Chapter 14
Standing beside the bed, Padua looked down on the evidence of the night.
The bedclothes appeared as if marauders had fought in them.
Half the pillows lay in the wrong places.
Ives, sound asleep, lay naked, sprawled in abandon.
She reached for an edge of a sheet and dragged it, so he might be covered from the waist down at least.
She donned her undressing gown and padded into the dressing room. The sky outside had lightened to a dark silver-gray.
The servant girl scratched on the outside of the dressing room’s door to the corridor. That had never happened before. Yesterday when she heard Padua up and about, she just came in.
Padua wondered if the woman suspected there was a naked man in the apartment. If she did not, she probably began wondering when Padua would not let her in, and insisted she would do for herself this morning.
She pried the pail of hot water out of the servant’s hands and shut the door. She gave herself a thorough washing. Ives had affected her body enough that she still felt as if he were inside her. If she closed her eyes, she sensed the echoes of his thrusts still making her throb.
She had been very bad last night. Self-indulgent and irresponsible. She might well regret every minute one day. Right now, however, she did not. Could not.
The light outside had turned from gray to gold when the door to the corridor opened again. Eva walked in. She wore a morning dress and a cap festooned with lace. She carried a stack of garments in her arms.
“I saw your maid near the stairs, so I knew you were awake. I am grateful someone else is.” She set her burden down. “I always rise early now. It can’t be helped. Lying abed becomes uncomfortable.”
Padua casually positioned herself between Eva and the bedchamber door. “What have you there?”
“Three dresses, a spencer, and two pelisses. This red pelisse was purchased in Florence for my sister, who is taller than I am. Not as tall as you, but it will still be easier to alter. This overdress is fairly long, and with some nimble sewing should appear correct if used for the same purpose for you. Then over here are some embellishments, lace and feathers and such, that I pulled off some old clothes that the last duchess wore.”
“They are all lovely,” Padua exclaimed. Loudly. She held up each one, and went into raptures of excitement. “This fabric is perfect.” She twirled around in a little dance, thumping the floorboards. Noisily.
“I had hoped you would be pleased. Your enthusiastic appreciation gives me heart,” Eva said. “Now, slip on this wool so we can see what must be done.”
Padua slid the green wool dress over her chemise. Eva stood back and peered at it. She glanced to the windows and shook her head. “This will never do. We will have to fit it in the bedchamber, where the light is stronger.” She lifted all the fabric, and clutched the sewing basket’s handle.
Padua backed up and positioned herself at the bedchamber door. “Will that not be inconvenient? Pins and such should be in the drawers here, I think.”
“I have my basket,” Eva said. “It contains all that we need.” She heaved all of the fabric onto her left arm, and reached for the door latch with her right.
Padua braced her arm against the jamb, to form a physical barrier. “I would prefer you did not go in there.”
“Why?”
“I made a mess last night. So bad that I did not want my maid to set it to rights, and I have not had the chance yet to straighten it myself.”
Eva laughed. “Do not worry about that with me. I doubt it is too big a mess. What can one woman do in one evening?”
“Still, I would prefer if—”
“Oh, nonsense.” Eva grabbed the latch, turned, and pushed.
Padua felt the door open behind her. She knew Eva could see the whole chamber, even if she remained blocked from crossing the threshold. Eva’s attention focused on Padua, however. She frowned suspiciously, as if their entire exchange had suddenly struck her as odd.
Then Eva’s gaze shifted to the space behind Padua’s shoulder. Her eyes widened.
“You certainly did make a mess, Padua. It will take some doing to put to rights.”
Padua almost fainted with relief. Ives must have heard the conversation and slipped out of the chamber.
She turned to lead the way in. And groaned inwardly.
Ives still slept. He had moved just enough to uncover one finely formed leg, up to the hip. An arm crooked behind his head made his torso very taut.
Padua closed her eyes, mortified.
“Oh, my,” Eva said. “He is sleeping very soundly. If that is his habit after—well, after, he should have left last night.”
Padua could not remember any decision being made about that.
“I suppose those women he normally takes up with are not too particular about such things. They probably sleep until noon, too, and their households would know the arrangement.” Eva slipped past Padua and set her armful of garments down on a chair. She began sorting it out.
