She remembered going to the ball with her aunt and uncle. Sir Rupert sitting beside her.
Then… things got fuzzy. Cool night air. Dark garden. Uncomfortable bench.
Hands touching her inappropriately.
A low, deep growl, like a large wild animal.
Someone … a man … helping her stand. Holding her while she—
Good heavens, holding her up while her supper made a return appearance.
Carrying her over his shoulder like a sack of flour.
Holding her on his lap in a moving carriage.
While she played with his hair. Soft, silky strands. No pomade.
Who was he? Was he here? Wherewashere? She swung her legs to the floor and sat up.
She held her head as the room spun, and fell back against what turned out to be sofa cushions. Gradually she became aware of music quietly being played, a solo string instrument. She sat up straight, searching out the source of the lovely sound.
The music stopped. “Ah, you’re awake.” The cultured voice came from a woman about her aunt’s age, with silver hair and dressed in a maroon ball gown and jewels, who sat in a straight-backed chair by the window. She balanced a soprano viola da gamba on her left knee, bow in her right hand. After speaking, she rose to put the instrument away in a case, then sat on the comfortable armchair by the hearth, where a blanket was draped over the nearby ottoman. Had she sat with Ashley through the night? A crackling fire blazed. Sunlight peeked through heavy curtains that had been pulled open just far enough to spill light onto the music stand. Carriages rumbled by on the street outside.
Ashley’s gaze shot around the nicely appointed room, and discovered she was alone with the silver-haired woman. She glanced down and was relieved to see she was still dressed in what she’d worn to the ball last night—itwasonly last night, wasn’t it? —minus her dancing slippers and paisley silk shawl.
“You likely have a dozen questions. But first I must inquire … how is your head?”
“My head?” Her voice came out in a raspy croak.
The woman gestured at the teapot and cup on the low table before the sofa. “Help yourself. It has lemon and honey to soothe your throat. Drink up. You need to replenish the fluids you lost.”
Ashley felt her cheeks flush as she poured a cup.
She paused with the cup inches from her mouth. The last thing she remembered drinking was a nasty tasting punch.
“You have no reason to trust me, though I assure you you’re safe here. This tea has indeed been altered but in a way that will help, not harm.”
Ashley took a sip of the cool tea. It felt surprisingly good going down her irritated throat, so she drank deeply. “You seem to know more about what happened to me than I do.” She refilled her cup. Her head felt clear with only a hint of leftover headache.
“Not by much.” The woman rose and tugged the bellpull. “Do you feel up to eating?”
Ashley’s stomach growled.
“I’ll take that as a yes.” A maid entered and curtsied. “Let Cook know we’re ready to break our fast.”
“Yes, my lady.” She bobbed another curtsy and left.
“Come, child,” the silver-haired woman said. “I’ll show you to a guest room so you may freshen up.”
Ashley stifled an inelegant snort at being referred to as a child but slipped on her shoes and obediently followed. She couldn’t help taking note of the furnishings and size of the home. The townhouse seemed at least as large as the one Uncle Edward had rented for the Season, and better appointed. No family crest hung on the walls to identify the owners, though. The only portrait she saw depicted a young couple dressed from decades ago—a bewigged gentleman playing a lute, his female companion playing a violin. No, on second glance, she played a soprano viola da gamba. The same woman leading Ashley up the staircase, perhaps?
The guest room had a lovely four-poster bed that looked inviting, a cheery fire in the grate, the wash basin on the nightstand held a steaming pitcher of water, and a comb and brush awaited her on the vanity.
“When you feel more the thing, come downstairs. Dining room is the first door on the right at the bottom of the stairs.”
“Thank you.”
Her hostess shut the door as she left.
