Silvestre’s unexpectedly intelligent gaze raked his face. “And you, my lord? You will allow her to do as she chooses?”
A wholly unwanted rush of protest threw him back to his cynical tone and he raised his quizzing-glass, looking through it at her face. “I cannot imagine why you should suppose otherwise, ma’am. I have neither control nor authority over the lady.”
Silvestre looked baffled. “Oh. But you escorted her, did you not?”
“I could scarcely do less.” He dropped the glass. “For the rest, I am depending upon my cousin’s good offices.”
“And so you may,” came in Angelica’s robust tones. She had left the girl seated with Henrietta. “We have settled it she will stay here tonight, since the servants are all awake and it will not cause so much of a stir as it would at home. I shall come over in the morning to fetch her to my house, where you may wait upon us in the afternoon, Raoul.”
This disposition of his time annoyed him, but he could scarcely refuse. He would be little better than Maskery if he rejected Miss Temple’s call upon his chivalry at this point. Not that she had made any such call. Indeed, she had made efforts not to involve him at every stage. He entered only one caveat. “Is Miss Temple suited with these arrangements?”
“Of course she is.” Angelica lowered her voice. “To tell you the truth, I think she would be suited with anything that rescued her from such a hideous situation. She is in shock, poor girl, and who shall blame her?”
Not Raoul, that was certain. He was in fact already of the opinion this was only the beginning of the shocks in store. He too dropped his voice, glancing at Silvestre. “You do realise she has nothing but the clothes she stands up in? You can furnish her with what she needs for tonight?”
The Latimer girl threw a sympathetic look towards the sofa and also spoke in a murmur. “You need have no apprehension, Lord Lynchmere. We will do all we can to make her comfortable.”
The small voice in the back of his mind tempted him to say it was no concern of his, but he swept it away. “Excellent. Then I leave her in your hands with a clear conscience.” He moved towards the sofa, raising his voice. “Miss Temple!”
She looked up, her eyes narrowed a little as if she found it difficult to hold the lids open. In the stronger light, her freckles emphasised her pale skin. She looked exhausted. And altogether vulnerable. A twinge of something other than mere compassion attacked Raoul. He acted on instinct, leaning down to capture one of the gloved hands lying loosely in her lap. It quivered briefly in his hold and lay still.
“You are not alone.” He smiled. “I won you, remember. I pledged my twenty guineas and I make it a rule to extract value for money.”
The freckles danced as a trickle of laughter escaped and an echo of her customary animation entered her face. “I did not do my part, did I?”
“Decidedly not. But you may make up for it presently. Try to sleep. Things always look better in the daylight.”
With which, he executed a bow and walked away with swift steps, wondering if he had taken leave of his senses.
Felicity’s head throbbed. She sat up in the truckle bed, dutifully swallowing down the warm milk brought up by a maid, and tried not to mind the fussing and chatter of the Latimer twins. She would much have preferred to be left alone to brood, but she could not repudiate their kindness. At least she had held out against taking up one of the places in the big four-poster the girls shared.
“But are you sure, Miss Temple?” This from Henrietta, a gentle creature who appeared to be a female of rather too much sensibility. “I can sleep anywhere, and I do think you ought to be comfortable tonight.”
Felicity refrained from retorting the impossibility of finding any comfort in her present predicament. “I could not possibly incommode you further. The truckle bed will suit me very well.”
The more commanding Silvestre, who was shaking out a fresh cotton nightgown, tutted at her sister. “Hetty, you can’t expect her to wish to sleep beside a stranger.” She held out the garment. “I hope this will do, Miss Temple.”
Having already shed her evening gown and under-petticoats at Henrietta’s urging, Felicity was only too glad to take it, removing her shift and throwing on the voluminous nightgown instead. She emerged to find Henrietta presenting her with a hairbrush.
“Pray make use of this, Miss Temple. Oh, and I must fetch a shawl to you.”
She fussed as she hunted in a large dresser, while Silvestre threw a quilt over the made-up makeshift bed. “You will be cold in the night without curtains.”
“Thank you, but I’m used to a simple cot.” Felicity sat down on the truckle bed and began to brush through her loosened hair. “We don’t run to grand beds at the academy. One becomes inured to the cold.”
Silvestre’s eyes registered distress. “Gracious, is it so indeed? I am ashamed to think I have been bemoaning our need to retrench. At least we will not be reduced to having to seek employment.”
Before Felicity had a chance to make any suitable response, Henrietta came to lay a warm Paisley shawl about her shoulders. “Well, you shan’t be cold in this house, Miss Temple.”
Sudden irritation seized her. “I wish you will call me Felicity. It seems ridiculous to be so formal under the circumstances. Besides, you make me feel as if I’m back at the academy with the girls — Miss Temple this and Miss Temple that all day long!”
Both girls instantly emphasised the impression by dissolving into giggles, which made them seem at once much younger and a great deal easier to like. Felicity’s inner despair lightened. She smiled at the two of them, seated side by side on the big bed.
“Now you sound just like a pair of schoolgirls. How old are you?”
“We are eighteen,” said Silvestre, sobering. “We came out last year and if only either one of us had become betrothed then, we should not be such a charge on poor Papa.”
“Yes, indeed,” chimed in her sister. “He does not say so, of course, and if he had only told us at Christmas, we would have foregone coming to town at all.”
