Nothing.
Cautiously, she turned the lock and peered out into the hallway.
No one.
“How does it look?” he asked, his words close to her ear.
Leah jumped slightly, looking to him. Mr. Carnegie was scarcely a foot away. So close, she could see a faint mole to the right of his nose and count his individual eyelashes. So close, she could feel the heat of his body. So close, she would only have to lift onto tiptoe to press her mouth to his.
She blinked.
What had he asked?
“Good.” Was her voice breathless? Shefeltbreathless. “The coast is clear.”
Nodding, he stooped down and hefted Lord Dennis upright once more. His lordship’s eyes fluttered open and closed. Mr. Carnegie adjusted his hold, draping Dennis’s elbow over his own shoulders and wrapping another arm around the man’s waist.
“Thank you again for your kind company, Miss Penn-Leith,” Mr. Carnegie whispered. “We shall remove ourselves, and let you see to your slumber.”
He saluted her with his free hand and then he was gone, slipping out the door with his burden as soundlessly as he had entered it.
But thefeelof Fox Carnegie lingered. A whiff of sandalwood. A sense of adventure in the air.
Sleep was decidedly long in coming.
The next morning, Leah gathered with the other young women to watch the gentlemen play cricket on the south lawn. Lord Dennis scowled in the outfield, wincing into the strong morning light and hopefully regretting his excesses of the previous evening.
Leah, of course, only had eyes for Mr. Carnegie who played bowler. He had a potent arm and threw the ball into the wickets with deadly accuracy, evading the batter and sending the wicketkeeper scrambling more than once. She cheered him on.
After a particularly fine bowl, Mr. Carnegie turned toward the sound of her voice, meeting her gaze for the briefest of moments, a wee secret smile on his lips.
Leah’s poor heart nearly burst from the joy of it. That he noticed her. That perhaps he felt the same connection that she did.
After the match, Leah feigned retying her boot, timing her motions to allow her to fall into step with Mr. Carnegie and two other young men as they left the pitch. Lord Dennis walked ahead of them, Miss Smith and Miss Wells on each arm.
“Ye played well, Mr. Carnegie,” she said, voice shy. “Your bowling arm is strong.”
He turned to her, his smile so bright she instinctively lifted a hand to shield her eyes.
“Thank you, Miss Penn . . .” He trailed off, a frown denting his forehead.
“Leith. Penn-Leith.” She helped him along with a weak laugh, though her spirits tumbled that he hadn’t remembered her name. “It can be a wee bit of a mouthful.”
“Nonsense.” He had the decency to appear abashed. “I didn’t exaggerate when I said I am terrible with names. Please forgive me.”
“There is nothing tae forgive.”
They walked in that companionable silence. His friends strode ahead of them, flirting with the ladies and teasing Lord Dennis about his sore head.
Mr. Carnegie studied Lord Dennis for a moment and then half-leaned toward her, lowering his voice. “I trust all went well after . . .”
Leah nodded, sharing yet another secret look with him. “No harm done.”
His shoulders relaxed.
“That eases my conscience. Dennis should never have—” He broke off abruptly, shaking his head as if to toss off a thought. “His behavior last night was hardly that of a gentleman. He was suitably chastened this morning and properly begged me not to tell tale to his father.”
“The Duke of Westhampton?”
