Chapter 10
"Paisley, watch out!"
It was too late, of course. The empty glass slid off the tray she was carrying, smashing on the floor.
The patrons around Paisley gave a cheer and began to clap, grinning at her.
Brodie wasn't smiling. He was glowering at Paisley, arms crossed.
"Those glasses aren't cheap to replace, ye know!" he snapped. "Where is yer head, Paisley?"
I left it in Dominic's office, after he kissed me.
"I'm sorry," she mumbled, bending down to sweep up the shattered glass and dregs of whiskey. "I've got a headache today."
That wasn't necessarily a lie. Hours had gone by since Paisley had inadvertently wandered into Dominic's office, only to be pulled down onto his bed like that and then kissed so thoroughly.
The kiss couldn't possibly have lasted long – only a few seconds – and Paisley herself had just stood there like an iced fish for most of it.
If she thought about it too long now, her knees threatened to buckle again.
The ache kept returning to her gut, pulsing between her legs in what was probably a shockingly unladylike manner.
She could still feel the warm curves of Dominic's muscles under her fingers, the sensation of his firm body against hers.
She wanted it to happen again, to run her hands over Dominic's body, to feel him run his hands over hers. ..
But, no. That wasn't proper, not in the slightest.
She kept replaying the moment over and over in her mind. Was that why Dominic had pushed her out of the door – because she seemed so shocked and uncomfortable? If she'd seemed more enthusiastic about the kiss, would he have let her stay?
And what then? What if he had let her stay?
Paisley shivered again, goosebumps breaking out over her arms.
Better not to think too deeply about that. She was still a lady, and ladies had standards to keep.
Sweeping up the last of the broken glass, she moved over to the counter to dispose of it.
"I am sorry, Brodie," she repeated. "It was an accident."
He sighed, shaking his head. "I know, I know. I dinnae mean to snap. I always get tense when I have to run the pub meself."
Despite herself, Paisley glanced up at the staircase. There was no sign of Dominic, of course. It was nine o' clock at night, and if he wasn't down now, it seemed unlikely that he would come down at all.
"Does he often let you run the pub yourself?" she asked cautiously.
"Nay, nae often. Sometimes, though. He owns the place, after all, and there's lots of paperwork and such to be done. He sleeps up in that office of his, ye know."
"Does he?" Paisley said unconvincingly. "I didn't know."
Brodie, thankfully, was no more skilled at spotting a liar than Paisley was at lying. He sighed, resting his elbows on the counter. "He's the strangest man I've ever met."
Paisley wholeheartedly agreed. Before she could say anything, Brodie threw a thoughtful glance her way.
"Are ye sure ye are all right, lass? Ye seem a wee bit... distracted."
Well, yes, she thought to herself. I just kissed the man who pays both of our wages, shortly before he pushed me out of his room and told me never to come in again. One might call that a confusing overall message.
"I have a headache." she said aloud again. It seemed simpler than explaining the whole business.
Brodie pursed his lips, scanning the pub. It was busy, as usual, but already Paisley could tell it wouldn't fill up the way it had last night.
"It's a weeknight," Brodie said eventually. "It won't be as busy as yesterday. If ye don't feel well, ye can take yerself home, if ye like."
Paisley hesitated. Leaving early would, of course, mean that any hope of seeing Dominic would be lost. But then, he probably wasn't going to come down that evening.
He's avoiding me, she thought clearly, and the idea sank into her gut like a stone.
"Very well," she said, with forced brightness. "That's kind of you, Brodie. Thank you."
He gave a nod and a smile, already concentrating on his next task.
Paisley pulled on her shawl, then stepped out into the cool, rain-tinged night.
There was no Dominic to guide her along the darkened path towards the forest, and she shivered, ducking her head and walking more quickly.
She twisted around just before the treeline, eyeing the lit-up Sinner pub. She could see one window on the second-floor glowing, a candle placed in the windowpane. She couldn't see anything else, but it was likely that it was Dominic's window.
Shivering, Paisley purposefully turned herself around, and hurried into the darkness of the forest. Better get home. Dominic was avoiding her for tonight. Maybe tomorrow would be different.
The rain had set in definitively by the time Paisley got home. It was a light drizzle, but cold and constant, and soaked quickly through her thin shawl.
There were a group of drunken men in the foyer of the Crown Inn, and Paisley ducked her head as she went by, hoping to avoid attention.
