She startled.
She had expected to find Leith next to her.
He had been so tender and open with her.
He had told her, she remembered, with a jolt, that he loved her.
His words had surprised her.
Shocked her, really.
She wasn’t even sure that she believed him.
It occurred to her that they could just be the words of a man overcome by erotic sensation.She did not want to invest too much meaning into what, for him, may just be bedsport.
And now he had vanished.
Waking alone in a cold bed did not exactly support taking his declaration seriously.
And did she evenwantto take his declaration seriously?
She wasn’t sure.
She cared deeply for the man—she knew that.
And it gratified her to think that she could inspire such strong feelings in him.
But she wasn’t even sure if she could trust him.He was still the man who was paying her to be his mistress.Men like him discarded women like her, after declarations of love, every day.
The door to the chamber opened and Leith came through it.He was dressed already and looked remarkably crisp—as he always did—for a man who was used to being attended by his valet.
“Preston and Charles are readying the carriage.I know you will want to make haste.”
“Yes,” she said, ashamed to admit to herself that his declaration had chased the drama of Mr.Gordstone from her mind.That was very bad indeed.“Of course.”
“The serving maid will be bringing up breakfast as soon as it is made.You must eat before our journey.It will be a long day in the coach if we are to reach Somerset the day after tomorrow.”
“Thank you,” she said.“It is very kind of you to see to everything.”
He shook his head.“It is nothing.Nothing that I am not happy to do, anyway.”
She saw, for just a moment, a plain flash of vulnerability on his face.
Then a knock sounded on the door.He turned and opened it.A cheerful-looking serving maid bustled in with a tray, which Leith took from her with one hand and pressed a coin on her with another.
He passed her the tray and seated himself on the bed beside her.
Beatrice felt, unaccountably, shy, so she focused on her chocolate.
“I know that you have many cares weighing on your mind,” he said, softly.“But I did want to address what I said last night.”
She found, still, that she could not look at him.
“Do not worry, Thomas.I take the words that a man utters when he is about to come with their proper weight.”
“I am not sure that you do.Beatrice, look at me.”
She could not ignore such a command.She raised her eyes.
