Thorne barely reacted in time. As it was, her expulsion covered his and Quince’s once shiny boots. He stood, gaping at the absurdity of what had just occurred. Of course, Lorelei returned at that exact moment.
“My lord, I insist you cease tormenting that girl this instant. Whatever her past sins, surely Miss Elvins is in no condition for your query.” She stepped aside for the housekeeper, who was carrying a tray of steaming tea and sandwiches. “Mrs. Metzger, set the tray on the desk. I fear we will need your help further.” She pointed to the floor where he and Quince still stood rooted. “Perhaps we should send for Bethie.”
He’d lost this round. Exasperated, he said, “Just toss me a towel.”
The morning room was quickly set to rights, and despite the lump on Miss Elvins’s head, she appeared well on her way to recovery after having devoured most of the sandwiches and half a pot of tea.
Thorne opened his mouth to question the girl, but Lorelei quelled him with a dark look. He crossed his arms over his chest and curtailed his frustration.
Lorelei lowered herself next to the chit, arranging her skirts. She smiled at the girl. “Miss Elvins, we were under the impression you were on the stage back to London. You can imagine our surprise when Quince carried you in.”
A blush colored the chit’s face as she turned adoring eyes on Quince. It was all Thorne could do to keep from snorting his disbelief. “How old are you?” he demanded. Lorelei glared at him. “Please,” he added.
“Sixteen, my lord.”
Thorne glanced at Quince, who appeared quite faint.
Lorelei took her hand. “Can you tell us what happened, dear?”
She glanced at Lorelei then dropped her gaze. “I-I don’t remember, my lady.” The redness in her cheeks heightened.
Thorne scrutinized her intently. “Tell me, Miss Elvins, who accosted you in the woods? I would see justice on Kimpton lands.” She pulled her hand from Lorelei’s, and her fingers curled into tight fists, showing her knuckles white.
“I-I don’t remember, my lord.” Fat tears rolled down her cheeks.
She was lying. Thorne knew it with every instinct he possessed.
“Thorne,” Lorelei whispered.
He ignored her. He covered Lorelei’s hand with his and squeezed. “Lady Kimpton will see to your comfort, Miss Elvins.”
A startled breath escaped his wife. “Yes. Yes, that is so, Miss Elvins. Peg will look after the Maudsley girls the next few days. You should be one hundred percent after a few days,” Lorelei assured her.
Thorne squeezed her hand again. Good. He did not relish Miss Elvins tending the younger girls, no matter how innocent she might appear. He stood, bringing Lorelei up with him. As luck would have it, Mrs. Metzger’s homely face appeared around the door.
“Miss Elvins’s room is ready,” she said.
He let go of Lorelei’s hand somewhat reluctantly and stood back. Lorelei assisted the girl to her feet, and Mrs. Metzger bustled forward to help her from the room. “Quince, perhaps we should check for other signs of intruders.”
Quince nodded and made a quick exit.
After all the excitement, Thorne felt a little awkward in the sudden silence. He let out a breath and pulled Lorelei into his arms, determined not to lose what little ground he’d gained. “Let’s get some rest, darling.”
“But—”
“But nothing. I need you in my bed now,” he whispered against her neck. He covered her mouth, effectively swallowing any further protests.
Sixteen
T
he next week settled into a routine of sorts for Lorelei. Keeping Cecilia and Irene busy was a full-time occupation. Ginny would be horrified to learn that her very proper girls were pulling weeds in the garden, but Lorelei had to do something to entertain two young and energetic beings. Of course, Irene was all that was dignified. But at the end of day, the girls laughed during a thorough cleaning from head to toe.
Lorelei settled back with her needlepoint. Her sitting room was cozy with a blazing fire roaring in the grate. Irene sat in the chair across from Lorelei, and Cecilia lay on her stomach on the floor, flipping through a large book filled with flowers. Lorelei managed to convince Corinne to join them, and she was ensconced on the settee, staring blankly out the window at a cold slashing rain.
Cecilia’s thumb popped from her mouth. “Might Mrs. Wells bring in the babe?”
Irene glanced up. “Oh, yes. Mightn’t she?”
