“You can have the one next door, my lord. It’s not quite as spacious as this one, but it’s well enough and a fire’s been burning there all evening. I keep these rooms ready for any who stop and want a private one, even for a little while.”
Kynaston nodded. “Very well.”
He went into the corridor to inspect the next room, but returned through an adjoining door. “It’ll do. This door locks.” He put the key on Ariana’s side.
“I’m sure I can trust you,” she said, unable to resist some dryness.
“Use the key,” he said, and returned to his room.
Ariana didn’t.
Did he feel any pull of lust? Was it only willpower that kept them apart? If so, shouldn’t she respect that?
Their earlier discussion had deepened a bond, but the bond had only increased her desire. Could she bear to let this opportunity slip by? If they bedded here tonight, how could he not marry her?
Such thinking was wicked, but it seemed wickedness could be intensely appealing, and they had all night before them.
Chapter 19
There was no immediate opportunity to sin.
The parson came to report that he’d given the last rites to Paul Boxstall, even though he was already dead.
Kynaston came through to stand by her side. Reverend Darraclough offered brusque sympathy and assured them both that Ariana’s uncle could be buried in the churchyard.
A sinewy Sir George Quill turned up as both magistrate and coroner, accompanied by his plump wife, who hurried to Ariana. “Such a shocking tragedy, my dear Lady Ariana.” Clearly the lady was thrilled by the small drama, and by the chance to rub shoulders with the aristocracy.
“You’re very kind, ma’am,” Ariana said. “It is a shock indeed, but my uncle and I were not close.” She lowered her voice. “As is clear, he’d been slave to alcoholic beverages from his youth.”
Lady Quill sighed. “So sad. A lesson to all so inclined. Would you like to remove to our house, Lady Ariana? We have a cozy manor house only two miles distant.”
“How very kind,” Ariana said, “but I feel I should stay here. Even though Lord Kynaston is handling the official matters for me.”
“Another relation?” Lady Quill asked, glancing to where Kynaston was discussing details with Sir George.
Ariana remembered then the scene Uncle Paul had created and the awkwardness of her situation. She could only hope Lady Quill hadn’t heard any of the London scandal, but someday she would.
“A cousin,” she said as calmly as possible. “We are connected through Kynaston’s aunt, the Dowager Countess of Cawle. He accompanied me here to deal with a minor matter—most fortunately as it turns out.”
“Indeed. The gentlemen always know what to do in these situations, don’t they?”
Sir George went away with Kynaston to view the corpse. They both soon returned.
“There’ll have to be an inquest, of course,” Sir George said, “but the doctor’s here and says it’s a clear case of liver disease. No sign of anything amiss. We can hold the inquest here tomorrow. Does he have family, my lady? Has he made a will?”
“No, to both, I think. But I’m about to write to my brother, the Earl of Langton, who can make all necessary checks.”
Sir George nodded, clearly satisfied that another man would soon be taking care of everything, and left, taking his somewhat reluctant wife with him.
Ariana was suddenly deeply weary. “What a day,” she said.
“Astonishing.”
“I woke this morning thinking the worst was over and my life had returned to normal.”
He gave her a wry smile. “What is normal?” But he came over then, and sat beside her on the settle, taking her hand. “I would have spared you this if I could.”
“It’s rather that I’ve dragged you into my family’s mess. I hope Uncle Paul’s words earlier won’t create new mayhem.”
