“Oxford is in the public rooms. Apparently, the innkeeper couldn’t hold in his great fortune of the flow of nobility passing through and mentioned we were here.”
“I’m almost too tired to care,” she said. She turned her head and speared him with a slanted glare. What did it say about him that the look did something to his nether regions?“You didn’t mention anything about me, did you?”
“Hmm. Perhaps the news I have to share will wake you up. In fact, I happen to believe it is enough to keep me awake for the rest of the night.” He sauntered over to the hearth near the fire. “I suspect I’ll have trouble sleeping.” Not to mention, being confined in the chamber with Rebecca all night. A whole other issue to deal with.
Again, she peered at him from one eye. “Oh? And what is that?”
“Oxford said that Welton and Huntley were attacked at Vauxhall, and he wasn’t sure which one was the survivor.”
She bolted upright, just as he thought she would, proving she mightn’t be a fairy from the constellations after all.
“How is Serena?” he asked.
“Over the worst of it, I believe.We’ll know more in the morning. Don’t change the topic.” She was frowning. “What is this about Welton and—dear heavens. You think this is what Owen witnessed, don’t you?”
Sebastian grimaced. “The thought crossed my mind. And now we have Oxford and his new bride to contend with. We shall have to be wily to escape their company.”
“Oxford’s married?”
“He married Lady Parther, Lexum’s aunt. How do you not know these things?”
Rebecca rubbed her forehead. “The names escape me. I’ve been out of society for seven years, you know.”
Ryleigh went and stood before her, grasped her still lace-covered hands and tugged her to her feet. He set his chin atop her head, giving him the added advantage of the warmth of her breasts against his chest. “Never mind. We’ll deal with Oxford on the morrow.” He dropped a kiss on her forehead as if it was the most natural progression in the world. “Go. You need rest.”
“Of course. We can’t very well be caught sharing a chamber.”
“No,” he said softly even as shock sparked through him. Perhaps he wouldn’t mind being caught with her. She would have no choice but to marry him then.Where the devil had that thought come from?Regardless, Lady Rebecca Thatcher was unpredictable. She didn’t wish to marry. Had no care for society’s dictates. No care for her own reputation.
It hit him—a bronze mace to the sternum—Rebecca would not fold under those dictates or any dictate. Why should she? If pretending to have bastard children didn’t offend her sensibilities, why should being entangled in a compromising situation affect anything? She was an Amazon of the ancients, a warrior bound and determined to avenge and protect those less fortunate than her.
He shoved a hand through his hair. “Go on. Get some rest. It’s been a long day. You shall take the bed,” he said.
“Of course, I shallnottake the bed, Your Grace.” She pulled away from him and found her bag, ironically, on the bed. She dug through it and pulled out a scrap of fabric of the sheerest lawn that had him swallowing a moan. Next a wrap appeared. “I shall rest with Serena.”
“What if you contract her illness?” he demanded.
“’Tis better than you landing a hoyden. Good night, Your Grace.”
Another one of those damned exits worthy of treading the boards.
~~~
Rebecca fell back against the door, her heart pounding wildly. Surely it thumped like a knock that Sebastian could hear on the other side. She’d been so rattled, she pulled the first item out from her open bag still sitting on the bed in the outer chamber—the most luxurious of her nightwear. She pulled herself together and moved to the chair in the corner next to the window. The chair was an old piece of furniture with worn threadbare cushions. The fabric was so faded the original color was undiscernible. She reached over and placed the back of her hand against Serena’s forehead. Her clammy skin indicated her fever had broken. Her breathing was regulated. The poor dear had had the time of it.
Rebecca dropped in the chair and leaned against the back, clutching her night rail and wrap to her bosom. She didn’t have the energy to change, even had trouble swallowing. How could her jaw be so tired? She hadn’t even yelled at him.
Her thoughts drifted to Sebastian’s meeting with Oxford. Lady Parther, apparently now the Duchess of Oxford, was a renowned gossip. That put her duke—wait, notherduke—Sebastian, no. Not Sebastian.Ryleigh—in an impossible situation, and someone needed to reach Gabby. Her brain was a fogged mess. It felt as if she hadn’t slept in a week.
She stripped off a glove but didn’t have the energy to manage the other one. She rubbed her eyes.
What the devil had Huntley been doing with Welton? Not only was the baron miles beneath the earl, Welton was a known imbécile. That much she remembered from her come-out season. If something had happened to Huntley, that would explain why he hadn’t returned home, but the news would have flooded the London newspapers.Oh, Gabs. What have you gotten yourself into?
She and Sebastian would have to take their chances with Serena and leave on the morrow, weather be damned. The duke could ride alongside the carriage.It was a plan. Plans set one’s mind at ease. Her last thought as she closed her eyes.Just for a moment.
~~~
Sebastian waited thirty minutes. He even went to the lady’s companion door and laid his ear against it. Not a sound emitted. There was no rustling of fabric to indicate Lady Rebecca changing out of the brightly colored frock he pulled from her valise. He paced the outer chamber until his curiosity fairly strangled him. He tapped at the door and waited.
