Chapter 30
Nell had sometimes observed a local farmer near the Academy using a clever collie to cut a sheep from his flock.
It was in just such an effortless manner that Lord Amstead singled Nell out from his small herd of guests, placing her next to him at tea, then at dinner, and then again as they gathered in the drawing room afterward for cards.
It was he who commanded her smiles and her conversation, he who refilled her wineglass (three times altogether!), and he who partnered her at whist.
The other gentlemen had only stared. So, too, had Lady Belwood. Nell had caught the woman stealing anxious glances at her all evening. As for Miles…
There had been no opportunity for Nell to speak with him alone. Not even when they returned to their room to change for dinner. Lady Belwood’s maid had been there, waiting to assist with Nell’s evening toilette.
Miles had politely withdrawn. He hadn’t returned until the maid had buttoned the final jet button on Nell’s blue grosgrain silk bodice and placed the last pin in her gracefully rolled coiffure.
Even then, Nell had been denied a chance for a quiet word with her husband, for Lord Amstead had been close at Miles’s heels.
“You’ve promised to act as my hostess,” Amstead had reminded, offering Nell his arm. “Isn’t that right, Quincey? And a charming one she’ll make. I shall be the envy of every man at the table.”
Miles hadn’t given his permission. Neither had he objected.
He knew as well as Nell did that they must exploit any chance at getting close to Lord Amstead.
It didn’t mean Miles liked the idea. Quite the reverse.
As Nell had taken the baron’s arm, she’d caught a glimpse of a muscle working in Miles’s jaw.
He was displeased. Possibly angry.
Or possibly something else.
Nell endeavored not to dwell on it. Indeed, as the evening progressed, she was too focused on gathering information from Lord Amstead and his guests to think very much about Miles at all.
When she did, it wasn’t to fret over his potential jealousy, but to long for a moment alone with him so she might share what she’d learned.
An uncomfortable dilemma.
The only place she and Miles could have any semblance of privacy was their room. And there was that dratted bed to consider.
But there was no avoiding it forever. Inevitably, the hour finally arrived when it was time to retire.
Miles accompanied Nell upstairs to their bedchamber in brooding silence. The lamps had been lit for them and the bed turned down. A fire was kindled in the hearth, bathing the room in a flickering glow.
Nell turned to face him the instant he shut and locked the door. “Bricket Lodge,” she said.
Miles regarded her with a frown.
Nell was undeterred. He obviously understood what she was referencing. They’d exchanged a significant look when Lady Upshott had mentioned the place during tea.
“Mr. Cowgill was there earlier this year,” she reminded him. “What if he encountered Lord Amstead’s former housekeeper, Mrs. Virtue, during his stay? What if, in the course of attempting to glean some gossip for his society column, he heard something damaging about the Fawn-Purvis family?”
“I suspect he did,” Miles said.
“Which would explain why Lord Amstead got rid of all of the servants. He didn’t want them sharing whatever it is they knew.
” Folding her arms, Nell walked to the fireplace.
“If his lordship has something to hide—” She broke off, coming to a halt on the hearthrug.
“And that’s another thing. What do you suppose happened with his sister, Jane? ”
Miles slowly crossed the room to join her in front of the fire. The shadows from the flames danced over his solemn countenance. “A scandal of some sort. I shall find out more tomorrow. If Amstead won’t discuss it, you can be certain that one of his sporting friends will.”
“And at least one of the ladies,” Nell said. “Lady Upshott seems the most likely to traffic in gossip. She’s well enough acquainted with the family to know the names of the old butler and housekeeper. Doubtless she knows about the sister, too.”
“You can question her and the others tomorrow when I go out shooting with the men. I’ll talk to Radford if I can get him alone long enough. As for Amstead—”
“Amstead, exactly,” Nell repeated the name with dramatic emphasis. “Amstead.”
Miles’s brow creased.
“That’s what he’s called now,” Nell explained.
“Not Mr. Fawn-Purvis. The moment he ascended to the title, he became Baron Amstead. Lord Amstead. Or just Amstead, as his friends call him. Do you see? It only came to me this evening during all those hours in the wretched man’s company.
Mr. Cowgill’s notebook didn’t mention Amstead at all. It mentioned Fawn-Purvis and Innes.”
Understanding registered on Miles’s face. Astonishment followed with it. “By God, you’re right.”
In her excitement, Nell instinctively moved closer to him. She sank her voice. “What if he wasn’t referencing the baron? What if it was another family member entirely?”
“Jane Fawn-Purvis?” Miles suggested.
“It must be,” Nell said. “Something about her and Innes.”
“You think they were—?”
“No.” Nell wrinkled her nose at the thought. “Heavens, no. According to the peerage, Jane is a girl in her twenties. While Innes must be past fifty at least.”
“It’s not unheard of.”
“Possibly not. But really, Miles. Innes? He’s no Sir Galahad.”
“Not to you, perhaps.”
“Or to any young girl, I should think. Even if he was…what has that to do with Whitechapel and five thousand pounds? And if he did debauch Amstead’s sister, why is he still here? Why wasn’t he dismissed along with the rest of the servants?”
“We’ll find out soon enough,” Miles said. “If not from our efforts tomorrow, then from Mrs. Virtue herself.”
Nell’s eyes widened. “You propose that we visit Bricket Lodge? But how? We can’t ask Lord Amstead’s coachman to drive us there.”
“No. But we can borrow a gig and drive there ourselves.”
“On what pretense?”
“The most obvious one.”
She looked at him blankly.
