He cleared his throat. “I imagine you will want a bath?”
Hethoughtshe said, “I imagine I will want those two little wretches on the end of a rope,” but the words came out under her breath, and just because that was what he would have said—well, it didn’t meanshewas as uncharitably inclined.
“I’ll have one drawn for you,” he said quickly.
“Don’t bother. The water from my last bath is still in the tub.”
He winced. His children’s timing couldn’t have been more on the spot. “Nonetheless,” he said hastily, “I shall see that it is warmed with a few fresh buckets.”
He winced again at her glare. Bad choice of words.
“I’ll just see to that now,” he said.
“Yes,” she replied tautly. “Do that.”
He strode down the hall to give the order to a maid, except that the minute he turned the corner, he saw that a half dozen servants were already gaping at them, and had in fact set up a betting pool on how long the twins would last before Phillip tanned their hides.
After sending them on their way with instructions to draw a new bath immediately, he returned to Eloise’s side. He was already dusted with flour, so he saw no harm in taking her hand. “I’m terribly sorry,” he murmured, now trying not to laugh. His immediate reaction had been fury, but now ... well, she did look rather ridiculous.
She glared at him, clearly sensing his change of mood.
He quickly assumed a sober mien. “Perhaps you should return to your room?” he suggested.
“And sit where?” she snapped.
She had a point. She was likely to ruin anything she touched, or at the very least necessitate a thorough cleaning.
“I’ll just keep you company, then,” he said, trying to sound jovial.
She gave him a look that was decidedly unamused.
“Right,” he said, in an attempt to fill the silence with something other than flour. He glanced up over the door, impressed with the twins’ handiwork, despite the unfortunate results. “I wonder how they did it,” he mused.
Her mouth fell open. “Does it matter?”
“Well,” he said, seeing from her face that this was not the most advisable avenue of conversation, but continuing nonetheless with, “I certainly can’t condone their actions, but it was obviously quite cleverly done. I don’t see where they attached the bucket, and—”
“They rested it on the top of the door.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“I have seven brothers and sisters,” she said dismissively. “Do you think I’ve never seen this prank before? They opened the door—just a crack—and then carefully placed the bucket.”
“And you didn’t hear them?”
She glared at him.
“Right,” he said hastily. “You were in the bath.”
“I don’t suppose,” she said in a haughty voice, “that you intend to imply that this was my fault for not having heard them.”
“Of course not,” he said—very quickly. Judging from the murderous look in Miss Bridgerton’s eyes, he was fairly certain that his health and welfare were directly dependent upon the speed with which he agreed with her. “Why don’t I leave you to your ...”
Was there really a good way to describe the process of cleaning several pounds of flour off one’s person?
“Will I see you at supper?” he asked, deciding that a change of subject was most definitely in order.
She nodded, once, briefly. There wasn’t a great deal of warmth in that nod, but Phillip reckoned he should be happy that she wasn’t planning to leave the county that night.
