The conversation went no further, interrupted by a sharp rap on the door. Ian released Dillie’s hands and pushed back his chair. He strode across the room and opened it. Mr. Gwynne stood in the doorway. “Beg pardon, Yer Grace, but the coachman’s askin’ for Miss Dillie.”
“Abner?” Dillie called from behind him. He heard the shift of her covers and knew she was already climbing out of bed. Her feet must have hit the floor, for she let out a soft cry.
“Your ankle must hurt like blazes,” he muttered, returning to her side. He grabbed one of the blankets off the bed and wrapped it around her body for modesty’s sake. “Duchesses don’t walk around inns in bare feet and skimpy nightshirts.” He scooped her into his arms.
Abner’s quarters were located across the hall from theirs. Theirs! They weren’t married yet, and he was already thinking of them as a couple, of her as a necessary part of his existence. Lord, it felt odd. Good. But odd. He set her down on the stool beside Abner’s bed. “I’ll give you a moment alone.” He expected that Abner wanted to know for certain whether Dillie was all right, for although the old man was in a laudanum-induced languor and hopefully feeling no pain, he considered Dillie his responsibility and would not rest until certain she was on the mend.
At some point, Abner would realize that he and Dillie had shared the neighboring quarters, shared everything that could be shared between a man and a woman. By then he’d also know that Dillie would marry him.
He left them, but made certain to keep the door slightly ajar in order to hear her when she called out to him, for he didn’t want her hopping about needlessly. He remained close by, returning to their chamber and leaving that door open as his thoughts turned to obtaining the special license. He would procure it as soon as the weather cleared, for he wanted a quick, simple ceremony without fuss or bother. However, if Dillie wanted a fancy wedding, he would not deprive her of it.
As for him, he was a man. He couldn’t care less about the celebration, only the girl. The sooner Dillie shared his bed, the better.
The sooner he introduced her to Felicity, the better. He wanted Dillie to meet his young niece, spend time with her to make certain she was not being neglected, for he knew nothing about raising children and didn’t trust himself to know the difference.
He strode across the chamber to open the shutters and peer out the window. The surrounding trees were coated in a thin layer of ice, their leaves glistening against the meager light. It seemed as though the entire countryside had been turned into a forest of ice. A thing of shimmering beauty, yet treacherous. Rain and snow were still falling in a sleety mix, but a little lighter now. He doubted the storm was ending, perhaps just a lull, for the distant clouds were a bleak, dark gray. A thick layer of snow covered the icy cobblestone courtyard and the stable’s thatched roof. He watched the fat, wet snowflakes as they fell, and lost himself in his thoughts.
He wasn’t certain how long he stood beside the window watching the storm rage outside, but for the first time since his brother’s death, he felt the violent storm that had always raged within his heart begin to ease. Healing would not come easy, he knew that much. But he would have Dillie to help soothe the ache over time.
He sighed, realizing that he hadn’t told her about his nightmares. She would find out soon enough, and most certainly choose to sleep apart from him during their marriage. Few married couples ever shared a marriage bed. He understood and would accept it. Just not yet. He wanted Dillie in his arms tonight.
“Yer Grace,” he heard someone call out softly from behind him.
He turned, confused as he heard his door shut quietly. The pretty maid who’d warmed his bed a time or two now stood alone with him in the chamber. Door closed. Hell. “Elsie, you shouldn’t be in here.”
“But Yer Grace, I’m ever yer obliging servant.” She tossed him a seductive smile and began to unlace the ties at the front of her gown. “I’m at yer call should ye need... anything.”
He strode to her, frowning as he turned her around and opened the door to boot her out. “Who sent you up here? I’m not in need of your services.” He put a hand on each of her shoulders to give her a gentle nudge down the hall when she appeared reluctant to obey.
And then he noticed that Abner’s door was wide open.
Dillie was standing beside it.
Staring at his hands on Elsie’s shoulders. Staring at Elsie’s unlaced ties.
Damn.
She looked as though he’d just shot her through the heart.
***
Dillie felt her entire body go numb. She couldn’t move, not even to turn away from Ian because at this moment, she wanted him out of her sight.