He hoped she would laugh it away, but she only looked at him, her lips parted, a hint of incredulousness in her eyes.
"I'm sorry," he said. He was glad now that she had not laughed or taken the word he had spoken lightly. He felt she knew he had not said it in an attempt at silly flirtation.
"You spoke of being rescued," she said, smiling again.
"Yes, and the villain is yet in the background," he said. "A devilishly handsome villain he is, too."
She glanced back over her shoulder. The servant had disappeared. The man in the wicker chair was looking at them, a half smile on his lips.
"Surely," she said, "not Mr. Gibson?"
"If Mr. Gibson is the gentleman in the chair over there, yes."
"And why a villain?"
"Well, he whispered something to the servant who was here when you came that caused him to come here and ask me to leave. That was how you rescued me."
"It is like a book or a play, isn't it?"