Page 71 of A Sham Engagement

She ran to the top of the stairs, the slippers flapping. Edward’s mother, she couldn’t call her by her name, too horrid, must have had bigger feet than she had, and peered down into the chasm that was the stairwell. Still no one. She had to find her way back to the guest room she’d taken her bath in last night and retrieve her clothes. But hadn’t she inadvertently suggested to Meg that they should be burned, like Edward’s? That would be a catastrophe. She’d be stuck here with no clothes to her name. Mama would probably lock her up in a tower like Rapunzel and throw away the key.

A hope came to her. Might Lady Amberley perhaps still be here? If she was, that would lend propriety to her visit. Well, it might. The thought hit her that she’d now done far worse than had been suspected on the first night she’d met Jack. If she didn’t marry him now, her reputation would be ruined, for this was sure to get out. Someone would talk. Servants were renowned for spreading gossip to the servants in other houses, and it was then just a brief hop before everyone in society would know about her indiscretions. Perceived indiscretions.

She might actually have to marry Jack. Was that such a bad thing? The thought that it wasn’t sent a warm glow to her stomach. But he didn’t want to marry her and, knowing what it was like to have someone try to force one into matrimony, she wasn’t about to be party to making him. She had to sneak out before he woke.

She hesitated at the top of the stairs, Jack’s face rising before her eyes. He’d kissed her. And what was more, he’d said he wanted to do it again. So, did that mean he liked her? If only she were better at judging what others were thinking, life would be so much easier. But he was a rake. A man all of whose relationships had been with women of loose morals. Maybe he wanted her to become his mistress? The thought wasn’t unpleasant and brought a hot flush to her cheeks as she imagined what Mama would say to that. Probably swoon. She bit her lip. And if he liked her, wasn’t it true that she liked him. A lot. More than a lot. She swallowed, her hand gripping the stair rail. Did she want him to marry her? A question she refused to answer. Did she want to be his mistress? Good heavens, was she actually thinking the answer to that might be yes? A tingle ran down her body at the very thought. And she didn’t feel guilty about it. How naughty.

But this was getting her nowhere but cold. She ran down the stairs to the landing below and quickly found the guest room. The filthy clothes she’d taken off yesterday lay spread on the bed. Someone had worked a miracle on them and the mud was gone, although both gown and pelisse now looked as though they’d be more suitable on a denizen of the slums. But, as her old nurse had said, beggars couldn’t be choosers. If she wanted to get home she’d have to put these on, repellent as the thought was.

It took her a good half hour to negotiate the stays and ties on her slips, petticoats and gown. Never had she more needed Agatha’s deft fingers, but she still didn’t dare ring the bell for help. It might be better if no one knew she’d stayed the night. In fact, there was no “might” about it. It would without question be better.

However, this was to prove impossible, because when she crept out of the guest room, settling her battered bonnet on her head, the first thing she did was bump into one of the housemaids. The one who’d brought all the hot water up for her bath the night before.

“Ooh, miss.” The girl, clutching a basket of coal and kindling, staggered back a few steps. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think no one would be up yet. Not after last night.”

Elenora put her finger to her lips. “You haven’t seen me. Just go on about your work and forget me.”

Puzzlement flooded the girl’s homely face. “Forget I seen you?”

Trust her to come across the only housemaid with the brain of a flea. “Yes. I’m not here. Get on with your work.”

The girl’s jaw sagged. Elenora experienced a strong urge to put her finger under it and close her mouth for her. Instead, she abandoned the gawping girl and hurried down the next flight of stairs. Foiled again. Alcock was in the front hall. Lurking. She was sure butlers had a propensity for lurking, otherwise how would they always be on hand to open doors? She only spotted him when it was too late to retreat. Damn and blast it, and other things too. She’d gained a working knowledge of words her mother would have been shocked at from her brothers. She’d have to brazen it out.

“Good morning, Alcock.” She reached the foot of the stairs and approached the door.

“Miss Wetherby. May I be of assistance?”

“I am returning home and will be quite all right, thank you.”

Alcock’s face clouded. “Shall I send for the carriage, miss?”

“Good heavens, no. I shall walk.”

“I’m afraid it’s raining hard and his lordship would not like you to catch a chill. Nor walk home alone and unattended. Please allow me to order the coach brought around.” His tone was insistent. Almost an order.

She could stand and argue with Alcock, or she could meekly acquiesce. The latter alternative won. “Very well.” She sat down on an upholstered chair. “I’ll wait here for it.”

Alcock seemed a little surprised at her insistence on remaining in the hall, but, satisfied that he’d done what his master would have wanted, disappeared, no doubt to inform the grooms and coachman that their services were needed.

Elenora fidgeted on her seat. She could get up now and head for home on foot. It wasn’t far and she was sure she could find her way. Well, now she came to think of it, not quite sure. How dreadful would it be if she got lost? She was just thinking she’d brave the rain before Alcock returned, when one of the footmen, who must have also been lurking out of sight, materialized out of thin air, or so it appeared, and hurried to open the front door.

On a gust of rainy air, Jack hurried into the hallway.

Jack had been hurrying back from Amberley House on foot, when the rain began. Without his greatcoat, he was soon wet through, but this didn’t stop him. He had to get back before Elenora woke up and realized what a faux pas she’d made by falling asleep in Edward’s bedroom.

As he reached his front door, he gave himself a shake to dispel some of the rain from his hat, and strode up to the door. As if by magic, it swung open, and he hurried into the dry to be faced with Elenora, seated in a chair at the foot of the stairs, dressed in her pelisse and bonnet of last night. He ground to a halt and behind him someone unseen closed the door.

Elenora jumped to her feet in shock, one hand going to her mouth.

For a long moment he regarded her in silence. She was even more beautiful than he remembered, although the sight of her asleep in bed had been delightfully disturbing.

Jack broke the silence first. “Elenora.”

“Yes?” Her blue eyes were wary.

“I need to talk to you.”

“You do?”