She was in luck tonight, it seemed. The men didn't notice her, and she breathed out in relief, climbing the first set of stairs that led to her room.
Ava hadn't been in The Sinner, but that didn't mean that she was home. There were other pubs, other locales she might have gone. Suddenly, Paisley wanted nothing more than to be in her room, to sit quietly on her bed, and absorb the day's events.
Dominic had kissed her.
He'd also pulled her tight to him and they'd lain on a bed together, but now probably wasn't the right time to think too hard about that.
Paisley's head was spinning. She could think of nothing beyond Dominic's warm, firm body against hers, the scent of wet grass and whiskey that was so uniquely Dominic it made her dizzy.
She kept thinking the kiss over and over in her head, wondering what else she could have done, what it meant, and whether or not she was being a fool to think so hard about it.
He's probably kissed lots of girls, Paisley thought, the idea sending a pang through her. She didn't want to think of Dominic kissing other women, although he almost certainly had.
Paisley wasn't a fool. She'd always known that the standards set in Polite Society were extremely one-sided. Ladies had to be chaste and demure, preferably as ignorant as possible to the ways of men and the dangers of the world. It was best to be artless, but not stupid.
Men weren't held to the same requirements. Oh, they had to behave a certain way in public – never contradicting a lady, never being seen to be in their cups by a lady, taking care not to be alone with a lady lest they be forced into marriage by an outraged Society.
But once the parties ended, it was another story altogether.
Gentlemen could keep mistresses, swear, drink, and brawl, sire a hundred illegitimate children, and merrily beat their wives and children whenever they pleased, and still be accepted in the highest circles in the land, so long as they behaved politely when it mattered.
It wasn't fair, but it wasn't going to change anytime soon, so there was no point railing against it.
Or so Paisley's Mama had said, anyway.
She unlocked the door to her room and slipped inside.
Ava was home, judging by the profusion of candles lit in the room.
While Paisley was securely locking the door behind her – sometimes drunk men patrolled the hallways at night, and occasionally took it into their heads to try random door handles in hopes of finding an unlocked one – Ava appeared from the tiny washroom, her hair wet and her skin glistening with moisture.
"Ye are home early," she observed.
Paisley raised an eyebrow. "So are you."
"Ah, this is a night off for me," Ava paused, tilting her head to one side. "Are ye all right, lass?"
"Oh, I'm fine," Paisley lied.
"Huh. Well, a letter arrived for ye. I left it on yer bed."
A flurry of nerves settled in Paisley's stomach. She swallowed hard, glancing over.
A white envelope, sealed with a vibrantly red blob of wax, sat neatly on her well-made bed.
Ava's bed was never made. Right now, it was a knot of crumpled sheets and flattened pillows.
What's the point of making me bed, Ava had said once when Paisley asked about it, when I'm just going to mess it up again at night?
Paisley wasn't in the mood to laugh over Ava's idiosyncrasies.
She plopped down on the bed and picked up the letter.
The paper was smooth and creamy, not at all like the thin, pulpy stuff you could buy in the village here.
The red seal was marked by a signet ring, a familiar one.
Paisley ran shaking fingers over the indent and swallowed down her fear.
"That's a fine, red seal." Ava commented from the washroom. "Who's it from?"
"I haven't opened it yet." Paisley replied, pleased that her voice didn't tremble.
Snapped the seal, she unfolded the letter, holding her breath.
It was more or less the letter she'd been expecting and dreading to receive since she arrived here.
To Our Dearest Paisley,
We hope you are well. As you can tell, I am writing this letter, since Alex's handwriting is atrocious, and he writes so slowly.
I shall get straight to the point – Papa and the earl are starting to ask questions.
The earl, in my opinion, has long since suspected that you are not at Aunt Jemimah's, and is itching to start up a search for you.
Papa is getting nervous. He asks Alex and me frequent questions, and I believe that he too is starting to suspect something.
We haven't been able to write very often, for fear that Papa would discover it, and tell the earl where you are.
I hate to say it, but I believe he thinks the earl is within his rights to come there and fetch you home if Papa himself can't. He keeps saying that a betrothal is a betrothal, and that is that.
I know he thinks that this is the best thing for you, and neither I nor Alex can convince him otherwise.