Miles remained unsmiling. “That I require time alone with my wife.”
Her heartbeat quickened.
“It’s the only rational response to recent events,” he said. “Amstead has commandeered you since our arrival. No husband worth his salt would stand idly by without demanding equal time.”
Nell could think of nothing suitable to say in reply. She’d suspected Miles wasn’t happy with her having spent so many hours out of his company this evening. It seemed she hadn’t been wrong.
Unless he was simply offering the most likely excuse.
How was she to guess? Her new husband was difficult to read at the best of times, but since entering their bedchamber he’d betrayed scarcely any emotion at all.
He’d been silent and still, watching her with a peculiarly measuring look.
As though he were a very large predator determining the most efficient way to dispatch its prey.
Nell tightened her arms around herself. She was suddenly conscious of the closeness of the room. And of the presence of the bed. A quiver went through her that had nothing to do with the sinking temperature outside.
“Yes, well…That sounds like an excellent plan,” she said.
With that, she abruptly went to the small dressing table near the window. She took a seat on the padded bench in front of it.
Miles didn’t follow her. He went to the end of the bed.
She couldn’t tell what he was doing there.
Undressing, very probably. There was the sound of fabric brushing fabric as he removed his jacket, and the whisper of cloth as he unknotted his cravat.
He’d worn an elegant black evening suit for dinner.
It was the handsomest she’d ever seen him.
She began withdrawing the hairpins that secured the thick roll at her nape, dropping them one by one into the porcelain pin jar on the table. Her hand wasn’t as steady as she’d like. “You’re not really bothered about Lord Amstead insisting on my company, are you?” she asked at last.
“Irritated,” Miles said. “I’ve had to spend half the day watching him salivate over you, and seeing you smile at him in reply.”
Nell half turned in her seat, forcing herself to look at him. He was in his shirtsleeves, his cravat loose at his neck and his coat tossed over the end of the bed. “They weren’t genuine smiles,” she informed him.
“I know they weren’t,” he said.
Her brows lifted in question.
“Your mouth was closed,” he said. “When you mean it, you show your teeth.”
A surge of embarrassment went through her. That he should notice that!
She turned back to the dressing table, grateful that the only looking glass was a minuscule one on a small silver stand. She had no desire to see how fiercely she was blushing. “My teeth aren’t my best feature,” she said stiffly.
“According to whom?” he asked.
Nell removed another pin from her hair. “Anyone with eyes.”
She’d damaged them when she fallen from the tower. Her front tooth was only crooked, but she had lost some at the back. They’d been shattered when she hit the ground, along with her hip and thigh.
“You have a beautiful smile when you mean it,” Miles said.
Her hand stilled as she loosened her rolled coiffure.
“When you don’t, as well,” he added. “But I prefer your genuine smiles.”
She huffed. “I don’t know why.”
“Because they’re real,” he said. “And because they’re mine.”
The words provoked a strange trembling in the pit of Nell’s stomach. She gave him an uncertain glance.
His mouth ticked up briefly at one corner. “But not only mine, sadly. It was Shadow who received the first of them.”
Nell remembered. It had been in Miles’s office, the day they’d met, a mere moment before the little tabby had plunged beneath Nell’s skirts. “I didn’t think to guard myself,” she said. “I wasn’t trying to beguile you at the time.”
“Weren’t you?” Miles crossed the room to join her.
Nell’s blood warmed as he came to stand beside her. He removed his cuff links one at a time, placing them down on the dressing table.
It was all too much. Too intimate. Her poor heart couldn’t handle it.
She moistened her lips. “Miles…”
“Yes, my dear?”
She summoned her courage. “What were you thinking of doing about our sleeping arrangements?”
“What would you like to do?” he asked.
She set her hands in her lap to stop their trembling. “I don’t know. I—”
Miles sank down in front of her. He took her hands in his, engulfing them in warmth. “What is it that you’re afraid of, sweetheart?” He searched her face. “It’s not me, is it?”
“No.”
“Isn’t it?”
“It’s not you.” She pressed his hands in return. “It’s…me.” She hesitated, hating that she must give voice to her insecurities. “Everything has been so lovely between us. I don’t want to ruin it.”
“How could you?”
“By disappointing you.”
He scoffed.
“I’m not perfect,” she said.
“Nor am I,” he replied. “Far from it.”
“You know what I mean. I…” She swallowed hard. “It’s my leg, you see. The sight of it—”
“I’ve seen your legs.”
“You haven’t.” Her voice fell to a mortified whisper. “Not without my drawers.”
Miles’s expression softened. He brought her hands to his lips. “There is no part of you I wouldn’t find beautiful.”
Nell’s heart swelled with yearning. She wished she could believe it. “But what if—”
“No more what-ifs.” Miles stood, drawing Nell gently to her feet along with him. He gazed down at her intently, his hands still holding hers. “Tell me, are you expecting Lady Belwood’s maid any moment?”
“No,” Nell said. “I…I told her she wasn’t needed.”
“Good,” Miles said. “Shall I help you undress?”
Heat flooded through her. She wondered, vaguely, if it was possible to blush all over? If so, she was surely doing so.
But she refused to be a coward.
Miles wasn’t a stranger any longer. He was her friend. Her partner. Her husband. All of which paled beside the fact that she’d been falling in love with him for days.
But no longer. She was in love with him. His integrity. His loyalty. His kindness. And not only that. She loved the way he held her and kissed her. The way he looked at her as if she were the single most important thing in the world.
She wanted more of it.
She wanted all of it.
“Yes,” she whispered.