Chapter Fourteen
Rosina sought for the bottle. She had seen this often enough at Nun Eaton, and could judge of the level of Raith’s inebriation. She found a bottle tucked on the floor by one leg of the chair. It was a quarter full. Rosina sniffed the contents. Not brandy, thank heaven. Then he was probably not more than semi-drunk. She would likely be able to get him to bed.
Any thought of discovering his intentions had gone out of her head. All was forgotten but for his present plight. Her maid’s words came back to her. If this was how he had been spending each night, small wonder Kirkham was worried.
She placed her candlestick alongside his own on the mantel, and leaned down, taking hold of his shoulder, and shaking him. “Raith! Anton, wake up!”
She was obliged to call him several more times before any response was forthcoming. But at length he stirred, opening bleary eyes and gazing up at her in apparent recognition.
“Rosy? What are you...?”
He blinked, and Rosina shook him again. “Raith, you must get up! Come, I will help you to bed.”
The wickedest gleam came into his eyes, and he grinned up at her. “That, wife, is decidedly inviting.”
A tinge of colour crept into Rosina’s cheek. His speech was only slightly slurred, but she was quite aware it was the wine speaking. He would not otherwise have greeted her in this fashion. Doubtless he thought her a figment of his overheated imagination.
“Come, Anton.” She pulled at his arm.
“Give me a moment. I will certainly come.”
He sat up with an air of determination, but it was only with Rosina’s help that he was able to get to his feet. She snuffed his candle, and then slipped her shoulder under his.
“Lean on me.”
“Too close for comfort,” he muttered. Before she knew what he would be at, he had turned her head to him and planted a quick kiss on her lips.
Rosina’s balance gave slightly, and they both staggered. Raith was laughing, and she was obliged to speak sharply to pull him into awareness. “For goodness’ sake, take care!”
“Don’t s-s-scold, wife. I am doing my best.”
“No, you are not, Raith. Stand still a moment.”
He obediently halted, swaying a trifle. Rosina shifted her position in order to take a little more of his weight, and then reached to the mantel for her candle.
“A very juggling act, Rosy.” Amusement was in his voice.
“Do you think you can remain on your feet?”
A chuckle emanated from him. “I won’t fall down.”
“Are you sure? Shall I wake Paulersbury?”
His hand came up to cover the one Rosina had placed at his waist. “I had much rather have you. Paulersbury is not nearly s-s-so pretty.”
Rosina was betrayed into a giggle. “Anton, will you have done?”
“I am yours to command. Lead on.”
It was with difficulty that the two of them negotiated the passage, and at the stairs, Rosina had to withdraw her support. “I cannot manage with the candle as well. Take the banisters, Anton.”
He grasped them, and she slipped out from under his shoulder. She urged him onward, but Raith did not speak as he dragged himself up the stairs. He was beginning to sober, and the delight of this adventure was slipping away from him. He was not yet capable of working out why Rosina had come to find him. Nor why she should be thus amicable. A hazy idea of the depression of spirit that had driven him to seek solace in wine floated at the back of his mind, but its portent escaped him. He knew only that Rosina’s presence was heart-warming. He did not wish to lose that.
She was keeping close behind him as he climbed the stairs. Afraid he might lose balance and fall? His heart warmed to this solicitude. At the top, she slipped quickly back into her previous position. He slipped his arm about her, holding her to him, rather than taking her support. Raith felt her tremble and his thoughts became chaotic as they entered his bedchamber in silence.
He dropped to the bed, mesmerised by her face as he stared up at her. He watched her set the candle down and pull the covers open. Then she came back to him, and her hands reached to push the bed gown over his shoulders.
Raith caught at her fingers. She stilled, and her gaze returned to his face, an expression in her eyes that he could not read. He was past caution.
