“Are you still determined to go to the kitchens?”
“I think I must, or I’ll wither away.”
“You really are ridiculous. You do know that.”
He draped an arm over her shoulders in a manner that was far too familiar. “I know you like me more than you let on.”
“You don’t know anything.” She removed his arm and crossed to the door, not waiting to see if he followed. This door opened into a narrow corridor. The staff had gone to bed and the lights were out. Of course, Arundel stopped behind her a moment later, carrying a lamp. Dratted man thought of everything. “I’ll carry that,” she said, taking it from him. “You had better hold on to the wall.”
“Your concern is touching.”
She moved slower than she would have liked so he could take his time. Her concern was touching, after all. At the landing to the stairway, she paused. This part of the house was open so one might stand at the gallery railing and look down into the foyer. A footman sat by the door, his head lolling on his shoulder. Other than that, they were alone. Belle turned to Arundel. “Put one arm about my waist and use the other to hold onto the railing.”
“No need. I’m fine.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “Do not make me mention how you fainted the last time you tried these stairs.”
“I rather think you just mentioned it.”
“If you don’t want me to take this lamp and march right back to my chamber then do as I say.”
“I think you were a schoolmaster in another life.” He put his arm around her waist, and she tried not to notice how warm he was. He wasn’t overly warm. The heat of fever had left him. Now he felt comfortingly warm and solid. It seemed absurd to think she would be the one to support him.
“I don’t believe we have other lives. That’s blasphemy.”
“It’s more like heresy than blasphemy.” He gripped the railing, and they started down the steps. “But unless there’s a clergyman lurking nearby, I think we’re safe from rebuke.”
He really was making good progress on the stairs. He probably hadn’t needed her assistance, but she told herself it was best to be safe. She told herself she’d wanted his arm about her waist only to keep him steady, not because she liked it when he touched her. And how pathetic to think that the only way a man would touch her was if he was compelled because he was too ill to make it down the stairs himself.
At the base of the steps, he released her, and Belle tried not to think about how eager he was to be free of her. Of course, there was another set of stairs to the kitchens. At the top, he reached for her again, but she sidestepped. “I think you’re fine on your own.”
“Do you really think we should risk it?”
Belle stared at him. She had to be imagining that he wanted to touch her. She had the urge to go on ahead and force him to make his way to the kitchens alone, but if he did fall, she would never forgive herself.
“You’re right. You might faint at any moment.”
He put his arm around her waist and squeezed her, making her yelp when he touched a ticklish spot. “I told you,” he said near her ear. “I don’t faint.”
Belle shivered at the feel of his breath on the sensitive skin of her neck. She struggled to control her breathing, struggled more to keep from turning in his arms, pushing him against the wall, and kissing him. What was the matter with her?
“Let’s go,” she said, her voice sounding far harsher than she’d intended.
He drew back, grasping the plain wooden railing and moving down the stairs with her. At the bottom, they stepped into the kitchen. She set the lamp on the large preparation table in the center and looked about at the hanging copper pots and tidy counters.
“Here’s the larder,” Arundel said, trying a large door. He stepped inside and reappeared with a plate covered with a cloth. “What have we here?” His eyebrows went up and down comically, and she couldn’t stop herself from smiling.
He set the plate on the table near the lamp and withdrew the napkin with a flourish. Belle peered down at the plate. “Scones,” she said. “Probably intended for the staff.”
He lifted one and bit into it. “Sorry staff,” he said, mouth full. He took another bite, and she looked about, wondering where the tea stores might be. She’d had enough for tonight, but she was curious to see which teas the baroness kept on hand. But instead of finding the tea, she caught her reflection in the window glass. A window above the sink looked out upon the yard, and as it was night, her lamp turned the window into something of a mirror. She could see Arundel starting on yet another scone and herself, small and looking stiff and proper beside him. Normally, she didn’t like looking into mirrors, but the lovely thing about a reflection in a window was that it was poor quality and didn’t show her pockmarked skin.
She looked almost pretty in the window reflection.
“This one is lemon,” Arundel said, holding half a scone out. She turned to look at him. “Best one yet. Have a bite.”
Belle was about to say she wasn’t hungry, but her stomach chose that moment to growl. His brows rose. “Don’t say you don’t want it. You’re as hungry as I am.”
“I doubt that,” she said, eyeing the all but empty plate.
