Part Six
Peter hoped that Eugénie was sleeping better than he was, since he’d tossed and turned ever since they’d said goodnight in the upstairs hallway.
Simmie was there to look after her, so he had no worries on that score.
If anyone could soothe and care for an exhausted young woman, it was Simmie with her years of experience.
After all, she’d recognised Eugénie as a young lady of quality right off the bat.
He hadn’t, and that fact embarrassed the hell out of him.
His room was warm, the fire glowing in the hearth, and his bed beckoned. But he couldn’t settle. Eventually he gave up, grabbed a thick blanket and tucked himself into one of the chairs by the fire. Warming his toes on the nearby footstool, he settled down for a serious think.
Eugénie was a Dessier.
That announcement had been quite a shock.
Peter didn’t consider himself a knowledgeable man of the world.
..he knew what he needed to know, and most of the time that kept him busy enough.
But the name Dessier had cropped up now and again during the process of extracting the Northwick estate from the mess Stephen had created.
More than a few bankers had revealed the Dessier fingers in their pies.
So Eugénie’s pedigree was impressive.
Were her father and brother still in England? And if so, where might they be? If he favoured the odds, they’d be somewhere in London, since that was the centre of British finance, along with a variety of other businesses involved in the recently concluded war.
He could see no other way of finding out other than sending a rider to town.
It would take several days to get there and return.
..most probably his old friend John Matson, now Baron Sweetwood, would be the most likely person to have the information Peter needed.
And he lived on the outskirts of town, in a charming estate near enough to hear all the town gossip, but far enough away to maintain his sanity.
At least that’s what he’d told Peter the last time they met.
He’d know if the Dessiers were anywhere in town. Hell, he’d probably had them over for dinner, come to think of it. John had made his own fortune before succeeding to the Barony, and he’d also helped the Northwicks make it through their hardest days.
So Peter ticked off one matter of business. Send an urgent message to Sweetwood.
Then there was the question of Eugénie herself. She was lovely, with what Peter was coming to realise was a brilliant mind behind those stunning eyes, and she was single. Which was a problem in and of itself.
If she were to maintain any kind of reputation at all, she needed a chaperone.
He mentally rolled his eyes at himself. Yes, he admitted to himself that he was strongly attracted to her. It was unusual, this feeling of knowing a woman without actually knowing her.
He took some time to think about that, and failed to come to any useful conclusion, other than he’d like to spend more time with her, talking to her, learning everything about her, perhaps even tasting those full lips...
Whoa.
Her voice seemed so familiar, had it haunted his dreams?
He stared into the fire, wondering, trying to find that irritating something that was bothering him about her. Aroused, troubled, and tired, Peter took himself back to bed. The fire was dying down a little anyway, and his toes were getting cold.
Groaning, he pulled the covers up around his ears and sternly ordered himself to sleep. It almost worked, his mind relaxed...and then he sat up. “Good Lord. Great-aunt Louise. She’d be perfect...”
But even the soft warmth cocooning him couldn’t erase the thoughts of taking Eugénie in his arms and kissing the daylights out of her.
It felt so familiar, like he’d done it once before...
The following morning, Eugénie awoke and wondered where the hell she was for at least three startled minutes. Then the memories flooded in, and she lay back on the soft pillows with a sigh of relief. She had not overslept, nor did she need to clean a single hearth or empty any chamber pots anymore.
Which thought gave her several minutes of sheer delight. But then reality kicked the happiness aside and reminded her she should make a plan to find her remaining family.
What had become of Paul? She could remember the tall dark-haired young man he’d become, but it had been a long time since they’d been together. What a scrambled life her family had led...and she was following in their footsteps with her current situation.
What would Peter do with her?
An unusual shimmer of warmth tickled her insides at that thought. He was one of the most handsome men she’d ever seen...not because of his appearance – which was very nice indeed – but because his smile was genuine, as was his character.
She’d learned much during her travels, not only from her family, but also from the people that had crossed her path. And character had always seemed the most important thing to her. Smiles were easy, superficial, and commonplace. But the warmth behind the smile? That couldn’t be faked.
Peter had had the warmth years ago, and she knew he still did.
Thinking of him made her want to purr and pull the covers back up so that she could linger in her snug nest and indulge herself with a few dreams...and of course at that moment there was a tap on her door.
