Or perhaps he was as tired and done in as she felt.
Finally, Mr Chambers and the maid left, and Oliver turned back to face her.
“I told them you were feeling unwell,” he said. “Mrs Chambers has a tray of food waiting for you.”
She shook her head, the room spinning a little. She was sotired. All her life, it seemed, she had been tired. “I’m not hungry.”
“You haven’t eaten for hours.”
“I have eaten more today than I ever have before in a single day.” That might not be true, but it was close enough. “I just want to rest.”
“Then rest, but come closer to the fire.” Without reaching for her, he beckoned her closer, until her fingers burned from the heat. “You must be frozen.”
She didn’t have the energy to explain that she rarely built up the fire to this extent at home, or that they rarely lit a fire in the bedroom. Instead, she allowed him to guide her down to the truckle bed. Her fingers curled in on themselves. She didn’t even have her anger at him any longer.
“I spoke to Mr Chambers,” he said. “The nearest posting house is ten miles away. I must have taken a wrong turn in the blizzard. Fortunately, the snow appears to have stopped. Tomorrow, I’ll ride out with Mr Chambers and assess the damage done to my coach.” He winced. “Mybrother’scoach. He won’t forgive me easily.”
“Your brother’s? I assumed it was your own.”
“No, I took it when I left him last. He has others, though, don’t worry.” He slanted her a long look, as though waiting for her to pass judgement. But she simply didn’t have the emotion in her anymore. “We had an argument, and I left angry.”
“What did you argue about?”
“His expectations for me. Among other things.”
“Other things such as your inheritance?”
“His wife has an independent fortune—it belonged to her late husband—and she is the one bestowing the inheritance on me. I only receive it once I marry, and while my brother wished me to wait, for various reasons I had rather the happy event occur sooner than later.”
Of course he would; what man did not want a fortune?
“And so you stole your brother’s carriage and seduced my sister.”
“I stole my brother’s carriage and crashed it,” he said. “Not my finest moment, I’ll agree—you have not seen me at my best, Miss Brunton. But I did not seduce your sister.”
Small mercies, she supposed. If she could trust his word—and she found she did, oddly enough.
“And as proof of my honour, what little of it remains, I will do my best to return you home as soon as the snow stops. Hopefully that will absolve me in your eyes, if not my brother’s.”
“Perhaps,” she said. “If you are successful in your attempt. How are the horses?”
“One has lost a shoe and another has a sprained hock, but they seem to have escaped remarkably unscathed, according to Mr Chambers. I’ll take a look at them in the morning.” He gave her a sharp-eyed glance, as though seeing through her lacklustre conversation to the exhaustion that lay underneath. “Oh, and Mrs Chambers provided some bedclothes for you.”
Emily touched her head and winced. How could they ever repay this family? “How generous of her. If you could—pleasetell Mrs Chambers I have no need for dinner. I would rather just sleep.”
“Of course.” He rose, the colour somewhat restored to her cheeks. “I’ll knock before coming back in, I assure you.”
To her surprise, she believed him, and although they were set to share a room, she had no fear that he would take advantage of her in the night. In part because doing so would be harder with a broken arm, and in part because he had shown her surprising consideration over the past few hours. “Thank you.”
After he left the room, she undressed quickly and clambered into the nightclothes, freshly laundered and rough to the touch. With Oliver having placed all his nightclothes and other things on the truckle bed—no doubt by design—she gave in and took the other. The pillow was cool against her cheek.
As she closed her eyes, she wondered what things would look like when she finally did return home. Whether Isabella would ever forgive her, or if their lives would be irrevocably changed.
Chapter Nine
WhenOliverawokethenext morning, his entire body felt as though someone had run him over with a horse. While his arm most certainly hurt the most, the truckle bed—or, perhaps, being thrown from his carriage—had done untold damage to his back. That was what he got for trying to be the gentleman in the situation.
And yet, more fool him, he would do it again.
