An Improper Companion by April Kihlstrom Page B

a sort of covering from leaves and branches. Then, keeping to hedges and so on, proceeded to walk home. At some point someone noticed him and, deciding the fellow was mad and ought to be clapped up in bedlam, gave chase. The don was near home and decided to run for it. As he crossed the field to his lodging the covering dropped away and he was in the buff for all the world to see. He had a great deal of difficulty convincing the authorities he was sane and ought not to be carted away!”
    “Leslie!” Mary said reprovingly, “how disgraceful.” Although I agreed, I also could not help wishing I had been born a man so that I could attend Oxford and take part in such things. I must have voiced part of the thought aloud for Philip exclaimed, “What a henwitted notion! And I daresay Uncle Leslie feels so more strongly than I!”
    Leslie replied, after a moment, “Well, I certainly shouldn’t have married Heather in that event.”
    “I am quite happy not to have been born a man,” Mary said with dignity. “I don’t think I should have enjoyed it at all.”
    I reached for my wineglass and, finding it empty, turned to ask to have it refilled. As I did so Leslie caught my eye and discreetly shook his head. For a moment I was angry: how dare he presume to say I could not have more? But then I realised he might have cause. My head felt light, my hand a trifle unsteady, and words tripped a little too quickly off my tongue. I glanced at Leslie guiltily, but he smiled reassuringly.
    “... not set Philip a bad example, Leslie,” Mary was saying.
    “I’m sorry, Mary,” he said and, turning to Philip, admonished, “You are not to take my behaviour as a model.” A twinkle in his eyes belied the stiffness of his words. “Except, of course, in the fact that I was never caught!”
    “Leslie!” Mary said despairingly. “I swear, Heather, that I am glad he is not my husband.”
    And I wish he were not mine! I wanted to say, but did not. Reminded of my situation, I could no longer enjoy the comfortable atmosphere. Philip must have noticed, for he spoke hastily, “I say, Aunt Heather, don’t cut up stiff! Mother’s only roasting you.”
    I forced myself to smile and say lightly, “Of course. And since she is not married to Leslie, it scarcely matters, does it?”
    Leslie regarded me grimly over the rim of his wineglass. But he spoke lightly also, “I am afraid, Heather, that all my life Mary has been trying to take care of me and keep me out of trouble. A thankless task.”
    Philip seemed amused by the exchange. I wondered if he now considered Leslie more human. I hoped so, for the tensions earlier in the day distressed me. And, selfishly, I welcomed Philip’s company and felt that if the two were at ease with each other, Philip might remain longer. Mary also, of course, but while over the years I had had a surfeit of female companions, I felt starved for male companionship. Particularly male companionship that carried with it no possible complications and no emotional demands.
    The men remained behind with their port while Mary and I withdrew. “My dear,” she said, when we were alone, “I am happy to see Leslie in a better frame of mind. I wonder what might have happened? Well, no matter. Tell me, my dear. Have you any plans for refurbishing the castle?”
    I shook my head. “I hardly feel it my place to make such changes. I cannot feel I have the right.”
    “Nonsense!” she said firmly. “You are Lady Kinwell! You’ve every right to do as you choose. And if Leslie questions that I shall tell him so to his head. You must not let Leslie overset you!”
    “But I am not sure I wish to make any changes,” I protested.
    “Of course you do,” she retorted. “Tomorrow we shall go around the castle together and form our plans.”
    I stared at her helplessly. Mary simply did not understand how I felt. She spoke soothingly, “There, there. Truly, Leslie is not an ogre, as you would discover if you but gave him the