Page 67 of A Perfect Gentleman

“Abby!” An agitated shout cut through the air, and the next thing she knew, Graeme was kneeling on the floor beside her, lifting her and cradling her against him. “Abby, my God! What happened? Are you— Abby, wake up!”

She forced her eyes open. Graeme was leaning over her, his face stark white. A smile curved her lips. “Graeme.” She snuggled into his chest and fell asleep again.

The next time Abby awoke, she was lying in a soft bed. She blinked up at the tester, then slowly turned her head. Graeme sat in an armchair beside the bed, his head resting against the chair and his eyes closed.

“Graeme.” The word came out more a croak than speech.

His eyes flew open. “Abby! Thank God, you’re awake.”

“What—” Vague memories of flames and smoke flitted through her mind. She remembered looking through papers in front of the fire—no, that had been a dream. Reality had been the blazing draperies, the smoke clouding the air.

“Your drapes caught on fire. You must have fallen asleep and left a candle burning, and it set fire to the drapes.”

Had she? Abby struggled to remember.

“Thank goodness you woke up and managed to ring for the servants. Molly found you by the connecting door to this room.” He took her hand, rubbing his thumb over it. “You were very fortunate. By the time Molly got there, the canopy was on fire and falling onto the bed.” He tightened his hand around hers. “You would have been burned if you’d still been lying there.”

Abby drew in a sharp breath, which set off another paroxysm of coughing. Graeme poured her a glass of water, and she gratefully took a gulp. Her mouth and throat were parched. When the water hit her stomach, it lurched, and for a moment she was afraid that she was about to embarrass herself and toss it all back up. Her stomach settled. She lay back against the pillows. She remembered crawling across the floor, her only thought of finding Graeme, forgetting that he was not home.

Abby frowned. “Why are you here? I thought you were in Sussex.”

“I didn’t stay. I . . .” He rubbed the back of his neck in an embarrassed manner. “I decided I didn’t want to, um, waste an evening there. Fortunately, I was able to catch the evening train back to London.”

Abby smiled. He hadn’t wanted to spend the evening away. “I’m glad.”

“I only wish I’d made it earlier. When I think what could have happened to you . . .”

“I can’t believe I fell asleep reading. I never do that.” But she remembered how very sleepy she had felt the evening before.

He leaned down, hooking his hand around the nape of her neck, and kissed her forehead. “I’m glad you’re safe.”

Abby curled her arms around his neck. “And I’m glad you’re home.”

“So am I.” He brushed his lips against hers. “Now go back to sleep. You need the rest.”

Reluctantly she let her arms fall away from him. “I will if you’ll lie down with me.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want to disturb you.”

She laughed. “I’m sure. I’m not ill or injured . . . just a little fuzzy-headed. I’ll sleep better if you’re here.”

He smiled and stripped off his clothes. Climbing into bed beside her, he took her in his arms. Abby snuggled up against him, relaxing and letting sleep take her. Just as she drifted off, a single thought popped into her brain: how had the candle caught the drapes on fire when it had been sitting in the middle of the table?

Abby was still groggy the next morning when she was awakened by Molly bringing in a breakfast of tea and toast. Molly hugged Abby tightly, then went on to scold her for her carelessness.

“How many times have I told you not to sit in your bed reading?”

“It’s beyond count.” Abby smiled. She wasn’t sure why, but it made her feel better to hear her old nurse’s familiar words.

Molly sniffed. “Not that you ever listened.”

“I’ve never fallen asleep before,” Abby protested. “A book is more likely to keep me awake than put me to sleep.”

“Not this time. And what in heaven’s name were you thinking, setting the candle down so close to the drapes?”

“I didn’t. I put it down in the middle of the table. I’m certain.”

“So you’re saying that candlestick walked itself over to the side?” Molly crossed her arms and fixed Abby with a stern gaze that made her feel approximately five years old. “Or maybe the dowager countess goes creeping about the house at night moving folks’ candles about?”