“Good morning, MissValentine.”
The cheerful greeting of her maid woke her, and Lola opened her eyes, blinking a little in the morning light. Her eyes hurt, the dry, burning hurt that came after a crying jag. “What time is it?” she asked, sitting up on her elbows to find her maid at the foot of her bed with a tray.
“Half past twelve,” Marianne answered. “Your usual time after a show. Would you like to dress? Or have breakfast first?”
“Neither.” She sat upright in the bed, shoved a lock of her hair out of her face as she worked to clear her sleep-clogged senses. “Marianne, I need you to do something for me first thing. I need you to go to Cook’s and arrange for us to return to New York.”
The maid’s lips parted in surprise, but she was too well trained to question her mistress. “Of course. When would you like to depart?”
“As soon as possible, so you’d best go now and make the arrangements.”
“Yes, ma’am. But won’t you wish me to dress you before I go? And have breakfast sent up?”
“No.” Lola sank back into the pillows. “I just want to go back to sleep. Feel free to have luncheon while you’re out. And wake me when you return.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
The maid departed, and Lola closed her eyes, but just as she fell asleep, she was awakened again, this time by a knocking sound.
She sat up, looked through the open doorway of her bedroom and realized the knock she’d heard was coming from the outer door to the suite.
“MissValentine?” a muffled male voice called from the corridor.
Still dazed, her eyes heavy with sleep, Lola shoved back the counterpane with a sigh, got out of bed, and walked to the doorway of her room.
“MissValentine?” the voice called again. “Are you there?”
“Yes,” she answered. “What is it?”
“Room service, ma’am.”
Damn it, she’d told Marianne she didn’t want breakfast sent up. She frowned, trying to think. Hadn’t she told her that?
“MissValentine?” the voice called. “Breakfast and coffee.”
Coffee? Lola lifted her head, her spirits lifting a bit. After the night she’d had, coffee sounded awfully good. “Just a moment, please.”
She returned to her bedroom, opened the armoire, and pulled out a soft green tea gown that buttoned in front. She slipped it on over her nightdress and did up the buttons, then shoved her feet into a pair of silk slippers. Dressed, more or less, she returned to the sitting room, retrieved a sixpence from her handbag, and walked to the door. She opened it, but though the man standing outside her door with a cart wore the livery of a Savoy footman, he was definitely not a member of the hotel staff.
“Denys?” She rubbed her fingertips over her sleep-dazed eyes, wondering if she was dreaming. “What are you doing here?”
Chapter20
He’d gotten her out of bed, he knew, and the realization made Denys catch his breath. To him, this was the time of day when she had always looked loveliest, when her dark red hair was loose and tumbled around her shoulders, when her face was bereft of powder and rouge, and he could see the golden freckles that dusted her nose and cheeks. He swallowed hard, fighting the impulse to shove the cart aside, lift her into his arms, and carry her into the bedroom.
But he won that battle by reminding himself that he was playing for stakes far higher than just a tumble in the sheets. Forcing desire aside, he bowed. “Good morning, MissValentine.”
Using her fists, she rubbed her eyes again, making him smile, for the gesture was reminiscent of a little girl waking from a dream. “Why are you dressed like a Savoy footman?”
“Oh, this.” He smoothed the waistcoat of his uniform. “Like it?”
Clearly confounded, she closed her eyes and shook her head, and when she looked at him again, her sleepy haze had dissipated, and she was frowning. “Denys, you can’t be up here outside my rooms.”
“Lola, isn’t it a bit silly to tell me I can’t do what I have already done?”
She leaned forward, sticking her head out into the corridor. “Someone might see you.”
“So what?”
