He returned to the inn then and found Althea still huddled in the cloak sipping her ale. He returned to his seat to note that Althea was shivering. He reached over and touched her hand. She yanked it back.
Preston made no comment on her action. “Your skin is like ice.”
“It is cold outside.”
“I’ll need to get you warmed up soon, so you don’t become ill.”
Althea averted her eyes and her cheeks turned pink. He meant to order her a hot bath but there were certainly other, more enjoyable ways, to warm a body. But the fact that she jerked back from his touch meant they needed to address what happened first.
“Althea,” he began in a low tone. “About this morning.”
Her eyes shot up to him, wide with fear. “Please, no, not here.”
He glanced around. The room was full to overflowing and it was probably best this discussion took place in private.
Mrs. Hemsley placed steaming bowls of soup in front of them and a loaf of bread. “I am sorry, this is all we can do for now. I wasn’t expecting so many customers and there is little food left in the kitchen.”
“It is quite all right, Mrs. Hemsley. A hearty bowl of soup is the best meal a man can have on a day like today.”
She beamed.
The door of the inn opened again, and a young couple entered.
“Oh, dear,” she remarked. “I hope they don’t need rooms. We are plum out.”
“Give them mine, if you wish.” Preston pulled out the key to his room. “I’ll share.”
Mrs. Hemsley snaked an eye to Althea and arched her brow. “We don’t. . . “
Did everyone think the worst of him? “With my coachman.”
The woman at least had the good sense to blush at her improper, almost accusation. Of course, Mrs. Hemsley had the right of it. With any luck, he would not be sleeping with his coachman this night.
Althea clutched the package from Monique, not accepting Melcombe’s arm, as he escorted her up the stairs and to the room that she’d have for the night. Once she stood on the threshold, he started as if he wished to say something.
“We need to discuss…that is…I wish to…”
She knew he wanted to discuss this morning, but she could not. At least not yet. Perhaps in a decade or two.
“Thank you for the dinner and seeing me to my room.” With that, she shut the door and turned the lock. Althea then let out a sigh. She couldn’t run from the situation for long, but she hoped to avoid the discussion until tomorrow at least. Hopefully, the memories would have dimmed by then and she would be better prepared for what was to come.
The conversation could end in so many ways and Althea was not prepared for any of the outcomes. It would be so much easier to run away again, but she needed to face the consequences like a responsible adult.
She turned and leaned back against the door. Oh, why had he come into the village after her? It would have been so much easier to sneak away, send for her things, if necessary, than look into his blue eyes again. Except, she also knew that wasn’t an option. No more running. She’d decided that while speaking with Monique, but the urge to do so was so strong because Althea was certain that by the end of their discussion her heart would be shattered, and she wished to put it off for as long as necessary.
Althea shivered and pulled away from the door. Despite the ale, and the hot, filling soup, she was still cold. It was as if the dampness of the snow had invaded her bones and she wasn’t certain she would ever be warm again.
After placing the package on the bed, she unwrapped the paper. Inside was a gown of the softest linen and a woolen wrap. Though it would not be the warmest clothing in her possession, at least it was the driest.
A small fire burned behind the grate, and she added additional kindling, willing the room to warm.
At the knock on her door, Althea stiffened. Was Melcombe back? Why couldn’t the man understand she did not wish to discuss what had occurred between them? Did he not comprehend the humiliation that engulfed her?
Clearly, he needed to hear a more direct response.
Althea marched across the room and yanked open the door and was brought up short. Maids with buckets of steaming water and two footmen, holding a hip bath stood just beyond the door.
“Lord Melcombe ordered a bath for you, miss. Might we come in?”
