Page 38
Clamoring and banging woke Vangie. Through half-open eyes, she saw Emmy—no, the maid was named Irma—attempting to light the coals in the grate. She rolled onto her side, and resting her cheek on one hand, stared at the pillow beside hers. Though the indentation from Ian’s head remained, he was gone. She’d known he would be.
Her gaze shifted to the canopied top. A smile tempted the corners of her mouth. Garlands of pink roses hung from bedpost to bedpost. How could she have missed them last night?
Because I was otherwise engaged.
She’d heard his plea for forgiveness. She lay awake long after he’d fallen asleep, still cradling her in his arms. He’d not heard her whispered, “Te aves yertime mander tai te yertil tut o Del. I forgive you, and may God forgive you as I do.”
She was no weak-willed, milk and water miss. Roma made the best of whatever lot was cast their way. They found happiness where they could. She sat upright and scooted against the fluffy pillows, tugging the bedcovering higher to hide her nakedness. Yawning behind her hand, she froze.
The mess on the floor.
Her gaze flew to the other side of the room. No trace of last night’s debacle remained. Had Ian cleaned it up to prevent gossip? From the corner of her eye, she searched the dressing table. The ill-fated brush and comb sat neatly atop it. Everything else had disappeared.
Irma handed Vangie her faded green robe, behaving like it was the most ordinary thing in the world to wake a naked woman in the morn. Mayhap it wasn’t an uncommon occurrence. The notion settled sickeningly in her belly.
“Your bath water is heating, my lady, and I’ve brought you breakfast.” Irma drew the linen and lace curtains open, permitting the morning light to spill unheeded into the room.
Vangie blinked against the sudden brilliance.
“You’re to leave for Somersfield as soon as you’ve dressed, and I’ve packed your belongings.” She indicated the trunk near the door with a slight bobble of her head.
Vangie slipped off the bed, uncomfortably self-conscious about her nudity. She wrapped the robe more firmly about as she padded to the table where Irma had arranged her breakfast. Securing the garment’s tie at her waist, she gingerly took a seat. “Somersfield?” She took a sip of savory tea before nibbling a hot, buttered muffin.
“His lordship’s country estate in Northumberland.”
“Irma, mightn’t I bathe straightaway?”
“It’s Emma, my lady.”
Oh bother, of course it was.
Intent on the rumpled bed, she sent Vangie a quizzical glance. “Before you eat, your ladyship?”
Was that so preposterous? Ducking her head, she nodded, her hair swirling around her hips. Please, don’t ask why.
Emma tossed back the bedding. “Of course, my—” She stopped short, unsuccessfully stifling a gasp. She spun around and scurried to the door. “I’ll see to it at once.”
Teacup raised to her lips, Vangie’s attention strayed to the bed. A crimson stain marred the surface. Her maidenhead. Was that much blood normal? Ian was very well-endowed, and his great size had torn her.
What would the servants think? For she was certain, even now, Emma filled their ears.
Tea sloshed over the cup’s rim, and the china rattled noisily when Vangie clanked the cup onto the saucer with more force than intended. She shoved to her feet then crossed to stare at the indisputable proof of her virginity. To her immense mortification, she’d not completely ceased bleeding. Snatching the bedcoverings over the stain, a hot flush stole across her face.
A few minutes later, a knock rattled the chamber door. “My lady, it’s Mrs. Parker and the staff with your bath water,” came the housekeeper’s muffled voice through the thick wood.
Vangie wrapped the robe tighter around her, clutching the neckline together with one hand. Hurrying to stand near the window, as far from the door as she could, she called, “Come in.”
Mrs. Parker and Emma, carrying an armful of towels, bustled into the room. They were followed by three under-footmen, all toting large pails of water. The housekeeper directed the men to fill the copper tub in the corner, watching their every move with a practiced eye. Shooing the footman from the room the moment they’d completed their task, her gaze settled on the nearly untouched breakfast tray. “Have you finished with your meal, my lady?”
“Yes, thank you. I’m afraid I’ve not much of an appetite this morning.”
“Humph, it’s no wonder,” harrumphed the housekeeper, her gaze meeting Emma’s across the room.
Did they know about her quarrel with Ian? Vangie wanted to melt into the floor such was her mortification.
Mrs. Parker accepted the towels from the maid. “Emma, please remove her ladyship’s tray, and retrieve the items I prepared below.”
Dipping a curtsy, the freckled-face servant hastily gathered the remnants of Vangie’s breakfast before exiting the room. Not, however, before she cast her a pity-filled glance.
