She knelt before him. “Lord Andrew.”
He did not look up, his head hung between bent knees.
“Lord Andrew, what has happened? Something must have happened to?—”
His hands surged up, spearing through her hair, pulling her down where his upturned lips waited to taste her. It began as a clash. A kiss that tasted of panic and despair. Then it melted into something softer, sweeter. With his fingers strong against her skull, but gentle too, he tasted first one lip and then the other and sighed as if he’d found home. She knew not what to do except to let him continue as he pleased. It pleased her, too, and though not her first kiss, it was the first to set her afire. But before she could trace the curve of his cheek with her fingers, he broke away, pushed to his feet, and strode toward the still-open front door.
“Hell. Hell. Hell,” he hissed. “I apologize. I am so very sorry. I should not have. Why did I…? Hell!”
Why had he indeed. Yes. Of course he apologized.Of course he would.She passed him and put her entire body into the work of shutting the door, relished the creak of old hinges that drowned out his incessant apology. When the door slammed shut, she turned toward the stairs.
“Follow me, Lord Andrew. Whyever you are here, you should get dry and warm. Do you have belongings?”
He did not answer, and halfway up the first flight, she turned to look down at him. He stared at her pale faced and wide eyed, arms slack at his sides. He blinked several times. “My… my belongings are in the coach. But it is down the road some ways. A wheel broke.”
“Ah. Yes. The roads are nearly impassable when the rain is heavy. Come along, then. We’ll find you something. I should send Bernard out to retrieve your belongings, but he’s quite busy and does not relish interruptions. I hope you do not mind.”
“N-no. N-not at all.”
Did a chill shake his voice? Or something else? One of those emotions that had so recently raged across his face, flashed through his usually icy eyes? If so, it had disappeared, had drained away so only ice remained.
When they reached the wing of the castle that had been opened for use, Amelia stood, hands folded before her, at the hallway’s end. She’d written ahead of time and requested three bedchambers made ready, for her, Miss Angleton, and Bernard. But now they needed a fourth. And it did take Carlisle and Mrs. Scott an age to do the necessary work.
“Hm. Bernard is in the servants’ quarters, and you should not make use of Miss Angleton’s chamber. You must make use of mine until we can prepare another. Come along.” She led him into her room but did not leave the safety of the door as he passed through to the fire blazing in the grate. “I’ll rummage around for something you can wear. Bernard, perhaps, can be of assistance. When you’ve disrobed, you can set your wet things outside the door, and I’ll have them cleaned and dried for you.”
He nodded, turning in circles, his gaze darting over every inch of the room.
“I’ll return shortly.” She left, closing the door softly behind her, and promptly melted to the floorboards. She covered her face with her palms and heaved a sob that seemed a cry from her very heart. Just one. Tears welled but did not fall. Then she took a bracing breath and pushed to standing, locked every emotion away behind doors as fearsome as those Lord Andrew had entered through mere moments ago. Before the kiss. Then she smoothed her skirts and went in search of Bernard.
She found Miss Angleton first and muffled her scream with her palm. “What in heaven’s name are you doing, Miss Angleton? Get down from there!”
The earl’s daughter turned governess turned temporary companion stood on the second floor of the library, or rather,on top of the railing of the second floor of the library. It was a stout wood stuff, and she seemed to have excellent balance. Only wavered a bit with Amelia’s yelp. Butstill.
Miss Angleton did not get down. She walked the length of the railing, turned slowly on the balls of her bare feet then walked it back again with a grin. “I was bored. I’m not anymore. Would you like a book?”
“I would like you not to fall and break your neck. Down. This instant.”
Miss Angleton huffed but obeyed, and Amelia could breathe once more.
“Now,” Amelia said, “Do you know where Bernard is? We have an unexpected guest who lost to an encounter with the rain. Soaked through like a drowned cat. He needs clothes.” She could not bring herself to say his name. Perhaps because the man who had stormed through her door and kissed her soundly did not seem like the man she would have to name.
“Bernard isn’t with the other servants?”
“I checked there first.”
“Maybe the stables. He has a mind to set those right as well.”
Amelia craned her neck to see out a nearby window. Still raining. And harder than before. “He would.” Upon leaving, Lord Andrew had told the footman to “take care of Mrs. Dart and bring her back to Manchester safely, or else.” Vague, thator else, but effective, apparently. Bernard now seemed intent on perfecting everything within Amelia’s orbit, including her staff. All part, he believed, of avoidingor else. “I do not relish the idea of trekking to the stables, but needs must.”
“Mrs. Dart, who is our visitor?” Miss Angleton eyed the railing above her head. She’d be up there again as soon as Amelia turned her back and closed the door.
She felt a headache coming on, and in no small part because his name sat necessary on her tongue. She would have to speakit—and in different tones than she’d said it in the entry hall, with worry and panic, with more than a touch of dreaminess.
He was here. And it had something to do with…
Marriage.
Oh, heavens, no. She had the letter, didn’t she? She raced back toward her bedchamber. She must search her trunk, her cloak, her pelisse pockets, and every drawer for Tidsdale’s cursed letter. But the pile of soaked clothing in the hallway outside her bedchamber door stopped her dead. She could not go in there. A naked man was in there.Thenaked man. She backed away slowly, then fled down the stairs and out into the rain. She, too, was soaked by the time she reached the stables.
