He winked at her. “Should we go easy on the little blokes?”
“Lord Trevor, where do you get your language?” she said in exasperation.
“From the streets, ma’am,” he told her, not a bit ruffled. “I feel as though I have been living on them for the past eleven years.”
“That may be something that must change, sir,” she replied.
He laughed and opened the window again. “Too warm for me, Miss Ambrose! You are an educator and a manager? Did one of your ancestors use a lash on those poor Israelites in Egypt?”
“Stuff and nonsense!” She went to the door. “And now I am going to bed.” She stopped, and she frowned. “Except that . . .” Be a little braver, she ordered herself, if you think to be fit company this week for a man ten times braver than you. “I have no intention of sleeping on that servant’s cot in the girls’ chamber, not after the snippy way Lady Janet treated me! She already thinks of me as a servant, and I have no intention of encouraging that tendency. Is the sofa in the book room comfortable, sir?”
“I don’t know. Seems as though we ought to do better for you than a couch in the office, Miss A,” he told her as he joined her at the door.
“Are all dower houses this small?”
“I rather doubt it. Some of my ancestors must have been vastly frugal! What say you brave the sofa tonight, and we’ll see if we can find you a closet under the stairs, or a secret room behind some paneling off the kitchen where the Chase family used to hide Royalists.”
He tagged along while she went downstairs to the linen closet and selected a sheet and blanket. He found a pillow on a shelf. “You could sleep in here,” he told her. “You’re small enough to crawl onto that lower shelf.”
She laughed out loud, then held out her hand to him. “I am going downstairs now. What plans do you have, if Sir Lysander whisks Janet away from this?”
He was still holding her hand. He released it, and handed her the pillow. “I happen to know Lysander’s parents.” They left the linen closet. “He is an only child, and my stars, Miss A, they are careful with him.” He looked toward the ceiling. “Do you happen to know if she mentioned measles in her letter?”
“You can be certain I was not allowed to look at the letter.” They started for the stairs. “Besides, the contagion is in York, and not here.”
He only smiled. “Did I mention they are careful parents? Good night, m’dear.”
The sofa in the book room realized her worst fears, but Cecilia was so tired that she slept anyway. When she finally woke, it was to a bright morning. She sat up, stretched, then went to the window. Lord Trevor had spent his time well in York, she decided. A veritable army of house menders had turned into the family property and were heading in carts toward the manor.
Someone knocked. She put her robe on over her nightgown and opened the door upon Lord Trevor. “Good morning, sir,” she told him.
“It is, isn’t it?” He grinned at her. “Miss A, what a picture you are!”
Her hands went to her hair. “I can never do anything with it in the morning. You are a beast to mention it.”
He stepped back as if she had stabbed him. “Miss A! I was going to tell you how much I like short, curly hair! No lady wears it these days, and more’s the pity.” He winked at her. “Is it hard to drag a comb through such a superabundance of curls?”
“A perfect purgatory,” she assured him. “I used a comb with very wide teeth.” She felt her face go red. Mrs. Dupree would be shocked at this conversation. “Enough about my toilette, sir! What are your plans?”
“I am off to the manor to get the renovation started. Mrs. Grey will accompany me. She has set breakfast, and left one servant, should you need to send a message.”
“And did she locate a plethora of silver begging for polish?”
“Indeed she did! There is more than enough to keep my relatives in cozy proximity with each other.”
“If they choose to be so,” she reminded him. “Sir Lysander . . .”
He put a finger to her lips. “Miss A, trust me there.” He took his hand away, and she watched in unholy glee as his face reddened. “Sorry! And Janet is to apologize.”
“Only if she means it,” Cecilia said softly.
“She will,” he told her, then leaned closer. “I am not her favorite uncle, at the moment, however.” He straightened up. “I’ll be back as soon as I can. Do carry on.”
He left, and she suffered another moment of indecision before straightening her back and mounting the stairs to the room where the girls slept. They were awake and sitting up when she came in the room and pulled back the draperies. She took a deep breath, not wanting to look at Lady Janet and see the scorn in her eyes.