She sighed and stroked his hair. The last thing she wanted was to say good-bye.
So it was probably best if she left before he awoke.
As dawn broke through the window, she quietly gathered her things, dressed as best she could, and slipped from the house, putting this torrid affair behind her.
But she wouldn’t forget him.
She never would.
*
It was surreal walking through the morning fog along the deserted London streets. She deliberately did not look at the street signs around his house, because she did not want to be tempted to try to find him again. But before long, her sense of direction was all turned around.
She knew a flash of panic until she found a street that would lead toward Aunt Elizabeth’s neighborhood. As a girl who had lived most of her life in Cornwall, she had rarely visited the city and had no real comprehension of how large it was.
It was, therefore, midday by the time she found her aunt’s address.
She nearly collapsed with relief.
But when she knocked on the door and it was opened by a starch butler, he merely turned up his nose and snipped, “Deliveries around back,” and promptly closed the door on her.
Tildy stared at the knocker.
She’d never been turned away before. In fact, everyone in her village knew her. It was a unique experience, unique enough that she found it amusing. She must look an utter fright.
Determinedly, she knocked again and when the door opened she pushed inside. She removed her cloak and thrust it at the butler, who looked as though she’d just handed him a dead cat. “Please tell Aunt Elizabeth that Matilda is here.”
The butler blinked. “I beg your pardon?”
She patted him on the waistcoat. “Never beg.”
This unleased a stuttering of Babylonian proportions. “Miss,” he warbled as she took off down the long hall toward a truly mouthwatering smell. “Miss! You cannot… Miss! I say, miss!”
She ignored him. He wasn’t saying anything in the least interesting, but the smell was interesting. Fascinating in fact. Her mouth watered as she pushed into a warm kitchen to find a tray of scones cooling.
It occurred to her that she was famished.
The cook and the cook’s helper gaped at her, and then at the butler, who had followed her in.
“Miss. I say. You cannot march in to this domicile and invade our kitchen,” he squawked.
She offered him her most charming smile. “I’m very hungry. I’ve walked a long way, you see.”
He crossed his arms and surveyed her. “Why?”
“Why?” Tildy blinked. “To see Aunt Elizabeth of course. Is she at home?”
“It’s not yet noon,” he said as though that made any sense.
“And?”
“And Lady Carrington is still abed.”
Tildy’s eyes popped wide. “Still abed? Well, good glory, why?” She’d been up all night and she’d still managed to rise before the sun. “Is she not well?”
“She is perfectly well,” the butler snapped, and then recovered himself as he realized he’d inadvertently divulged privileged information. He turned his stern gaze on the cook and said, “If you would remain here with Cook, I shall inform Lady Carrington of your arrival.” He said it with a slight turn to his nose as though the idea made him slightly ill. And then he had the temerity to whisper to Cook, in something that was hardly a whisper at all, “Keep your eye on the silver.”
Tildy glared at him and he glared back, and then he turned on his heel and quit the room. Once he was gone, she smiled at the cook and sniffed deeply. “Well,” she said. “Something smells wonderful!” And then, she stole a scone.
She was halfway through her second scone when Aunt Elizabeth burst into the kitchen wearing nothing but a silk wrapper. Her hair was a’muss and there were pillow marks on her cheek. She stopped short in the doorway—so much so that the butler, who had been on her heels, bumped into her—and stared at Tildy.
“Oh my God. It is you. Thank God you’re safe.” And then she rushed forward to give Tildy a hug. “We’ve been so worried.”
Tildy blinked and extricated herself from her aunt’s tight grasp. “Why on earth were you worried?” For heaven sake, no one should even know she was gone yet.
“Charles arrived last night, looking for you.” Oh, blast. “He was in quite a dither. He had that fellow with him…” She tapped her lip. “What’s his name?”
“George.”
“Is it George?”
“Yes.” She should know the name of her once-betrothed.
“Well, anyway, he was beside himself. Said you were missing. I don’t know why he thought you would be here of all places.”
Did she not? “I ran away from an unwanted marriage.”
To her shock, her aunt’s eyes widened. “You didn’t!”
“I thought you of all people would understand.”
“Understand?”