Lizzy’s mouth fell open. “They’d come through my windows? Through me?”
Guilt stabbed at Evie. It was possible Lizzy knew nothing of the scheme, though unlikely, as a matchmaking ruse was something Lizzy would find very irresistible.
“Of course not. He’s overreacting, that’s all. Didn’t you say Lord Thurston wouldn’t allow for any harm to come to us?”
“To you,” Lizzy corrected and earned herself a hard glare from Evie. “Yes, all right, to any of us. Am I to sleep on the floor, then, miss?”
“Don’t be silly. There are a dozen other beds in the house. What of your old room next to Kate’s?”
“I couldn’t.” Lizzy shuddered dramatically. “Those rooms are enormous. I’d be too nervous to sleep with Lady Kate gone.”
Evie wanted to laugh. Kate’s nocturnal composing had been the very reason Lizzy had recently chosen to take up residence in the room next door. It was difficult to sleep when your mistress left candles burning half the night, hummed to herself, and had a tendency to trip over furniture.
Laughter, unfortunately, was not an appropriate response under the current circumstances. She wasn’t supposed to be amused, she reminded herself. She was supposed to be frightened. Terribly frightened—and terribly brave about it.
“Sleep here, then. The bed is large enough for the both of us.”
Lizzy didn’t need a second invitation. She tossed her bundle on a chair and scrambled onto the four-poster. “Thank you, miss. I’ll sleep a world better with someone else in the room.”
As Lizzy had a tendency to snore, Evie doubted she could say the same.
She wasn’t given the chance to complain. A soft knock on the door to the hall heralded the arrival of Mrs. Summers, wearing a frilly night rail and frillier cap.
Evie blinked at her, absolutely baffled. “Mrs. Summers?”
“Good evening, Evie.” She swept past her to the bed. “Wiggle aside a bit, Lizzy dear. I prefer the outside.”
Evie gaped at her. “The out—”
“Mr. McAlistair has taken up residence in Lizzy’s quarters, has he not?” Mrs. Summers sent her a questioning glance as she removed her wrap.
“Well, yes, but—”
“Then I insist on taking up residence here. Threat or not, you have a reputation to consider.” And with that pronouncement, she slipped under the covers next to Lizzy.
Evie threw up her hands. “I can’t see how anyone else would know. We haven’t any visitors who are likely to betray a confidence, and the staff would never gossip.”
“Most of the staff, certainly,” Mrs. Summers agreed as she adjusted a pillow to her liking. “But your aunt informs me you have several relatively new maids and grooms on hand.”
As Lizzy had pointed out earlier, the most recent additions to the household had arrived more than seven months ago, but it hardly seemed worth the energy to argue. Besides, it would probably be best to drop the topic of McAlistair’s presence in the next room before Lizzy let slip that he hadn’t been in there alone. Given her current company, the slip wouldn’t ruin her, but it would certainly elicit a very lengthy, and therefore very tiresome, lecture from Mrs. Summers.
“Well, push over then, Lizzy. I don’t care for the middle, either.”
“And I do?” Lizzy grumbled, but nonetheless shifted to the center of the bed.
Absolutely the cheekiest maid in England. “You’re welcome to sleep elsewhere,” Evie reminded her and climbed under the covers.
Lizzy sniffed once. “The middle will be fine.”
Sleep hadn’t been McAlistair’s reason for undressing. He had no intention of closing his eyes for anything more than a light doze. Comfort had been foremost on his mind when he’d begun stripping off his clothes. One of the many benefits of being a hermit had been the freedom to wear what he liked, and stiff waistcoats and even stiffer shirts were decidedly not among the list of things he liked.
He eyed the feather bed dubiously. Also on the list of things he disliked was sleeping indoors. He preferred the soft whisper of the wind through the leaves over the murmur of voices to lull him to sleep. He certainly preferred listening for the crunch of sticks and underbrush rather than the subtle creak of floorboards to tell him someone was approaching. And he was definitely more comfortable in the open woodland than with the limited options afforded by a room with only two exits.
As a hermit, he’d often slept in the old cabin in the Haldon woods, but being the lone occupant of a one-room shelter was considerably different from being one of many residents in an enormous manor. Everywhere he turned here, there were more people, more rooms, and more walls. There seemed an endless number of barriers between him and the woods.
Even now, when he had a larger home of his own, he took a blanket outside at night and made his bed under the stars whenever the weather allowed.