“Ask him why he was in the passageway.” Rosemary’s anger surged to the surface. She’d never wanted to pummel anyone in her life as much as she did Oliver, not even the most ruthless of debt collectors who had hounded the sisters without mercy for months on end. He’d gotten under her skin, and he knew it. “Ask him the reason why.”
Sir Oliver glanced at Lilac and shrugged helplessly, the handsome prince confronted by an evil witch. “I tried to explain to her last night, but she wouldn’t listen. You are my witness. She won’t listen to me now.”
“Rosemary, I’m truly ashamed of you,” Lilac said in an undertone.
“He’s a snake,” Rosemary said in an incredulous voice. “And he’s crawled into your good graces. Lilac, you’re a bumpkin and I shall tear my hair out by the roots with despair of you.”
Lilac calmly took her by the arm. “He went into the passageway because the carpenters had warned him that the interior structure of the house showed signs of decay. He was afraid the manor would collapse in on itself like a house of cards. He was concerned about the safety of the workmen and that we might witness an accident.”
Rosemary remained unmoved. “And his solution to this imaginary tragedy was to sacrifice himself? How noble.”
“I thought so,” Lilac said, frowning.
“Noble deeds can be performed during the day,” Rosemary exclaimed. “Wouldn’t it have been safer to explore in the morning with someone standing by with a light? And to ask permission?”
Sir Oliver looked sheepish. “I had a little too much wine last night and got carried away. I never meant to frighten anyone. Rosemary is right. I should have told someone what I was up to.”
“Do you see, Rosemary?” Lilac said. “This is what happens when one is cut off from society for five years. One loses perspective.”
“One loses one’s mind,” Rosemary muttered, walking straight past Oliver to the door with her pen and notebook in hand.
Lilac stared after her. “Don’t you have something else to say?”
“Yes. I have a pounding headache and I’m going to lock myself in Ivy’s room for the day. Aside from the delivery of a pot of tea and an apple tart, I would appreciate not being disturbed again.”
* * *
Sir Oliver studied Lilac’s generous curves from the chair in which she had forced him to sit and let her fuss over him like an angel of mercy. He had come close to asphyxiation in that passageway, and revival by a woman with a fine pair of bosoms and glittering blond curls had helped restore his temper.
She didn’t seem to suspect a thing, which made him wonder if he had chosen the wrong sister to pursue and whether it was too late to change tactics without looking like a complete bounder.
Lilac was lovely. Lilac was also lame. But he hadn’t intended to take his heiress wife to London, so in that regard her appearance mattered less than her fortune.
All the sisters appeared to be enamored of the manor house. He didn’t foresee a problem leaving his bride to rusticate while he carried on his usual affairs.
He reached around the chair for his jacket. “Lovely angel, it would be wrong of me to allow anyone else to catch us alone together in this bedroom and assume the worst.”
Lilac sighed. “That’s thoughtful of you, but there’s no one in this house to care anymore, Sir Oliver. I don’t know why my sisters think you’re up to no good.”
He pulled down his jacket sleeve. “Sisters? You mean Rosemary is not the only one?”
“Rue doesn’t much care for you, I’m afraid,” Lilac admitted.
He feigned a smile. “But you do?”
“Is there a reason I shouldn’t?”
“I can think of none, Lilac.”
Chapter 19
James didn’t see Ivy in the morning. His first instinct, which happened to be his basest instinct, urged him to seek her out. Inquiring about the condition of her hand was a plausible excuse. However, since he couldn’t trust himself to face her with the memory of last night’s interlude fresh in his mind, he went to the last place he’d seen her—the Chinese Room. He knew she wouldn’t come here again of her own volition.
But no sooner had he entered the darkened chamber than he heard the provocative whisper of silk. His heart pounded in anticipation. Had his unworldly governess sought him out to make sense of last night’s passions?
He waited until he heard the door close before he turned—only to see Elora crossing the room with a grimace. “What an appalling room. I know chinoiserie was the fashion when your father built this house, but, eh, James, what excess. A pagoda. I’m embarrassed on your behalf. Who would ever sit on that couch? It looks for all the world like a courtesan’s bed. Whatever are you doing here?”