really a guardian at all. Victoria, take Robert round the garden and tell him about your mysterious Mr. Brown while I finish correcting those proofs. I really must try to get them off by the afternoon post.”
Victoria, not relishing the prospect of a tete-a-tete with the stranger until she had decided on her line of conduct, made hurried excuses, but Kate said nonsense to all of them and went away to her study, and Victoria, catching Mr. Robert Farmer’s eye resting upon her with somewhat sardonic amusement, knew that he was fully aware of her reluctance and rather enjoying himself.
“Are you shy, Timmy’s Toria?” he enquired a little mockingly, and now that they were alone together, her old antagonism revived.
“Certainly not,” she replied, endeavouring to sound cool and assured. “At my Paris establishment we were taught that it was impolite to appear gauche whatever our provocation.”
“Very proper, but weren’t you taught that it was also impolite to leave a guest to his own devices?”
“Of course, but you’re Kate’s guest, not mine, and since you’re related and this house is yours, I didn’t suppose that you needed entertaining.”
“Touché. Still, if I were to ask you very politely if you would be so kind as to take me round the garden, perhaps you would stifle your disinclination and oblige?”
“Certainly, Mr. Farmer, if that’s what you want,” she said at once. “We’ll find Timmy and take him with us.”
“I’ve always understood that Timmy rested at this hour, but perhaps you’ve instituted a new regime,” he said, and Victoria could have kicked herself. She had quite genuinely forgotten that Timmy would not be available for another hour, but in saying the first thing that came into her head, she could only have confirmed whatever he was probably thinking.
“Of course, I’d forgotten. We have so few visitors here, you see, that your sudden arrival has rather thrown out our routine.” It was a feeble enough explanation and had a distinctly governessy flavour, she thought crossly, then saw him grin with a most unexpected touch of mischief and found herself grinning back.
“That’s better,” he said, taking her by the arm and piloting her out into the garden. “You shouldn’t try conclusions with me on such short acquaintance, you know. I have quite a reputation for dealing firmly with evasive witnesses.”
“So I believe,” she replied rather tartly. “It must be very uplifting to the ego to browbeat witnesses who can’t answer back.”
“Oh, but some of them do, and I only browbeat the stubborn ones. Tell me about your mysterious Mr. Brown. Is he an admirer?”
Victoria was not given to inventing fantasies to boost her own consequence, but Robert Farmer seemed to have the knack of making her feel a child again. It would do him no harm to keep him guessing.
“Mr. Brown ...” she repeated musingly. “Now, there’s a man who thoroughly understands the romantic approach.”
“By being mysterious?”
“That and other things.”
“What other things?”
“You’re very inquisitive, aren’t you, Mr. Farmer, considering we’ve only just met.”
They were strolling through the little orchard which bounded the neat approach to Farthings. Here nature had been left to run wild and the grass was already ankle deep. The fruit trees were long past bearing, but they still put forth blossom and Victoria paused now to reach up to a low-hanging branch and shake the last of the petals about her. Robert stood and watched her with obliging attention, thinking that she was probably quite aware of the charming picture she presented, then she laughed as a shower of dew fell on her upturned face and opened her mouth like a child to catch the drops.
“Very pretty,” he observed with a certain dryness. “No doubt the romantic Mr. Brown would immediately respond in the appropriate manner were he here to observe.” She looked at him with a moment’s surprised enquiry