"Ooh, sir," she said, "it is a pleasure to serve a gentleman like you."
"One kiss," he said, and set his lips lingeringly to hers.
Lester was grinning at him and Ernie looking wistful when he raised his head. And Bridget, carrying a large tray loaded with dishes, was blushing scarlet again as she turned to the stairs.
"I could come upstairs with you now, sir, I am sure, it being not busy in here today on account of the weather," the barmaid said.
The marquess flicked her chin with one careless finger. "You are a good girl, my dear," he said.
"I would not wish to corrupt innocence."
A little more than an hour later they were on their way at last, Lord Crensford and Lester in the curricule as on the day before, the Marquess of Kenwood astride his horse. The road was still soft and throwing up a considerable amount of dirt, but it was no longer slippery.
Lord Kenwood looked up to the window that he knew to be the lady's before he turned his horse's head out of the small stableyard. She was, as he had expected, standing there looking down, doubtless relieved to see that he was on his way. As he equally expected, she ducked back out of sight as soon as he raised his head.
But he touched his hat with his whip and grinned up at the window anyway. If he knew anything about women, she had removed herself only far enough so that she could look out without herself being seen.
He rode away from her with the deepest regret.
* * *
Diana had been standing at the window most of the morning, drumming her fingers on the windowsill.
It was clear to her sight as soon as she first woke up that the road was in no fit state for immediate travel. She willed the clouds to move off the face of the sun so that the drying might begin and travelbepossible that day.
For as long as travel was impossible, for as long as that gentleman remained a guest at the inn, she must remain a prisoner in this room.A fine state of affairs for Mrs. Diana Ingram, who for the past year had prided herself on her maturity and independence.
But really she could not possibly risk coming face-to-face with him. She wouldthe ofmortification. Just die! She squirmed when she remembered. And how could she not remember with every single second that ticked past? A fantasy lover, indeed! How could he have been fantasy? He had done things to her that she had never even dreamed of. Things she would have burned with embarrassment over if her imagination had ever touched upon them. And she had enjoyed every moment with wanton abandon.
What utter humiliation!
There was only one small consolation.Very small.She would never see the man again. Indeed, she might not recognize him even if she did meet him again, or he her. She had actually seen him only when he had poked his head in at the carriage door, and he had been dripping and muddy at the time. He had seen her only when her bonnet was askew. Besides, he had been more interested in looking at her legs.
No, they would not know each other again even if they passed each other on the street.
She did not even know his name, or he hers.
But how could he not be a fantasy lover? How could any real man's body be so perfect? And how could a real man know so unerringly where and how to touch her? Perhaps he was ugly and squinted, she thought. Perhaps his ears stuck out.But no.Muddy as he had been the afternoon before, her main impression at the time had been that he was an extraordinarily handsome man.
Diana wished for a moment that Teddy had been a man to use oaths. She would have liked to borrow one for the occasion. Bother!shethought, but the word brought no relief to her feelings.
What a farce the night had been. How an audience would have screeched with appreciative mirth if they could have seen it acted out upon a stage. She had leapt out of bed, naked—she had never been naked in any man's presence before. She could have died. And when she had acted from instinct and snatched up the bedclothes—oh, gracious heaven! And why had she also pulled back the heavy curtains from the window?
She had been quite shocked by his nakedness. She had never seen Teddy even without his shirt. And this man had not only been naked; he had been . . . Oh, dear! She must not think of it.
She had collapsed in Bridget's arms for a full minute before pulling herself together and straightening up. "Bridget, whatever has happened to you?" she had asked, her mind registering the fact that her maid too was shaking.
"That nasty man!"Bridget had said after a few moments of incoherent blubbering. "Accused me of stealing, he did.Me, mum.Stealing! I don't know what he thought I was doing asleep in his bed if I was so intent on stealing all the valuables in the room. I would havebrokehis head with the water jug, I would, if I could have got my hands on it.Me a thief!"
"Who accused you of stealing?" Diana had asked, bewildered."Whose bed?"
The whole story had come out at great length. Bridget, it seemed had been so flustered by the handsome gentleman's talking to her as they both climbed the stairs to bed that she had mistaken the room and gone into his.
"Did you ever hear tell of an inn with no locks on the doors, mum?" she had asked accusingly.
She had groped her way to the truckle bed so as not to disturb her sleeping mistress, and for the same reason had not rummaged looking around for her nightgown. She had just slipped off her dress instead. And then just after she had dropped asleep, the barmaid had fallen across her bed— "swearing something awful, mum. I would have liked to wash her mouth out with soap"—and been very abusive when she had discovered Bridget. Bridget, thinking the girl had come to rob, had given her a length of her tongue—delivered in a whisper. But when she had realized that the girl was looking for the handsome gentleman, she had told her he was in the next room.
