactory.
    He soon abandoned his listening post and descended the stairs. If he had harbored any doubts about his decision not to entertain his relatives at Sherington Close, he was now completely convinced that coming north had been the right course.
    Just so would his relatives have engaged in bickering among themselves, alternating with casting venomous remarks in his direction.
    Miss Jolliffe, he decided while the butler obsequiously helped him on with his driving coat and then respectfully handed over his top hat, was proving after all to be a fool, despite her knowledge of sheep raising in Northumberland.
    By the time dinner was over, Verity had managed to cajole her family into a somewhat better mood, although she rather suspected her meek responses to their complaints were not the sole reason for their grudging acceptance of her presence in their midst.
    More than likely her mother and sister-in-law had bethought themselves of several household chores that had not yet been done—tasks they could now assign to Verity.
    As soon as her