“Mornin’, Miss.” The maid set a cup of tea on the bedside table. “Right cold it is today, so I’m gonna stoke up the fire and warm up the room before you get up.” She bustled to the hearth. “Might warm your petticoat here before you dress, too.”
Confronted with the mundane business of tea and dressing, Eugénie pushed her thoughts of Peter into the background, and let herself relish the care she’d almost forgotten.
It was almost an hour later when her maid pronounced her ready for the day, making sure her shawl was tucked snugly in place. Where the gown she was wearing today came from, she didn’t know, and reminded herself to ask Simmie or Peter at the earliest opportunity.
Which was within moments of leaving her room since he was at the bottom of the stairs waiting for her.
“Good morning,” he called, as she began her descent.
“Hullo,” she smiled back. “I slept like a log. Thank you.”
“Better than at Blackfield, I’ll wager.”
“You’d win.” She paused near the bottom and looked around, seeing the hall for the first time. “Peter, your home is quite lovely.”
He held out his hand to her as she stepped onto the chequered wood floor. “Thank you. I like it.” He tucked her arm beneath his. “Come and see the parlour. And, if my nose isn’t mistaken, have breakfast at the same time.
“How delightful.” Her little sigh didn’t go unnoticed.
“Are you well, Eugénie? Honestly?” He led her into the small parlour, where covered dishes rested on a sideboard, and a table had been set for two.
“Good morning, sir, Miss Dessier.” Lucas bowed. “May I serve you?”
Peter shook his head. “We’ll take care of ourselves, thank you. Tell cook everything smells wonderful.”
Since Eugénie’s stomach was about to growl in a agreement, she smiled at Lucas. “It does indeed. My mouth is already watering.”
Shortly thereafter, she found herself sitting across from Peter with a full plate of breakfast in front of her and a lovely bow window to her left, showing the mounds of snow that had fallen in the night.
It was so...so perfect, that she found – to her horror – tears filling her eyes.
“What?” Peter noticed immediately. “What is it, Eugénie? Are you alright? In pain?”
He was about to push back his chair when she held up her hand.
“I’m fine,” she sniffed. “It’s just...it’s just all so wonderful.
” She pointed out the window. “I’m sitting by a wonderful window looking out on what could be a perfect painting of winter, and I have an amazing breakfast in front of me, and I’m wearing the most wonderful clothing, and I’m warm.
..” She caught her breath. “I’m overwhelmed by it all, Peter.
And so grateful, so very grateful. I don’t have the right words. ..”
He eased back down into his chair, and simply looked at her, his eyes so gentle and kind that the tears again stung the backs of her eyes.
“I understand, Eugénie. At least I think I do. Although I will admit I can’t imagine cleaning out hearths and working as hard as I’m sure you did at Blackfield.”
She sipped her tea then nodded. “I did. And I hope you don’t mind, but I did ask Amy if she liked working here.”
He grinned. “What did she say?”
Eugénie nibbled on a piece of toast. “She said...and I quote...working here is just wonderful. Everyone helps everyone and nobody is looked down on for what they do.” She refrained from adding the part about how Peter was so handsome and such a nice man that most of the maids were half in love with him.
There was no need to feed his ego along with his stomach.
“I’m glad,” he answered, munching on a rasher of bacon. “My mother always said that a happy household was a successful one.”
“How very true.” Eugénie nodded and then seriously addressed her breakfast.
They ate in a comfortable silence for a little while, then Peter put down his knife and fork and picked up his tea, glancing at her over the top of it as he drank. “You need a chaperone, Eugénie.”
She pursed her lips and thought about that statement for a moment or two. Then she nodded.
“You’re right, I’m afraid. It’s quite stupid, given where I’ve been for the last couple of years, but yes, I must agree. Or...”
“Or?”
“Or you put me into a carriage and send me away.”
Peter huffed out a laugh. “No. Not under any circumstances imaginable. Just no.”
Scared that he might glimpse the joy his words had engendered, she stared at the remains of her breakfast until she felt she could manage intelligible speech.
“All right. I will do whatever you think is best.”
“Ah.”
“Just ah?
“Well, I believe one of our problems can be solved when my great-aunt Louise arrives.”
Eugénie blinked. “Um...”