She stared at the floor. "Thank you, everyone has been so so kind."
"You ain't going to cry, are you? I'd rather face the French cannon again, rather than that." Nialla sniffled but shook her head, so he went on. "And don't go thinking that anyone here will be holding what happened against you. My brother told enough for me to wish I could call that cad Podell out myself."
"He told you? I wish he had not. I am so ashamed."
"Fustian. No one thinks any the less of you, ma'am. Your father is another story. But you do not have to worry about that kind of thing anymore. My brother will take care of everything. He always does. Great gun, the earl."
"That's what Lady Windham said, too, but I cannot help worrying. The earl and the countess and Lady Brianne have been so good to me, going to such effort, for no reason. I am no connection, no responsibility of theirs. And I feel odd, accepting their charity."
Christopher pushed the cup of lemonade aside, spilling a little, which had him blue-deviled again. "You don't have to tell me about accepting charity. Confound it, I'll be a yoke around their necks for the rest of my life."
"Surely not." She put her hand to his forehead without thinking. "Why, your fever is almost gone. You'll be recovering faster now."
"And then what?" he asked bitterly. "I cannot go back to the army. It was bad enough that my poor eyesight kept me from a field command. Dash it, if Kenyon hadn't twisted some arms, I'd never have been allowed my colors at all. But now? I would not even be fit for a desk position. Besides, the war is almost over, everyone says so. But the military was the only career I've ever known."
"You'll find something else, I'm sure. Some way you can support yourself so you won't feel so dependent on your family."
He lightly touched her hand. "And so will you. You'll come about, I'm certain."
"How? I have even fewer skills than you."
Kit did not have the answer, but he smiled, for the first time in months, it seemed. "I knowyou'll feel better about accepting Windham's generosity if you make yourself useful around here."
She had to laugh. "You obviously don't know how many servants Lady Windham has tripping over each other. According to your sister, the countess turns no one away."
"But those are servants, Sunshine. You could be doing Windham and his bride a great favor if you help me, so they don't feel obliged to. You cannot imagine how frustrating it is not to be able to turn the pages of a newspaper, or shuffle a deck of cards."
"Truly? You're not just being kind, trying to make me feel less indebted, are you?"
"Word of a Warriner. I have spent so much time looking at walls, I'd welcome Old Harry himself if he'd play chess."
"I'm not very good at it."
"Even better! I hate to lose."
"And it would be proper? No one would think it wrong for me to sit with you in your bedroom?"
He laughed again. "You are the least likeliest-looking matron I've ever seen, Sunshine, but you are a respectable widow, for all anyone knows. And we'll leave the door open. Besides, my condition is not quite conducive to an affair. Not yet, at any rate."
So Nialla sat by the bed, reading the morning newspaper to Captain Warriner, discussing the day's events and sharing his breakfast when it came. He augmented the war news, and she talked about the latest styles, neither feeling the least awkwardness at her cutting his food, or him spilling the occasional forkful. They decided which plays were worth seeing, what on dit could not possibly be true, and that Windham should speak up in Parliament about the plight of returning soldiers. So intent was Nialla, in fact, that she forgot about feeding the cat.
The cat had long since decided to find its own meal, pushing open Nialla's bedroom door and following its scarred nose down the stairs.
Brianne was up early, unusually so for one who seldom stirred before noon, but she had too much on her mind to waste the day in bed. She had to speak to her brother before he made any decisions concerning the Honorableor notWesley Royce. Her high-handed brother was not going to hand Brianne's highwayman over to the authorities. She'd help him escape herself first.
Why this was so, why she was ready to forsake her principles for the sake of a handsome rogue, she was not sure. Not because he had laughing eyes, she told herself, and not because he'd kissed her. How dare he take such liberties! And perhaps he would again if she helped him steal out of the house. "Steal" was perhaps the wrong word to use, she pondered as she scrambled into her gown and pulled a comb through her hair. But she knew what it meant to be trapped, confined by conventions. At least Mr. Royce had taken control of his own fate. He deserved another chance.
