“Me too.” Standing against him this close to the fire as he continued to stroke heat back into her body was very relaxing. She didn’t want to move from her spot against his chest. “Do you think it is raining in London?”
“Possibly. Why?”
“I wondered if the rain would keep your aunt and uncle from their opera.”
“I highly doubt that. Uncle Henry is determined, and so it will happen. Besides, he has three females with him, which means they will get their way.”
“You know, I didn’t tell anyone where I was going today. None of the servants know. Well, besides the stable boy.”
He chuckled. “I didn’t tell anyone, either.”
The swishing of Georgia’s skirts announced her presence before she entered the room. “All right, I have your room ready and a roaring fire to warm you two up.”
Broderick kept one arm around Emmie as they followed the widow upstairs to the second floor, and the guest room. Theheat from the fire touched Emmie’s face as she walked inside. She closed her eyes for a brief moment, still enjoying both the warmth and the comfort of being in Broderick’s arms.
When she finally surveyed the room, it surprised her to see it was larger than she had expected. Against the far wall was a huge bed with quilts that had been turned down. The floor had a lovely Oriental carpet lying in the middle. The widow must be wealthier than Emmie first suspected. Even the armoires, drawers, and tables were made of the finest quality.
The cozy room beckoned to Emmie, giving her a confusing sense of being at home in North Devon. Strange she would feel this way, since she hadn’t received that feeling at Mr. and Mrs. Crampton’s house.
Once her mind cleared, something struck her—jolting her out of Broderick’s arms. There was only one bed. Georgia couldn’t possibly think they would share a bed, yet what else would the older woman think? She must assume they were married.
Panic consumed Emmie, and she took another step away from Broderick, looking up at him with wide eyes. When she opened her mouth to rectify the most improper situation, Broderick slid his arm around her once more and squeezed so she couldn’t move. He shook his head as if warning her not to say anything.
“Take off those wet clothes and leave them outside the door.” Georgia didn’t notice Emmie’s dismay. “I had a few extra changes of clothes that my children left behind, and I laid them on the bed for both of you to wear for the night.”
Broderick smiled at the older woman. “Thank you, Georgia. You are an extremely kind woman.”
“Let me know if you need anything else.” Georgia opened the door to step out, but then stopped and looked back. “Are you two hungry? I could put together a light meal for you, if you would like.”
“That would be greatly appreciated,” Broderick answered.
“I shall bring the food up when it’s ready.” She turned and left, closing the door behind her.
Emmie yanked herself away from his side once the door was shut. “Why didn’t you tell her?” she asked. “Now she thinks we are married.”
Broderick shrugged. “I considered our choices. I could have let her know we are not married, and then she would have wondered why we were alone together all day long without a proper chaperone, and I didn’t want her thinking you were anything less than a lady, or she would have turned us out.” He dropped the damp blanket to the floor and began removing his shirt. “Or I could have told her nothing, letting her believe we are married, and she wouldn’t have known otherwise. Now, which choice would you have me make?”
The second he pulled off his shirt, she suddenly forgot their conversation. Once again, she was able to look upon that wonderfully handsome, masculine chest of his. But she couldn’t leisurely ogle as she had done that time by the pond.
“Wh—what are you doing?” she shrieked, while her heart fluttered rapidly.
“I’m taking off my wet clothes and replacing them with the dry ones Georgia set out for me.” Pausing, he looked at her standing in the middle of the room, still shivering in her damp blanket. “I suggest you do the same before you become ill with a fever.”
He was right, but she didn’t think she could undress in front of him. In the back of her mind, she could hear her father’s tirades on those times she didn’t act like the fitting daughter of an earl. She didn’t want him ashamed of her.
Then again, did she really have a choice?
Scanning the room, she looked for any signs of a dressing screen, but there was none. How could she take off her clothes and still be modest about it?
Her gaze moved back to Broderick, and he was wiping his chest dry with one of the many towels Georgia had left for them to use. Maybe Emmie would wait until he was finished and then ask him to leave the room so that she could change.
After drying his hair, Broderick rested the towel over his shoulder and began to undo his breeches. “Unless you want to see the rest of my body, I suggest you turn your head, Emiline.”
Gasping, she quickly spun around and faced the fireplace. Heat filled her body, more stifling than the fire, making her face blaze so hot that she feared she wouldn’t need a towel to dry off now. Nervously, she threaded her fingers through her hair, finishing removing the pins that were left. She heard when Broderick pulled the wet breeches from his body, and when they flopped to the floor. She waited a few seconds more before she heard the material flap in the air as he put on what Georgia had left for him.
“I’m decent now,” he told her.
Slowly, she turned and looked. The long nightshirt he wore looked too small for him. Instead of hitting his calves like nightshirts were supposed to, this one barely covered his knees. He certainly had some muscular legs.