Padua inched into the chamber. “Are you going to fit this dress while he is right there? What if he wakes up and sees you?”
“What if he does? I am not naked. He is. If it will embarrass him, he should have thought about that several hours ago.” Eva shook her head. “I do not know what happened to him while we were gone. He was always so sensible, at least when he was not angry.”
“Perhaps I should wake him, so he is not sneaking back to his chambers in dishabille when the entire household is up and about.”
Eva held up a dress and scrutinized it. “That might be wise. Rumor has it Aylesbury has issued some ridiculous edict. It would not do to find out if he is actually serious about it.”
Padua walked over to the side of the bed near Ives. She jostled his shoulder.
His lids rose. He looked over, confused, then smiled. His arm circled her neck and he eased her face down toward his lips.
Padua squirmed to avoid being dragged into a kiss, and heaven knew what else. “Uhh, Eva is here. Look.”
Ives’s expression fell. He looked down the bed and through the chamber, to where Eva continued to debate the dresses. He grabbed a knot of sheet to cover himself better.
“Eva.” He laughed a little, very awkwardly.
“Good morning, Ives.”
“You are up early.”
“You are not.”
“No. Quite.” He looked at his situation. His gaze slid to where his clothes were heaped on the floor. He looked at Padua helplessly.
“Perhaps you would return to the dressing room for a few minutes, Eva,” Padua said. “Then Ives can get out of the bed and dress and leave.”
Eva faced them. Her gaze skewered Ives. “I am waiting for him to request my discretion, Padua. You do want that, don’t you, Ives?”
“Of course.” He cocked his head. “Are you angry with me, Eva?”
“I think I am. Padua is not an opera singer.”
“I know that.”
“Then do not be so careless with her reputation in the future, please.” Eva marched into the dressing room and closed the door.
Ives threw off the bedclothes. He went to his garments and pulled them on. “She is right. I was careless.”
“I just woke ten minutes ago,” Padua said. “Day has barely broken.”
“I should have left last night, or at least woken you with kisses if I indulged myself by sleeping with you in my arms.” He came back to her and embraced her. “We will tour the estate this afternoon, if you like. By then I expect you will have decided if you are angry with me too.”
He gave her a kiss, and walked out the door.
* * *
Lance had finished his meal when Ives entered the breakfast room. He sat at the table drinking coffee while he flipped through the mail.
“You are up early,” Lance said without looking up.
“As are you. Is this a new habit?”
“It is the result of unending ennui. I sleep early to escape it, only to have more hours in the morning to suffer it.” He paused over a letter, and raised an eyebrow.
“Miss Belvoir has mail. Sent here by Langley House. Two letters.” He set the one in his hand upon another over to the side.
“One from a friend, and one from a lawyer, I would say.”
Ives cast his gaze on those letters. While he did, Lance paused again, frowned, and reached for the opener that the butler had placed on the table.
Ives ate the hearty plate he had put together. He had woken hungry on several counts. That of the stomach he could at least sate. As to the other—he imagined taking Padua away to a cottage where relatives did not feel free to intrude on a bedchamber at ungodly hours of the morning.
He expected the entire household would know by noon.
Eva might be discreet as she promised, but it would not matter.
The maid would see that bed and know what had occurred.
His manservant would report Lord Ywain had not slept in his own bed.
Gareth would guess just from looking at the two of them, assuming Eva’s discretion included her husband, which it probably did not.
The only person who might remain ignorant was Lance, and only because his self-absorption these days blunted his normally sharp insights into people.
He could not take Padua away to a cottage, but he could remove her from this house for a few hours.
He had amends to make, for the embarrassment of Eva finding him in that bed.
He also had things to say. Just what things he did not know for certain.
Normally he said whatever needed saying before he took a woman to bed, not after.
Usually all he did was create a contract for pleasure.
But this affair with Padua was not normal. Hence the dilemma.
Lance’s nose still resided in the letter he had opened.
“What is that there, which requires you read it three times?” Ives said.
“A very curious letter. From Sidmouth. He never writes to me. Actually, I don’t think the Home Office secretary has said ten words to me in my life.” He waved the letter. “But suddenly I am his good friend, with whom he communicates at length.”
Ives stood. “I will leave you to it. I think a ride is in order. The day is fair.”