All of the feeling had seeped from Lillian’s toes and fingers. She only knew her legs were there because they continued to propel her through the snow, albeit at a slower and slower pace. Her face was frozen. Her teeth were chattering. She was as cold as she’d ever been, and it was becoming a struggle not to find somewhere to curl up and take a long, restful nap.
How far had she gone? It was nearly impossible to tell. The snow made every street look the same. For all she knew, shecould be traveling in circles. One thing was absolutely certain: the dice she’d rolled to win an invitation to the Yuletide Ball hadn’t been lucky at all. Unbeknownst to her, the bloody things had been cursed. She never should have picked them up. And shenevershould have gone to Foxhaven House.
“B-b-blue,” she stuttered as she forced one foot in front of the other. “I have to tell M-M-Marjorie that the s-s-shutters are b-b-blue.”
A gust of wind barreled down the lane, kicking up a blinding sheet of white. Wincing, she threw her hands up in front of her face. When the wind subsided, she peeked through her fingers…and found herself squinting at an odd, bobbing sort of light heading straight towards her.
Heaven, she thought almost hysterically.I’m being summoned to heaven and now I can ask Shakespeare how he brought such large audiences to the Globe Theater. Not that the answer will do me any good considering I’ll be dead.
The light came closer. Dimly, she heard the sound of…bells? Yes!Bells. Bells jingling on the harnesses of four horses pulling a massive town coach. The light was a lantern affixed to a pole above the driver’s head.
“S-stop!” she cried, waving her arms madly. “P-please stop!”
The coach veered to the right as the horses slowed, the wheels losing traction on the slippery cobblestones. Before the heavy black vehicle had shuddered to a complete halt, the side door opened and a man jumped out, his face obscured by falling snow.
“LILLIAN!” he shouted, his deep voice slicing through the wind.
“A-Abel?” Not trusting her own eyes, she blinked, then blinked again. When her eyes opened the third time, the Duke of Dorchester was standing over her, already taking off his coat and wrapping it around her trembling body.
“I have you,” he said, and Lillian was too weak to protest when he scooped her into his arms and carried her to his coach as if she weighed no more than a pillow of feather down. He placed her on the seat closest to a small, triangular iron stove stuffed with coals but when she continued to shiver, he pulled her onto his lap, his arms closing around her in a protective embrace. “I have you,” he repeated huskily. “You’re safe now.”
Lashes fanning across the top of her cheeks, Lillian’s head lolled onto his shoulder and within minutes, she was fast asleep.
Chapter Six
A fit ofhigh-pitched giggling stirred Lillian from her slumber. Cracking an eyelid, she found herself face to face with a two little girls, their identical blonde heads pressed together as they stared at her with big, curious green eyes.
“Who are you?” she asked, sitting up on her elbow as she took in her surroundings. She was under a white canopy in a large, four-poster bed. Early morning sunlight, pale and silvery yellow, streamed in through a window framed with pale blue drapes. There was a writing desk, dressing table, and armoire, all in matching mahogany. None of it was familiar. “Where am I?”
“You’re in ourhouse,” said the girl on the right, bouncing up and down.
“Papa brought you home last night. Are you a puppy?” The girl on the left gave Lillian’s forehead an experimental poke. “He promised he’d get us a puppy for Christmas.”
“He didn’t promise, Anne.”
“Yes hedid, Amelia!”
“No he–”
“That’s enough,” Lillian interrupted. Sitting up, she pointed at Anne. “You, keep your grubby little hands to yourself. And you”–her finger moved to Amelia–“go find your father and tell him I am awake. While you’re at it, bring me a pot of tea and something to eat. Well? What are you waiting for? Off you trot.”
She waited until the girls had left the room to glance down… and her cheeks bloomed with color when she saw her gown had been replaced with a white cotton nightdress. Someone–and she had fairly good idea who–had changed her out of her frozen wet clothes before putting her in this bed and tucking her under the covers. Bringing her hands to her cheeks, she found them warmand rosy. She could also feel her toes again, and gave them an extra wiggle for good measure right before the door opened and the Duke of Dorchester entered the chamber.
“Miss Snow,” he said, and she didn’t know whyheshould look so stunned at the sight of her whenshewas the one who had woken in a strange room. “I didn’t expect you up this soon. How are you feeling?”
“Like a proper human being instead of an icicle.” She bit her bottom lip, worrying it between her teeth as more heat wound its way through her body. Summoned not by the pile of blankets on top of her, but by the mountain of a man in front of her. Somehow, even though he was wearing plain tweed trousers and a linen shirt sans necktie or waistcoat, the duke was even more physically striking than he had been last night. In the shadows and the snow, she hadn’t been able to fully appreciate his raw, rugged masculinity. His broad shoulders. Large hands. The dark shadow of whiskers across a strong, defined jawline. He was… well, he was scrumptious. And she was suddenly very,veryhungry. “I suppose I have you to thank for that, Your Grace.”
“Abel.” He removed the chair from under the writing desk and put it beside the bed, but instead of sitting down he stood behind it, his hands wrapped around the top rail. “After last night, I believe it is fitting that you call me Abel.”
She pursed her lips. “Are you referring to our kiss or my timely rescue?”
His face reddened. “Miss Snow–”
“Lillian.” Rather enjoying herself, she drew her knees up under the coverlet. “After last night, I believe it is fitting that you call me Lillian.”
Gripping the chair so tightly that his knuckles gleamed white, he cleared his throat. “I’m just glad that it appears you’ve made a full and swift recovery. Might I ask… what were you doing outside in such dangerous conditions?”
“An earl said that he wished to discuss becoming a benefactor of my theater over tea and Battenberg cake. He failed to mention the tea and cake would be served in his bedchamber.” She made a face, as annoyed with herself and her poor judgment as she was with Lord Clearfield and his ill intentions. “When it became clear what he was really after, I escorted myself out of his carriage.”
