Page 46 of John Eyre

He sprang up from his seat and unbolted the door.

She entered, her face even paler than when she’d left.

He shut the door after her, deeply conscious of the impropriety of their being alone together in his bedchamber at this time of night. On any other occasion he wouldn’t have allowed it. At the moment, however, it seemed the least of their concerns. “Well?” he asked.

She stood in front of the cold hearth, arms folded at her waist. “It’s just as I thought.”

John was incredulous. “It was Mr. Poole?”

“He bears some responsibility, yes. But what happened tonight…it was in the way of an accident. I’m glad you’re the only person besides myself acquainted with the details of the incident. You’re no gossip, and know better than to breathe a word of it to anyone. As for the state of my room, you must leave me to explain that away to Mr. Fairfax.”

“If you insist.”

“I’ll speak to him in the morning,” she said. “In the meanwhile, we would do well to retire.”

His brows lowered. “You’re not thinking of returning to your bedroom?”

“What?” She frowned. “No, I don’t suppose I should, should I? I daresay I must find somewhere else to lay my head tonight.”

“Where?”

“The drawing room sofa, probably. There are other bedchambers, of course, but none that can be made ready without troubling Mr. Fairfax.”

“Forgive me, but the drawing room sofa? It won’t do, ma’am.”

“Do you have a better suggestion?”

He did, though it was slightly indecorous. “Take my room.”

She looked at him, the faintest hint of color rising in her cheeks. “Your room? And where will you sleep, pray?”

“In the nursery, with the boys. I can easily make a pallet on the floor.”

She shook her head. “John—”

“It will be more than sufficient to my needs. Truly. And as for you…” He went to his bed and hastily straightened the pillows and coverlet. Heat crept up his neck. “I trust it won’t be too unseemly for you to sleep here.”

“Not unseemly, no.”

“In that case…” He withdrew to the door. “I will bid you goodnight.”

She seemed surprised. “Are you leaving me already?”

“I thought you said we should both retire?”

“Yes, but don’t part from me yet, not in this formal fashion. Heaven’s sake, John. You saved my life tonight. We can nevermore be strangers.” She crossed the room to stand in front of him. “Come. Shake my hand.” She extended it to him.

John took it without hesitation. He was keenly aware that they had never before touched without gloves.

“I owe you a tremendous debt,” she said.

“You owe me nothing.”

Her slim fingers curved around his hand, clasping it warmly, bare skin to bare skin. It was one of the most intimate experiences of John’s recent memory. It made his mouth go dry. Made his heart somersault and his pulse thrum.

She gazed at him, her eyes bright. “I knew the day I met you that you would be of service to me. I saw it in your face.” Her voice trembled. “But I didn’t dare hope. Not until this moment.”

John sensed she was becoming distraught. It was, no doubt, a delayed response to the harrowing events of the night. Perhaps she was only now fully appreciating the horror of a death by fire. “I was glad to be of assistance.”