Not that she believed her highwayman should walk off, scot-free, she thought as she went down the hall, not noticing the cat sniffing past her. Her brother had too fine a sense of justice, for one thing. But there was no reason Wesley could not work off his misdeeds, like those boys who'd broken the church window last year. Yes, she decided, that was it. Kenyon would find Mr. Royce a position, proving that he did not have to resort to a risky life of crime.
Mr. Royce disagreed. "What, let your brother frank me, after trying to rob his womenfolk? What kind of man do you think me, woman?"
"A prize fool, but I'd see your neck out of a noose anyway."
"You don't understand about a man's honor. I could not accept favors from Windham, and he would not offer. I consider myself lucky not to be facing transportation. His man was by this morning and said he didn't think the earl was that angry, but I am not going to press my luck or abuse his hospitality a moment longer than I have to. I'll be on my way as soon as you leave me to get dressed."
So she picked up his freshly laundered breeches, his carefully mended coat, and the clean shirt of Kenyon's that the valet had brought, and shredded them, using the knife on his breakfast tray. "You are staying."
Wesley threw his head back and laughed. "If a woman feels that strongly about keeping a fellow in bed, he'd be no gentleman to deny her. Come give us a kiss, my impetuous darling, and we'll talk about it."
The earl was up early. Despite the short hours of sleep, his mind was too restless for him to stay abed. Kenyon needed to reassure himself that his wife had not taken any ill-effects from her brush with Benton or the bandit. He pulled on his robe and opened the connecting door.
Aurora was still asleep, looking warm and rosy, and so damn appealing Kenyon wanted, quite desperately, in fact, to crawl into bed beside her. But she needed her rest, and he needed to make sure that his brother was still on the mend. Leaving him in the hands of servants was worrisome.
He need not have troubled himself at all, for his brother was eating and drinking and, yes, laughing with little Mrs. Podell. She wasn't even weeping, bless her skitter-witted soul.
They never noticed him in the doorway, or when he left. He never noticed the cat creeping down the stairs. He was too busy marveling that his sister was also up and dressed before luncheon, and visiting with the highwayman. Oliver must be right, then. Lud, a highwayman for a brother-in-law! Of course it was better than a bigamist. And if Royce made Brianne happyand out of Kenyon's hairhe'd send his solicitor to see about the man's inheritance this very morning. Hell, he'd pay it himself.
The rest of the guests, Aurora's aunt and uncle, were already out collecting whatever it was they collected, according to the footman in the hall. Kenyon expected to see tadpoles in his teacup next, but if they were content, he was content not playing the polite host every moment. Aunt Ellenette was in the breakfast room, the footman informed him, but Frederick was with her, so she already had someone to talk to. She'd take exception to his undress anyway, so he went back up the stairs to his wife's bedroom.
Aurora woke up late. She'd intended to get the household in order so his lordship would not be put to the least bother. Her husband had been so understanding, so reassuring, so So she sat in bed, dreaming over her chocolate. She smiled at him when he came into the room, almost as if she had conjured him out of sweet reveries. He certainly looked like a maiden's dream this morning, with his hair still tousled from sleep and a slight shadow on his jawline. "Good morning, my lord."
"And to you, my lady." He placed the rose that he'd filched from the hall table on the pillow beside her.
"I'm glad you came. We need to talk."
He sat beside her on the bed, smoothing the hair away from her cheeks. She did not shy away, so he touched her lips with his fingers, butterfly-soft. "Sh. Not yet. Everyone is well and accounted for. In fact, I don't know how you planned it, but your latest venture has wrought miracles." And her body, under its thin silk covering, was making magic of its own. He kissed her, tasting the chocolate on her lips. "Hmm. You know, I have been thinking, my dear, that we know each other a lot better than we did. We really ought to have our wedding night one of these days."
"Hmm." Her whole body was hmm- ing in response. "But what of your doubts?"
Windham was relieved that she hadn't mentioned her doubts. His bride was not going to stand on her scruples any longer, thank goodness. He couldn't have stood another day. "I read some of your mother's letters," he told her. "The ones she wrote to your aunt. She begs forgiveness for what she is about to do, without specifics, in the same letter sending her daughter away. You must be right. Elizabeth planned to claim her child's death to get you away from your lawful father."