Velvet Ligntning by Kay Hooper

Author:Kay Hooper
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Random House Publishing Group
Published: 2017-11-07T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter 8

On Sunday morning Captain Tyrone walked into Port Elizabeth’s only church, causing a considerable stir among the congregation. He had never been known to attend services—though many of his ship’s crew often slid in to occupy the back pews in respectful silence—and more than one of the town’s citizens wondered why he was there.

Tyrone didn’t enlighten them. He made certain his gaze was casual as he took a seat near the back, but it took only one glance to find Catherine. She was sitting in the third pew beside her father, a small, neat hat atop the braided coronet of her dark hair. With an effort he kept his eyes away from her.

Stupid to come here, he knew. Dr. Scott had been right; he was going to give himself away. But he was worried about her, and had to see that she was all right. He told himself that was all he meant to do, but he knew only too well that given half a chance, he would try to talk to her.

There was no chance, of course, during the service, or immediately afterward. As was true in most small communities, people stood around outside the church, chatting, laughing, and making plans for the day. Tyrone found himself talking to the shop owner Mr. Odell about the shockingly high cost of French lace and fabrics, and it was sheer luck that he managed to overhear a conversation going on a couple of feet behind him.

“Just a few people, casually, of course, for Sunday dinner. And perhaps a quiet game of bridge afterward,” Mrs. Symington was saying brightly. “The Lydgates are coming, and the Ralstons. The dear vicar, of course. And you’ll come, won’t you, Lucas?”

“Delighted, Lettia,” Lucas Waltrip responded with heavy cheerfulness. “You won’t mind, Catherine?” he went on, more a statement than a question.

“Of course not, Father,” Catherine responded in a colorless voice.

“Fine. You take the buggy then, and I’ll go along with the others.”

Tyrone couldn’t remember ever feeling such rage. Her own father! Her own damned father treating her as if she had no feelings, no sensitivity, as if she were nothing. It took all his will to hold the anger in, all his control to continue his conversation with Odell as if nothing were wrong. He forced himself to wait until he heard several buggies leaving the churchyard, then bid a polite goodbye to Odell and headed for his own.

A glance showed him that Catherine was only then moving toward town, her horse trotting briskly. He climbed into his buggy without haste and turned in the same direction; both had to drive through town in order to reach their homes, and no one would think twice about it.

The shops in town were closed up, the street quiet since most of the populace was still leaving church. Tyrone, about fifty yards behind Catherine, had his gaze fixed so intently on her stiff, slender back that a sudden movement off to her right caught him by surprise. He saw no more than a flash of motion, but the ringing, childish voice was all too clear.

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