It's difficult to tell what Mama thinks. She doesn't like the earl, I know, but she is keen to see you married and settled. Alex and I have done well so far, I think. You would laugh to see us – we act so innocent and confused, as if we know no more than anyone else.
I'm glad you're safe and happy where you are, and I think of you all the time. Alex wants to send you more money, but I think that could be dangerous. This letter is risky enough, but I thought you needed to be warned.
I must go now. The earl is coming to visit again. He and Papa go into the study for hours, talking about goodness only knows what. I don't like that man. I saw him strike one of the footmen only the other day, and Papa didn't say a word. Perhaps he didn't believe me. He's suspicious of us still.
That's all I dare write for now. Much as we would adore a letter from you, don't write back unless it is necessary – it's too dangerous at the moment.
Your Loving Brother and Sister,
Alex and Eliza
Paisley swallowed hard, feeling sick. She'd known that the story about fleeing to her aunt's house wouldn't last long. Aunt Jemimah was famously bad with correspondence, and the post in that part of the country was notoriously bad. Plus, it was too far to easily travel.
But they wouldn't be put off forever. If the earl found out where she was... Paisley's hands crumpled the letter without her conscious thought.
The bed dipped as Ava sat gently beside her.
"Are ye goin' to tell me what's goin' on, or shall I guess?" Ava said quietly. "We're friends, arenae we?"
Paisley sighed, biting her lower lip.
"It's a very dull story, I'm afraid. My parents wanted me to marry a particular man – a rich, influential man – and I don't wish to marry him."
Ava shrugged. "Say nay. Dae what ye are doing now. Just leave. They cannae drag ye down the aisle, can they?"
"It's not that simple."
"Tell me."
Paisley drew in a breath and began.
"The man they want me to marry is Malcolm Abbey, the Earl of Ainsley."
Ava gave a low whistle. "Go on."
"Well, he's not exactly my age, and he was married before.
He and his wife never had children, and a few years ago.
.. well, she died, but there was always talk about it.
It was a sudden death. She fell from a window, and all of her friends and family swore that she would never have jumped. It was said to be an accident, but..."
"Accidents arenae always accidental." Ava said, her voice hard. "And this man wants to marry ye?"
She nodded. "Papa owes him a debt. Money, I think, and it must be a great deal if he can't just pay it back.
Papa seemed a little confused as to how he came to owe the money in the first place.
Something to do with a card game, brandy that tasted strange.
.. I don't understand it, but he insists that it's a debt of honor, and that Lord Ainsley would make a good husband and a good son-in-law. He wants to see me married; you know."
"To a man who murdered his wife?"
Paisley gave a groan, dropping her head into her hands.
"You don't understand. My parents – especially my father – believe that everyone is good in the world.
He thinks that since Lord Ainsley is a gentleman, he is honest, honorable, and good.
He thinks that he just struggles to express his feelings, and that marriage to a good woman would help him. He thinks I can change him."
"People daenae change unless they want to change." Ava muttered. "Ye did well to run."
"It's just... well, if my family find out where I am, they'll come to collect me...” Paisley trailed off with a shudder. "And I don't want to be anywhere near Lord Ainsley when that happens. I don't trust him. Not one bit."
"How did ye get away?"
She smiled down at the letter, a sad, pensive smile. "My younger brother and sister helped me get away. I'm lucky to have them. But now, I can't go home. I'm on my own."
Ava pursed her lips, thinking.
"Well," she said eventually. "For now, ye are safe. Ye can stay here until this earl loses interest, cannae ye?"
"Yes, but I'm not sure I can ever go home. Ladies don't run away, no matter how old they are. No matter how rich or influential. I went away without a male protector and a chaperone, so nobody will ever accept me again. My reputation is ruined forever. Nobody would ever marry me."
"Is that the worst thing in the world, not getting married?"
"No, of course not, but..." Paisley trailed off. She couldn't help but compare the earl – tall, thin, fair-haired and with those nasty cold eyes – to Dominic. Dominic was warmer, somehow, more vital, more human.
The two simply couldn't compare.
She drew in a breath, squaring her shoulders. Ava was still watching her, waiting for her reply.
"I'm lucky." Paisley said with a smile, taking her friend's hand. "That's what I need to remember. I am very, very lucky."
Ava chuckled. "Luck is a priceless thing. Let's just hope that yours doesn't run out, eh?"