“Even so, I’m sorry you were put into that situation in the first place. It makes me very glad my own parents don’t care one fig if I marry.”
“They may care if you don’t return home all night,” Ashton countered, with a glance to the clock on his mantel. “It’s getting late.”
“I doubt they’ll notice that either,” she replied with a laugh. But he looked at her oddly, as if she’d said something wrong. “What’s the matter?”
Ashton seemed to struggle for a moment, then said, “Nothing. It’s not my place.”
“I don’t mean that they don’t care about me,” Della added quickly, guessing the source of his concern. “They’re very kind.”
He looked her square in the eye as he spoke. “If I had a daughter—or a son for that matter—I would make it my business to know if they were safe.”
“But I’m perfectly safe here. Would you rather they locked me up in a tower, and I never had the chance to sneak into your bed?”
He raised his hands in surrender. “That’s why I told you it wasn’t my place. I can hardly criticize whenI’mthe person they should be protecting you from.”
“Nonsense,” Della said heartily. “They trust me to make my own decisions, and I think I’ve made an excellent decision in coming here.”
She rose to her feet and kissed Lord Ashton to underscore her point. “I regret nothing, and neither should you.”
At that moment, heavy footfalls sounded on the stairs outside.
I may have spoken too soon.
“Are they on their way up here?” Della asked, worry creeping into her voice.
“Shh!” Ashton looked frantic. He motioned for her to hide in the bedroom (she took the last half of her sandwich with her; she wasnotdealing with whatever this was on an empty stomach), before he slipped out the door. A pair of masculine voices filled the hall a moment later, though Della couldn’t make out their words. Whoever it was, he was definitely nearby.Oh, goodness.
How was she to get back home?
Sixteen
“You’re back early.” Lyman was trying for a nonchalant tone, but feared he hadn’t managed it. He cleared his throat and tried again. “Is something the matter?”
James Wood stood before him, still in his hat and coat. Lyman, in contrast, wore only his trousers and shirt. This was a marked departure from his usual attire, as he never ventured into the common areas where Mrs. Hirsch or the other lodgers might see him unless he was fully dressed. Wood’s expression signaled that he’d noticed.
“Not at all. Clarkson said he would finish up the work that was left,” he explained, still eyeing Lyman suspiciously. “Is everything all right?”
“Of course. I was just working on my book. Are you, er, back for the evening, then?”Please say no.Wood might take an early supper at the public house down the road or have an errand to run. Anything to take him away long enough for Della to slip back out.
“I suppose so.” Wood looked him over. “Why?”
Blast my luck.
“I was just making conversation,” Lyman replied coolly. “I’d best get back to my work.”
“Did you move that table?” Wood craned his neck to look into the dining room just as Lyman was about to walk away. He crossed through the doorway to inspect things more closely. “And what happened to the other chair?”
“I borrowed it,” Lyman replied, thinking quickly. “The one at my desk has a loose leg.”
Wood frowned at this. “Of course I don’t mind, but I wonder if Mrs. Hirsch might object to you taking things from the common space and rearranging the furniture…”
There were four chairs at the dining table and only three lodgers. The man was insufferable.
“I’ll be sure to put it back just as soon as I’ve had mine repaired.” Lyman spoke through gritted teeth. “Good day.”
He hurried back into his rooms, careful not to open the door beyond the absolute minimum required to get himself inside. Della had concealed herself in the bedroom, but peered around the doorframe at his entrance. He brought a finger to his lips to signal silence until he came close enough to whisper in her ear. “One of the other lodgers is back early. Whatever you do, don’t make a sound.”
Her dark eyes grew round at this. She stood on tiptoes to reach his ear and whisper back, “How do we get out?”
