“If I needed help undressing, you may be sure I would have had the foresight to find a pretty young thing to see to the job.”
It felt odd enough, having another man pick out his clothes as if he were a child or an incompetent fool. Under no circumstances, outside of complete physical incapacitation, was he going to let said man undress him as well. In truth, he’d just as soon take care of the whole business on his own, but a gentleman of his station was expected to retain the services of a valet. Besides, he was quite fond of Stidham.
“I’m sure there are a host of pretty young things in the house who would be all too eager to oblige you,” Stidham said with a straight face. “Shall I fetch one for you?”
“Generous of you, but I’ll pass for to night.”
“Very good. If you have no need of me then, I’ll wish you a good night.”
“Good ni…Stidham?”
“My lord?”
“You’ve been here with me at Haldon for some years now.”
“I have.”
“What…” He hesitated, wondered if there might be a way to form the question without making a complete ass of himself. And came to the conclusion that there really wasn’t. “What color are the imp’s eyes?”
“Miss Browning?” If Stidham was surprised, or amused, by the inquiry, he was too dignified to show it. “I believe they’re a very dark brown, my lord.”
“Very dark brown,” he repeated. “Would that be another way of saying chocolate?”
“I suppose it would.”
In the small hours of the morning, while the rest of the house slept, a man and a woman stood in the darkest corner of the library and spoke in hurried whispers.
“Is this it, then?” the man asked, reaching for the small box wrapped in brown paper that the woman held.
“It is.” She drew her hand back, out of his reach. “I’ll have your word this won’t come back to haunt my family.”
“I’d like to give it,” he said gently. “I’d like nothing more, but it’ll be for Whit to decide what’s done.”
She nodded once and pressed the package into his hand.
“You’ve great faith in the boy,” he murmured.
“When one has trust and respect, faith becomes irrelevant.”
“Then it is to be hoped our trust is not misplaced.”
Seven
Mirabelle hadn’t enough personal experience with over-imbibing to fully appreciate her good fortune in waking the next morning feeling whole and hale, but she could appreciate fine health on a warm spring day in a general sort of way. She was a trifle muzzy perhaps, but that was easily countered with a cup of hot chocolate and some fresh air.
She avoided the guests in the breakfast room, preferring to take her cup from the kitchen to a small bench in the garden. There wasn’t anyone presently up and about she cared to speak with, at any rate. Kate, Evie, and Sophie were all still in bed. The first two by choice, and the last, no doubt, by virtue of having an overprotective husband. It would be an hour yet, maybe two, before any of them emerged from their rooms.
As she had tiptoed past the breakfast room, she had heard Lady Thurston’s soft voice mingling with the guests’, along with Whit’s deeper one, but she wasn’t ready yet to face either of them.
To make pleasant conversation with a man she’d spent more than half her life dreading the very sight of…
No…no, that wasn’t quite right.
She sipped at her hot chocolate, contemplative. She’d never dreaded the sight of Whit. Not once, that she could recall, had she been unhappy to see him. It seems she had always been unhappy with him—annoyed, irritated, angry, furious and…and pleased, she realized with a start.
She’d always been at least a little bit pleased to be annoyed, irritated, angry, or furious.
She set her cup down on her knee with a small thump, failing even to notice when some of the liquid splashed over the rim onto her dress.
Good Lord, what was the matter with her? What sort of person enjoyed being aggravated—and aggravating?
She gave that a great deal of thought and decided that it was the very same sort of person as Whit.
She wasn’t solely to blame for their continuing rivalry, after all, and she certainly wasn’t the only one to gain pleasure from it. He had initiated their disagreements as often as she, and she could recall, quite vividly, more than one occasion in which he’d clearly been having a grand time of it while they went at each other with slights and barbs.
She blew out a short breath and rubbed a hand on her thigh.