The Duke I'm Going to Marry(86)

In truth, it seemed important that she work the problem out by herself. She wondered what Lily would do, and decided to start by making a list in her mind of Ian’s strengths and weaknesses. It was a logical and methodical approach. Very much like Lily.

If only she were more like her twin!

“Right, let’s start.” She decided to count Ian’s strengths on her hands and his weaknesses on her toes. First, Ian protected her and made her feel safe. A definite strength. She stuck her thumb up.

Second, he was clever and she enjoyed his company. He’d rescued her from the ardent attentions of Charles Ealing and been a gentleman about it. More strengths. She held out two more fingers.

He’d tried to protect her from Lady Withnall. He’d been by her side after Lily had been abducted, offering his quiet assurance and using his considerable resources to help find the culprits. She’d been terrified that she would lose her twin. He’d taken charge and kept up her spirits. She loved him for that alone.

Yes, she loved him.

There was more. She’d used up the fingers on one hand to count all his wonderful attributes and was about to start on the other, but it was shaking. In truth, both hands were shaking. She was a fool. She didn’t need to count. What Ian had done for her and her family after Lily had been abducted was worth at least a thousand points in his favor.

Had she been wrong to doubt him?

She shook off her concern and pressed on. Those horrid rumors circulating about Ian had also been false. He wasn’t a murderer. He didn’t kill his brother, even though he insisted on blaming on himself. His family had heightened his anguish with their heartless disdain and vicious lies. Yet he’d borne their cruelty and hurtful insults with noble grace.

And the night he’d been attacked outside the Farthingale townhouse, he’d—

Crumpets! She was an idiot.

She shot out of her chair and hobbled to the bed to grab one of the blankets. Ugh. She really needed to find some decent clothes. She started to wrap the blanket around her body and then changed her mind. More people were milling about downstairs. She could hear their voices carrying up the stairs. Either the storm was letting up—though it didn’t seem so—or the locals had grown tired of waiting for the wintery mix of snow and icy rain to let up and had braved the forces of nature for the sake of a pint of ale.

No matter the reason, the inn was filling up. She slipped off Ian’s shirt and donned her gown and stockings. They were torn and stained, but at least dry. She tucked her good foot into one of her boots. Hilda had taken them yesterday to be cleaned, and they now appeared to be in passably good condition. She didn’t bother with the other boot, for her foot was so swollen she doubted more than her big toe would fit inside.

She wrapped her now-dry cloak about her shoulders, grabbed one of the larger fireside irons to use as a cane to steady herself, and left her chamber. A quick peek in Abner’s room showed that the old man was alone and sleeping comfortably. She hopped along the hall, trying to make her way downstairs without falling down the flight of stairs that now appeared as daunting as a cliff wall.

No doubt Ian was sitting alone with a large tankard of ale in front of him. She firmed her resolve, knowing she was about to make a spectacle of herself. The sound of laughter and conversation emanated from the common room, an indication that the inn was now bustling. She took several deep breaths, ready to face the patrons who would be gawking at her while she limped in on a foot that was too swollen to allow her to wear proper shoes.

As she neared the bottom landing, she heard two women conversing in quiet but insistent tones. “Elsie, are ye mad? Ye could have been sacked for that little stunt. Be grateful that His Grace didn’t report the matter to Mr. Gwynne.”

“How was I to know, Hilda? He’s asked for me before,” the younger of the two replied. Her sniffles and quavering voice revealed she had been crying. “But he wants nothing to do with me now. He was angry and steered me out of the room.”

“Ye should have realized that he wasn’t interested when he asked Mr. Gwynne to keep ye working downstairs. But ye didn’t care. Ye purposely tried to cause trouble between ’im and Miss Farthingale.”

“So what if I did? She’s just a passing fancy for him.”

Hilda seemed to grow angry. “Ye’re a fool if ye think so. She’s the girl he’ll be marrying and he said those exact words to me and Mrs. Gwynne before he left to scout the accident site this morning. And he meant ’em. No more mischief, I’m warnin’ ye. Keep out of his way or I’ll toss ye out into that storm m’self. I’ll be watchin’ ye closely, Elsie. Ye’d better behave.”