“I’m ever so sorry, miss,” Maggie said, her voice wavering with misery.
“We’ve tried and tried,” Sally said. “But we just can’t get the stains out of the gown you were wearing when you rescued his lordship.”
If she were still working at the academy, Ashley would dye the yellow gown to a tan or brown until the stains became invisible. But she didn’t have to exercise such strict economies. At least not yet. “Take it with you this afternoon. If you can get anything for it at the linen draper’s, put the funds toward buying Maggie a change of uniform. If not, do with it as you please.”
“Yes, miss.”
“What about his lordship’s mud-stained trousers?” Maggie was practically in tears. “And the bloodstains on his waistcoat.” She lifted up a corner of the garment in question. “Such beautiful embroidery, and it’s ruined. All on account of me.”
“I’m sure he has others. We’ll simply let Gilroy know to send over replacements for these items as well.” She gripped Maggie’s shoulders and made sure the young woman was looking at her when she spoke again. “I am confident his lordship does not regret ruining his clothes in order to defend you.”
Tears welled in Maggie’s eyes, and she sniffed. “Thank you, miss.”
“Now help me get changed, please. Aunt wants me to visit the shops on Bond Street with her before her at-home later today.”
* * *
Ashley sat on the sofa in the front parlour, struggling to keep her eyes open and her attention on possibly the most deadly dull conversation she’d ever heard: decorations for bonnets. Aunt Eunice and her friends had very strong opinions as to the attractiveness of feathers versus wax fruit, while Lady Donkin waxed poetic about silk roses. Ashley’s head pounded less and she was finally feeling hungry. Perhaps eating one of the little cakes would help her be more alert.
From the corner of her eye, she saw Sally in the parlour doorway, making a tiny but frantic gesture to catch her attention.
“Excuse me,” Ashley murmured as she left the room.
“Beg pardon, miss, you’ve got to come upstairs,” Sally urgently whispered. “We can’t get him to be quiet!”
Had Ravencroft injured himself again? Ripped out his stitches and was writhing in agony?
Ashley gathered her skirts, dashed up the stairs, and hurried down the hall. Long before she reached her room, she heard Ravencroft’s deep rumbling voice.
Singing.
Maggie stood just outside the closed door, twisting her apron in her hands.
“You two keep an eye out. Distract anyone who might come near.”
“Yes, miss,” Maggie and Sally replied in unison.
Ashley entered her room and quietly shut the door behind her.
Ravencroft was sitting up in bed, freshly shaved, his hair combed, moving his arm as though conducting an orchestra, his eyes closed. No, the gesture was smaller, as though writing in the air with his finger, his deep voice making sounds as if he played an instrument rather than singing actual words. “Dum da dum, bum da da dum.”
She rushed to the bed. “David, you have to be quiet,” she pleaded.
He began singing another stanza, finger still writing in the air, his eyes closed as though he could read what he’d written.
She sat on the edge of the bed and grabbed his moving hand, trying not to panic. “Your voice carries. They can hear you out in the hall!”
“Oh, good. An aud’ence.” His words seemed slurred as he began singing again, making the same sounds as if he played the viola da gamba.
“You have to be quiet,now! You have to—” She let go his hand to cup his cheeks and kissed him.
That shut him up.
After a stunned moment, she pulled back. Her lips tingled. She let her hands slowly fall from grasping his face, tracing down his neck, over the bump of his Adam’s apple, and caress his bare chest. He wasn’t usually awake when she touched him. It gave her an unaccustomed sense of power to see his eyes widen and his pupils flare. Because of her.
He sat perfectly still, his lips slightly parted, staring at her.
When he drew breath to speak, she leaned forward and dropped another kiss on his mouth. She had wondered what it would be like to kiss him, to touch that full lower lip, the perfect cupid’s bow on top, with her lips and not just her finger.
