Unprecedented.
Likely, it had been the grim meeting with Stone, coupled with the lateness of the hour and the pain in her head, that had persuaded her. Roland had presented her with the ultimatum that she must either pack up her sleeping daughter and return to his townhome once more, or that he would remain. She had chosen to allow him to remain.
And so, he had sent Meacham home, found a counterpane and a pillow, and spent the next few hours of fitful slumber on the unforgiving floor of Pippa’s chamber. He woke what seemed every few minutes to check upon her, finding her peacefully slumbering. He paced the halls. Checked with the footmen he had brought from his townhome, who were standing guard and aiding with the paltry number of domestics Pippa had on retainer.
After George’s death, she had explained, she had seen no need for the extravagant number of servants he had employed. The home had been so empty, she had said, with a wistful tone in her voice that made him long to bring George Shaw back from the grave and plant him a facer.
Or two.
But Roland was not a violent man, and nor was he gifted with otherworldly powers. So he must settle upon helping Pippa instead. And that meant making her his wife. Somewhere, during the interminable hours of the darkness, the realization had settled into his marrow. When he had made the suggestion to her previously, it had been offhand. Of course, he would have married her. He had wished to years ago. No other had supplanted her in his affections since then.
But now, it was different.
There was far too much at risk.
He could not afford to risk her denying him.
He rose to his feet, stretching some more. His propensity for physical activity was a boon on occasions such as these. He knew how to move his body precisely so he could work out the knots and strains.
But as he stretched low, a cry rent the air.
He nearly toppled forward in his alarm. Instead, he caught himself and rose to his full height, half expecting to discover Pippa being attacked in her bed. Instead, he found her staring at him, wide-eyed, clutching the bedclothes to her bosom.
“Northwich?”
“Who else?” he asked grimly. “There is no impostor that I am aware of.”
“What are you doing in my chamber?” she demanded, her voice shrill.
Damnation.Perhaps the blow to the head had addled her mind more than he had initially believed.
“I slept here,” he told her calmly. “Do you not recall?”
“You slept here,” she repeated, some of the color returning to her cheeks, replacing the pallor.
“On the floor.” He gestured to the makeshift pallet he had fashioned, after the servants had dispersed.
“You are indecent.”
Roland glanced down and recalled for the first time that he had shed his shirt and slept only in his smalls. Ordinarily, it was his custom to sleep in the nude. He could not abide by too many layers constricting him as he tried to sleep. This had been a concession, albeit one he had intended to correct before she woke. His need to stretch and work out the knots in his back, however, had preceded his attempt to gratify her modesty.
“Damn,” he muttered, before taking up the shirt and stuffing his arms into the sleeves. “Forgive me. I cannot sleep in layers.”
As it was, he had scarcely slept at all.
“Why are you in my chamber?” she asked, her voice raspy with sleep, yet tinged with irritation.
“Because I wished to be certain you were safe,” he said pointedly, sliding buttons into their moorings. “Do you not remember anything that transpired last night?”
Her brow furrowed as she raised a hand to tentatively touch the back of her head, where the lump had risen to prominence beneath her chestnut hair. “I am beginning to recall now. It is rather indistinct, I am afraid.”
“The knock you took to the head was tremendous.” And he would find the bastards responsible and make them pay if it was the last action he took on this bloody earth.
But he did not say that aloud. Instead, he finished with his shirt and donned his trousers.
“I…suppose I must thank you.”
She sounded so reluctant. As if offering him gratitude caused her pain. He tamped down his irritation.
