But he knew what he needed in that respect, too, didn’t he?
He would deal with that—in time.
For now…
He drew the curtains closed, turned to the bed, and firmly shifted his thoughts to the events of the evening and the minor yet satisfying successes he, Caitlin, and the other residents had achieved.
Hopefully, the thud in his blood had faded enough to allow him to sleep.
Caitlin lay in her bed and stared, unseeing, at the ceiling.
Her senses were still whirling, her witless mind utterly engrossed in reliving those moments in the darkened gallery. She had no notion how long it might be before her ability to think rationally returned.
Her lips still throbbed, heated and hungry. She’d been a heartbeat from stretching up and offering them to him.
Thank God she hadn’t!
What if I had?
And therein lay a source of endless vacillation. One part of her—the eager, youthful, brimful-of-confidence, reckless part she’d reined in for so long—wanted to forge ahead, grasp the tiger’s tail, and find out what might be, while the sensible, practical, steadfast, and determined part usually in the ascendant, certainly over the past three years, thought that encouraging herself or him to take another step closer would be a very bad idea.
She was the Hall’s chatelaine, and he was the Hall’s owner.
Both of them had a responsibility to everyone else on the estate, a responsibility she, for one, considered sacred and would never shirk.
From all she’d seen of and experienced with him over recent days, he wasn’t about to set aside his responsibility, either.
Although neither she nor anyone else at the Hall had broached the matter with him, the unvoiced consensus of expectation regarding him had shifted. Increasingly, everyone thought—and even more, hoped—that he would stay.
And that, she admitted to herself, might prove problematic.
On several fronts.
Chapter 7
The next morning, in light of his previous evening’s discussion with Reverend Millicombe, Gregory accompanied Caitlin, Alice, Millie, Vernon, Percy, and Joshua to Sunday service at All Saints Church.
Better he show his face now so that, if necessary, he could miss services later without attracting any special notice, or so his reasoning went. The day was, after all, only the second Sunday he’d been at the Hall; for an unmarried gentleman of his ilk, that was perfectly acceptable observance.
He’d descended for breakfast at his usual time, but Caitlin had already been and gone. The next time he’d laid eyes on her was as the group had gathered in the front hall, ready to depart. She’d glanced at him in surprise, then returned his “Good morning” with a murmured greeting and a dip of her head and, thereafter, had endeavored to behave toward him exactly as she had previously.
At least, outwardly.
He’d wrestled his inner wolf into submission over not provoking her skittering senses, to which, after those fraught moments in the gallery the night before, he was now so much more attuned. With respect to her, he was, he told himself, perfectly willing to play a waiting game.
He walked beside her into the church and discovered that Hall residents traditionally occupied the front pews on the left. Consequently, when Reverend Millicombe stood before the congregation, Gregory was front and center and, unsurprisingly, the recipient of a beaming, welcoming smile.
Millicombe proved to be one of those ministers who had an excellent grasp of the patience of his flock. He kept his sermon concise and his prayers to the point.
A bare forty-five minutes later, the congregation rose, and benediction was said, then everyone followed the reverend up the aisle.
Gregory—as befitted his station—was the first to shake the minister’s hand. “An excellent service.”
Millicombe beamed. “Now you’ve found your way here, I hope we’ll see you often.”
Gregory dipped his head in what might be taken for agreement and moved on. He waited while Caitlin smiled at Millicombe and shared something that made the man laugh, then she joined Gregory on the lawn, and he decided feeling jealous of the minister was utterly ludicrous.
As he’d hoped, the church lawn after Sunday service proved an excellent venue in which to meet the wider circle of local gentry in a neutral setting, with the added benefit that ladies with daughters were less likely to attempt to entrap him under the eye of Millicombe and his wife, who came over to introduce herself, having had to miss the dinner the previous evening due to an illness among the parish flock.
