He shook off his reaction to the man and executed a polite nod. “I beg your pardon, my lord. The Duchess of Sedgewick is my passenger, and as you can see, we were surprised by the weather. I wonder if she might take refuge at your home for the night?”
The man in the doorway’s gaze fluttered over Oliver in a slow, heavy glance that made every muscle in Oliver’s body tighten with tension. Not unpleasant tension, more like awareness. Then he inclined his head.
“Of course,” he said. “I would never allow Her Grace…or you…to freeze. Please, let my servants tend to your animals and carriage.”
Oliver nodded. He was so cold and so tired from fighting the weather for hours, he could hardly think straight. The idea that someone else would take care of his duties was heavenly. “I will fetch Her Grace, then,” he said. “Thank you, my lord.”
The gentleman shook his head. “Pembroke,” he said. “My grandfather is an earl, but I am no one’s lord.”
Oliver somehow doubted that was true, but he didn’t argue and instead turned back toward the carriage. He drew a long breath before he opened the door and peered inside.
The Duchess of Sedgewick…Anna, beautiful Anna…was cuddled beneath a thick blanket in the corner of the rig. She looked at him with concern.
“Oh, Oliver,” she said. “You look cold as ice.”
“I’m fine,” he lied. “Only sorry that my poor planning put us in such a situation. But we’ve arrived at the home of a Mr. Pembroke and the gentleman is willing to allow us to stop here for the night.”
She shifted and he could see she was uncomfortable. Of course she would be. The man at the door was a stranger, for one. And the trip Anna was making was difficult as it was. Drawing it out likely only made it more so.
But she didn’t say any of that. Instead she leaned forward and touched Oliver’s gloved hand with her own. Thick layers of fabric separated them, but he still had to fight not to respond to that touch. “You did so very well. Thank you for taking care of me and getting me here safely.”
He swallowed past a suddenly thick throat before he croaked out, “Come. Let me escort you over the ice to the house.”
She nodded, though her blue eyes never left his. Her hand took his more firmly and she leaned on him as she carefully exited the carriage. The softness of her against his body put him on edge, despite the tenuousness of the situation. But then, he’d always been susceptible to all the ways she made him feel. He couldn’t control that, even if he controlled everything else.
He got her to the top of the steps at last and she looked up toward their savior. Mr. Pembroke stared down at her, his piercing blue stare sweeping over her from the crown of her head to the tips of her boots and there was a moment where awareness crackled between them. Anna straightened up a little, tilting her head to examine at him more carefully.
And Oliver was both enthralled by the instant attraction that so clearly bound them as well as jealous. Jealous that she wanted this man, that he wanted her in return. That if they chose, they could be free to do something about it. And all Oliver had were memories.
“Mr…” she began.
“Pembroke, Your Grace,” he said. “Ezra Pembroke.”
“Pembroke,” she repeated softly. “Why does that seem so familiar?”
“My grandfather is the Earl of Barrowfield,” Pembroke said. “I assume we shared a ballroom or two before I left good Society several years ago.”
She nodded. “Yes, I do recognize the earl’s name.” Oliver heard the slight tension in her voice. “Well, I do appreciate your kindness, Mr. Pembroke.”
“Please come in out of the cold, both of you. My servants are already taking your things inside and will tend to the horses as you settle in.” He stepped aside and let Anna pass, then Oliver. Oliver couldn’t help but note how Pembroke’s gaze followed her with obvious interest.
His jaw tightened. The last thing he wanted was to leave Anna with a man who was no better than the one she was heading to see in the first place.
“You must be exhausted after your long day,” Pembroke said. “Shall I show you to your chamber first so you may have a moment to yourself before supper?”
Anna glanced back at Oliver, her dark eyes snagging his and holding there. She seemed nervous. Not afraid, but uncertain. He moved forward. “Would you like me to join you, Your Grace? To help you settle anything?”
She nodded. “Yes, Oliver, that would be appreciated.”
Pembroke turned that bright blue gaze on Oliver with what could only be perceived as interest. Oliver was being read, it seemed, and he was too exhausted not to be an open book. Not that it mattered.
“Whatever pleases you, Your Grace,” Pembroke said gently. “Please follow me.”
He led them both up a long staircase and then down a brightly lit hallway. A door there was already open, and they stepped in to reveal a lovely room with a cozy fire already burning. Anna almost sagged with relief. “It’s very nice, Mr. Pembroke. You really are too kind.”
The gentleman inclined his head. “Are there other servants I should send to you?”
She glanced again at Oliver, like she was seeking out his steadiness. He tried to provide it by smiling gently at her. She drew a shaky breath. “No. It is only Oliver and me.”
