Of course, his ire was not with her but with himself. With the ugly things he had seen and experienced, horrors and hardships he could not get out of his mind. She was the town’s angel of light—sometimes an annoyingly persistent angel, but he found her quite delightful even when she was being irritating.
That he could tolerate her was a good thing, he supposed.
There was no question she needed to stay at Langford Hall these next few days, something he would have found intolerable had he not found her company so pleasant.
In truth, he liked being around her more than was wise.
This troubled him, for he would miss her when the moment came for her to leave. She would return to the vicarage. Not so far away.
Still, notherewithhim.
Mrs. Fitch bustled in with their meal, bringing an end to their private conversation and his wayward thoughts.
Ailis insisted on getting out of bed to dine while seated at the small table. He often took his meals alone in his bedchamber, but having her company felt nice.
“You cannot sit here in nothing but your chemise and shawl,” Mrs. Fitch insisted, and turned to him. “She needs a proper covering.”
“All right,” Jonas muttered, allowing his housekeeper to assist Ailis into one of his woolen robes that was much too big for her. She was drowning in it.
He did not see the point of all the fuss when she could not place her injured arm into the sleeve because her shoulder dislocation was too fresh and best left untouched to nestle in the sling.
The end result of properly dressing Ailis was a mess, an utterly adorable mess that had him silently laughing and had his heart in a roil.
Gad, she was delicious.
Ailis’s hair was unbound and loose curls fluttered about her pixie ears. She had on a pair of borrowed woolen stockings that were too big for her small feet and would trip her if he did not keep hold of her.
The sleeve of his robe had to be rolled up and clipped in place to hold it firm. Atop the robe, she had wrapped the woolen shawl that also had to be held in place with one of her hair clips.
The garments were a clash of colors—red stockings, and he had no idea who had chosen this garish color or where Mrs. Fitch had ever found them stored. Black wool robe, under which lay hidden Ailis’s white chemise and sinfully luscious body.
Atop the robe, she had a plaid shawl in light earth tones. The robe dragged along the carpet as he helped her into her chair.
One would think she had just scaled the Alps for all the pride she showed in her accomplishment in getting out of bed and walking across the room.
Ailis was an utter fashion mess.
And Jonas had never beheld a more fetching sight.
Ah, this vicar’s niece could be a danger to his heart if he weren’t careful.
He took the seat across from hers, but dismissed Mrs. Fitch when she offered to serve them. “I’ll take care of myself and Miss Temple. Go about your duties, but send one of the maids up here to chaperone the naughty Miss Temple.”
Ailis choked on the tea he had just poured for her and laughed. “Naughty? Me?”
He grinned. “All right. Perhaps I have it backward. It is possible I am the naughty devil from whom you need to be protected. Leave the door open, Mrs. Fitch.”
“Of course, Your Grace.” The housekeeper nodded and bustled out, leaving him once again alone with Ailis.
He should not have been left alone with her even for these few minutes, but where was the harm? Circumstances had already placed her in a compromising position. The mere fact of her spending the night in his home was enough to set tongues wagging.
If word ever got out she had spent it in his bedchamber… Dear heaven, what had he beenthinking?
His staff could have managed caring for her in any of the guest bedchambers. Knowing Ailis, she would have liked staring at butterflies and flowers on the East Room’s papered walls.
But no. He’d had to put her inhisbed.
Fortunately, his household staff consisted of reliable, longtime retainers who had been in service to his family for generations and could be trusted to keep their mouths shut.
