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Before long, after a few more investigative questions from Mrs. Kitchingside, the three of them arrived at the room.

“Toilet’s down the hall, breakfast is served downstairs in the dining room from six o’clock to nine o’clock, and I’ll be up shortly with complimentary cake and a hot drink for you both.”

“Oh, lovely,” Matthew said with a smile, taking the ancient-looking key she extended toward him. “Thank you so much for your hospitality, Mrs. Kitchingside.”

She nodded, her eyes flicking between them before she left, though it looked like it pained her to do so.

Matthew unlocked the door, then motioned for Winnie to precede him inside the room. With a grateful nod, she ducked past him and entered the cozy space, her eyes sweeping across the room in pleasant surprise at the clean, inviting atmosphere.

The walls were painted a soft olive green, dotted with a few frames holding pressed leaves from oak trees and bracken, and the king-sized bed was covered with a white duvet, a large, floral comforter was folded neatly at the foot of it.

At the far side of the room, near the single black, diamond-paned window, was a small seating area with two thin chairs and a table that didn’t look like it could support the weight of a single crumpet, let alone two meals.

The size of the room wasn’t very grand at all, the bed taking up most of it, but it was tidy, smelled of lemons and musty wood, and—most importantly—was warm and dry.

“Not bad, is it?” Matthew asked behind her.

Winnie nearly jumped. She’d been so taken with the quaintness of the room, she’d almost forgotten she wasn’t alone.

Almost. Because who could ever really forget when they were around Matthew Wintour?

“It’s really nice,” she agreed, still turned slightly away from him.

“And look,” he said, motioning to a twelve-inch television with a video player beneath it. “We could even fall asleep to a movie tonight. No, wait. I’ve forgotten my VHS collection at home.”

She grinned. “Are you sure you didn’t leave it behind with your other antique?”

He turned accusing eyes on her. “You’d best not be speaking of my Minnie.”

She laughed, and they shared a smile, their eyes catching as neither pulled away.

Winnie’s breathing shallowed. She tried to lean on that same confidence she had downstairs, but the reality of their situation continued to thwap her right in the face.

This had not been a part of the plan, to spend the night with Matthew. Not a part of the plan, her plan, or any plan.

But tonight, with those once-glacial blue eyes now looking at her with all the warmth of the deep, crystal pools of the Caribbean, she wasn’t sure that she didn’t want this—that she didn’t want him—to have been a part of her plan all along.

“You’re not going to make this awkward now, are you?” Matthew asked.

She placed a hand on her hip. “Nope, definitely not. Are you?”

“Why would it be awkward?” He walked to the other side of the room, sliding her suitcase—which he’d carried up the stairs for her—against the bed. “We’re just two enemies turned business associates turned…friends? Question mark?”

She nodded, laughing at his words, as if he was voice texting.

“Yes, friends,” he continued, “who just spent two days together not on a date, and who are now going to end it by sharing a room together.” He glanced at her from over his shoulder as he moved his own suitcase toward the opposite side of the room. “There’s nothing strange about that at all.” He looked up, staring at nothing in particular. “And yet, if my mum knew where I was…” He blew out a slow whistle and shook his head.

“If she did, she’d be just fine with it,” Winnie said, taking a few steps forward. He seemed to be owning the room as he walked about, but she was going to pay for half of it. She could own it, too. “Because that’s literally all we’re doing. Sharing a room. Nothing else.”

“Nothing else at all.” He turned to face her, tucking his hands in his front pockets as his eyes took on a glint she wasn’t sure she liked.

It was a good thing she did trust him because otherwise, with a look like that, she would have gone running for a distraction from Mrs. Kitchingside and Angel.

With an amused shake of her head, she turned away from him, feeling slightly overheated, despite her clothing still being soaked through.

Speaking of.

“I’m gonna go get changed,” she said, pulling out her pajamas and bag of toiletries from her packing cube at the top of the suitcase.