Page 27 of Better Off Wed

“All over England tonight, people with minds filled by tomorrow’s worries and no desire for anything but sleep, people who don’t even like each other, will climb into the same bed and lie side by side for a few hours,” she said, in what she no doubt imagined to be a reassuring tone. “Surely, for the sake of Miss Godfrey, we can do the same? As to my reputation, I am perfectly indifferent. And as to concern for my person, well…” Her gray eyes twinkled, and she gave the reticule a little shake, rattling the contents. “Are you certain I haven’t another hatpin?”

In a sure sign he had succumbed to madness, he laughed outright this time. And blew out the brace of candles on the bedside table. And shed his coat—but not, definitely not, his breeches. And lay down atop the soft, luxurious bed, careful not to jostle her foot, or any other part of her.

“See? Was that so difficult?” The linens rustled as she settled herself more comfortably. “Goodnight, Jeremy darling.”

He could picture the smile he heard in her voice. “Goodnight, Miss—er, Laura.”

He stared into the darkness for what might have been an hour, listening to the muffled ticking of Penhurst’s pocket watch and, soon enough, the soft, even breathing of the sleeping woman beside him.

People who don’t even like each other will climb into the same bed…

She was difficult and changeable and a practiced liar. Not to mention fit for Bedlam. Oh, and creative and filled with righteous wrath and really, impossibly lovely.

Not liking her wasn’t the problem.

Chapter 8

Laura stirred, not immediately sure what had woken her: a noise, the pain in her ankle, or the sudden awareness of finding herself in a strange bed.

Yesterday’s carriage accident, the arrival of Lord Sterling, her plan to ensure that the household believed them to be newlyweds…all of it came rushing to her before her eyes were fully open.

But not before she realized she was alone in that bed.

This is madness, he’d said. You are mad. No faith at all in her scheme. Why, he’d probably risen the moment she’d drifted off and…and what? Gone to sleep in the dressing room? Left Thornton Hall entirely?

Ruined everything?

She dared to peek from beneath a mound of bed linens. At the far end of the room, two maids were busy about their work, both brown-haired and near in age, one sweeping out the ashes while the other gathered up empty dishes and put them on the tray. Neither of them had been part of the cadre of servants who had assisted her the night before.

As they worked, they spoke to one another in low voices.

“Do you suppose it’s her? The Lady Sterling from the papers?”

A huff of skepticism from the one at the hearth. “And why should she come all this way?”

“To help us?”

“If that Lady Sterling exists, she i’n’t likely to be lyin’ in that bed, now is she? You heard Mrs. Tenney—that lady is a new bride who got a bit skittery, ran away from her man, an’ got hurt.”

The girl dawdling over the tea table got a faraway look in her eye. “Have you seen ’im? I wouldn’ta run.”

With little effort, Laura too conjured an image of Lord Sterling, his raven-dark hair and arresting blue eyes, the perfect angle of his jaw shadowed last night with a hint of scruff.

“Dinah!”

“You’re just jealous,” came the saucy reply. Laura no longer had to strain to hear the exchange. “You might’ve laid eyes on him if you’d been in the breakfast room this morning.”

“Some of us have work to do,” sniffed her counterpart, rising and dusting off her hands.

“An’ wasn’t I there on Mrs. Tenney’s orders? You’re just fussed because she don’t trust you not to break things. Anyway, I saw ’im when I was gatherin’ up dishes, same as I am now, an’ I heard ’im thank Lord Thornton for the offer.”

“What did ’is lordship offer ’im, then?” asked the other girl, wary.

A shrug. “The loan of a gun, maybe? James Tucker says he saw ’em leave the house together, dressed for shootin’.”

The first girl turned to the window and pushed open the drapes. Gray morning light starkened her skeptical expression. “You’re the one who told me not to trust ’is lordship. Nor ’is friends—no matter how han’some.”

Laura found it a commendable retort. Experience had taught her that handsome gentleman were just as likely to commit atrocious acts—perhaps more so. And the worst behavior of all was mostly possible because other men countenanced it, or at least looked the other way.