As she jerked her hand away, his indigo gaze remained locked on her. Tension gripped the room. Her heartbeat measured out the seconds, his silence amplifying her anxious arousal.
“How did you intend to spot the burglar without your spectacles?” he asked.
Drat, again! Did the man have to be devilishly attractiveandobservant?
Her gaze shot to the escritoire, where she’d left her spectacles. Since her vision was perfect, she hadn’t thought to wear them on her excursion to the forbidden room.
“I, um, only need them for reading.”
As explanations went, she could have done worse.
“In the future,” he said in ominous tones, “kindly refrain from risking your damned neck. If it were a burglar, I would expect you to lock yourself in your room and call for help. What do you think would have happened if you confronted a criminal? He would take one look at you and…”
He gestured at her, trailing off.
The unexpected flare of heat in his gaze shredded her composure. He was looking at her as if he were seeing her for the first time…and, she realized with a burst of nerves, perhaps he was. Without her spectacles, bulky frock, and face paint, she was far too exposed. At least her hair was still dyed.
Do not panic. Keep playing the part of Jane Wood.
“All’s well that ends well,” she said quickly. “I apologize again for disturbing your evening, my lord. Now, if you don’t mind, I have an early day ahead.”
He looked as if he might say something—argue with her, probably—but instead he regarded her for a long moment. She swallowed, feeling her knees wobble under the weight of his scrutiny.
With a slight shake of his head, he headed to the door. There, he paused, his hand on the knob.
“Keep your door locked,” he said shortly. “The bats.”
“Yes, sir.”
After he left, she secured the door. Flopping onto the bed, she rolled over and buried her face in the pillow. She prayed that things would improve on the morrow.
At least they can’t get any worse…can they?
ChapterSix
The next morning, Ethan set down his fork and looked at his hovering butler. “I don’t suppose you had a hand in preparing this?”
Brunswick shook his head. “I cannot say that I did, my lord.”
Ethan thought as much. With grim disbelief, he reviewed the contents of his breakfast plate. He poked at the eggs with his fork, and they pushed back with rubbery resilience. The sausages were burnt to a crisp on the outside, yet the insides were raw and pink. The toast, at least, held no surprises, being blackened through and through. As for the buns, the good news was that, if he were ever in need of doorstops, he now had a bountiful supply.
Good God, could the troublesome Mrs. Wood do nothing right?
First the bats, now this.
“She said she could cook,” he said grimly.
Brunswick cleared his throat. “Did she say she could cook well?”
“That was implied.” Ethan turned a hard stare upon his butler. “Get her in here.”
“Are you certain that is wise, my lord? After all, it is Mrs. Wood’s first attempt?—”
“Are you defending her?” he asked in disbelief.
The old retainer’s face turned ruddy. Bloody hell, heoughtto feel embarrassed for acting like some knight errant. While Mrs. Wood lacked any detectable talent for housekeeping, she must have a hidden supply of charm if she’d won over Brunswick, who was a known curmudgeon.
With prickling unease, Ethan recalled his own reaction to her last night. Her spectacles had concealed more than he’d realized. Without them, he’d had his first good look at her, discovering to his shock that she was rather…pretty. More than rather. Her doe-like eyes were a warm, beguiling brown. They dominated her heart-shaped face, which also boasted a pert nose and cute little chin. She looked younger than twenty-seven, and her worn nightgown had clung to her nubile curves and perky nipples?—
