They rushed over to her. “Is he badly hurt, Mama?” Helen asked.
My dears!” Mama held out her arms and embraced them. “A broken limb they think. The doctor was with him when this letter was sent with your grandfather’s carriage. The coachman is walking the horses. Eloise is packing a portmanteau. I must leave in a minute. Helen!” She held up a hand as Helen began to speak. “No, you cannot come. You are to remain here to chaperone your sister.”
Chapter Fifteen
Helen listened to Diana’s deep breathing. She had been asleep for over an hour, and it seemed safe to leave the bed. Earlier, while Helen was watched by her sister and their maid, Mary, she’d been forced to disrobe and don her nightgown. In the dark, Peyton wouldn’t notice. She couldn’t light a candle but was able to locate her dressing gown and slippers where she’d left them. Stealthily leaving the room, she hurriedly pulled them on, dislodging her nightcap in the process.
The candles were guttering in the wall sockets as she went to the stairway, her hair unraveling from the braid. Would he be waiting? At the bottom, she shivered. She rubbed her arms, unsure if it was the possibility of catching the thief or spending the night with Peyton that caused it. It would be better to send him away. But somehow, she doubted Peyton would obey her so easily.
The quiet kitchen lay in darkness with only the scuffle of cats on their nightly hunt. Something twined around her legs almost tripping her up and sending her heart into a gallop. “Quiet, Plato,” she whispered at the cat’s familiar greeting.
She slid the bolts back on the door, and a rush of chilly air blew her hair back from her face. Clutching her gown closer, aware that she wore little beneath it, she peered up at the inky blackness. Suddenly, a dark shape loomed into the doorway. Her heart in her mouth, she gave an involuntary squeak.
“Shush.You must have known it would be me.” An iron-grip on her arm moved her aside as Peyton slipped inside.
“You might have been the thief.” Indignant, she closed the door behind him, discarding any idea of deterring him. It would be a waste of her breath, which seemed to be in short supply.
“I’ve had a word with the watchman. He hasn’t seen anyone, but the fellow seems to be too fond of rum by the smell of him.”
“That’s comforting.” She was struggling to come to terms with receiving him in her nightclothes in the kitchen.
“It’s too early for the thief. They would wait to be sure the whole household was asleep.”
He sounded annoyingly pragmatic. “If he’s a smart thief,” she murmured, unwilling to let him have the last word as she led him up the stairs.
“He has been pretty clever up until now. And who’s to say he isn’t already in the house?”
She stopped so suddenly that he cannoned into her from behind.
When she gave a startled gasp, hands rested for a moment on her hips in her thin robe, causing her to stiffen. “You aren’t going to panic are you, Lady Helen? I thought you were made of sterner stuff.”
“And so I am, my lord,” she said in a prickly tone, far too aware of his overly familiar gestures and big body close behind her.
“Are you sure the butler has gone to bed?”
“Yes. Fiske retired at eleven. Jeremy is in the front hall. He’s good at dozing while remaining upright in his chair. I’ve caught him at it before.”
“Then let’s hope he does so tonight.”
She opened the door to the library. With the deep burgundy velvet curtains pulled across the windows, the spacious room was black as pitch. Helen stumbled forward in what she guessed was the direction of the desk. “I shall have to light a candle until we are settled.”
A hot flush rushed up her neck and spread across her face at the idea of settling somewhere in here for the night with this large ex-army man who was quite possibly a spy.
The cloak of darkness had its advantages. Men easily succumbed to their desires with a little encouragement. The worst of them needed none. And here she was in her nightclothes. How on earth did she get herself into this?
“No candles. I brought a rush light.”
A tinder was struck, and a small glow lit up the room with a wisp of smoke. The Egyptian sarcophagus in the corner of the room took on a decidedly eerie appearance. Helen had considered hiding inside it but now shuddered at the prospect of entering that dark space where a mummy once rested.
“Where can we hide?” She distracted herself by gazing around the dimly lit room. “Behind the sofa?”
“We can both fit in the coffin,” Peyton observed in an exasperatingly calm tone.
“Don’t be ridiculous!” She fought to keep her voice from rising to a hysterical pitch. “I am not getting in there with you.”
“We’ll leave the door open a crack.”
“That isn’t the problem.”
