His Lady Mistress

192 His Lady MistressHe shook his head with a rueful smile. ‘No. But your situationis different. Losing his arm and then destroying himselfbecause of it.’‘Did Max tell you that?’He stared. ‘Isn’t it the truth?’She hauled in a breath. ‘Not quite. There...there wereother... other...’ She faltered as memory clawed at her. Otherthings Max knew nothing about. Her father’s return from Waterloo.Maimed. The day after the funeral for her mother andthe tiny, longed-for son. His disbelieving rage. And his despair.Especially when he looked at his daughter...‘Not quite,’ she whispered. The headache and nausea shehad been ignoring threatened to swamp her. She scrambledto her feet and found the terrace swinging about her giddily.One uncertain step...she grabbed for her chair.‘Verity!’ Richard’s voice seemed to come from a distance,but strangely he was there, holding her, steadying her againsthis shoulder. ‘Gently now. Are you feeling unwell? Come.Let’s get you out of the sun.’She felt his arm slip around her waist, supporting her.Breathing deeply, she fought the nausea. The terrace steadied.‘I’m...it’s all right. Thank you. I just felt dizzy for a moment.’She turned slightly and pushed gently on his chest.‘I’ll be all—’‘How very affecting.’ The bitter voice cut into her.Her throat seized as she turned, still in Richard’s arms, andsaw Max standing at the far end of the terrace. He looked asmagnificent as ever, long powerful legs encased in buckskinbreeches and top boots, his coat slung carelessly over onearm. She could see that he was hot. His shirt moulded wetlyto the broad shoulders.The brilliant amber eyes blazed into her. He was furious.He strode towards them, his face contemptuous. ‘Playing offyour tricks on another fool, my lady?’She flinched as though he had struck her.Richard’s arm tightened. ‘For God’s sake, Max!’ he