Chapter Eight #4
“Miss Jane Whitsam, youngest daughter of the Duke of Laburnum.”
“The man is titled after a poisonous tree.”
Gwendolyn rolled her eyes. “You are not marrying a tree.”
“No, but you know what they say.”
“I have no idea what they say,” she grumbled, for his comments were making her head pound even worse than before.
“The acorn does not fall far from the tree.”
“Then it is a good thing Jane is not an acorn.” She sighed and leaned her head against his chest because the Madeira was sloshing about in her brain.
Milbury scooped her up in his arms. “It’s been a long day, Gwen. Time to put you to bed.”
“I can manage on my own.”
“Hardly,” he said with a chuckle. “You are not used to drinking, are you?”
“Only a glass or two of wine with supper at most,” she admitted, closing her eyes because it hurt to keep them open—plus she still had the hiccups.
“Let’s see if there is a back way to our rooms. You should not be seen in this condition.”
“Are you suggesting I am not fit?”
“My dear, you are pissed as a newt,” he intoned.
“I may be a little inebriated,” she admitted, wrapping her arms around a neck that smelled male and quite divine.
She told him so while accidently nuzzling it.
“More than a little inebriated, Gwen. I’m sorry that I drove you to it.”
“You can be quite stubborn and infuriating.”
“Yes, it is a fault of mine.”
Milbury found a back way out of their private dining room that avoided the common room, since it remained crowded and overflowing with diners. It was a good thing he had found the private hallway, because it would have been quite scandalous were she found in his arms.
“You have the nicest arms,” she said. “Strong and protective. Don’t let go of me, Milbury. I don’t think I can walk on my own.”
“I won’t. I have you.”
His voice was soft and deep, coating her in a velvet rumble.
“I have never in all my life been tipsy like this before. My stomach is churning.”
He gave a light laugh. “I’ll bet it is.”
“But you are quite wonderful,” she remarked, because she did not want to admonish him when he was being so patient and kind to her.
He was an excellent man and a prime catch for any young lady, and she was in no condition to hold herself above anyone at the moment. “Quite exceptional and wonderful.”
“Am I?”
“Yes, but I fear I have fallen off my pedestal. No longer the paragon you believed me to be.”
“No, Gwen, that you are obviously pickled and cannot stand on your own two feet has not changed my mind at all.”
“Oh, but that is not good. I cannot be your paragon, especially now that I am hiccuping and cannot walk a straight line.”
“You cannot walk at all. I am carrying you.”
“In your wonderfully strong arms.”
He groaned.
“You must not concern yourself with me. I shall recover.” She hiccupped again. “What is most important is that you give those ladies a chance to shine.”
“If you insist.”
“I do. I emphatically insist,” she said, and continued to chatter away as he strode down an interminably long hallway. She kept her arms wrapped around his neck and continued to breathe him in.
“What are you doing?”
“You smell awfully nice. Like sea breezes and spices. Have I told you that you are wonderful and have the nicest arms?”
“Repeatedly,” he said, his voice laced with mirth.
But Gwendolyn was not feeling mirthful because Andrew Clement should have been the one caring for her like this.
And yet she did not mind at all that it was Milbury holding her in his arms. In truth, she was almost glad of it.
“James…”
“Yes, Gwen?”
“I do not regret that we kissed.”
“Nor do I.”
“I wanted to kiss you ever so much but did not know how to ask you. And then you told me about Miss Pointy Nose and your lips were suddenly on mine. Or perhaps it was my lips that were suddenly on yours. I’m not sure how it happened, but I am glad it happened.
Was this too brazen of me? I think it was. ”
“If you say so.”
Her head bumped his chin as she raised it. “I do say so. But I hope you kiss me again. Will you kiss me again?”
“Yes, once you sober up.”
“I knew you were wonderful. Simply wonderful.”
Gwendolyn did not remember arriving at her room or what happened afterward, only that she woke up in her bed the following morning with the sun glaring in her face and a hammer pounding between her ears. “Oh, heavens.”
Agatha scurried to her side, annoyingly bright and cheerful. “Isn’t it a gorgeous day for travel?”
“I thought we would have rain today,” Gwendolyn muttered, ignoring the pounding hammer as she stirred awake.
“We had quite the downpour last night. Did you not hear it, m’lady?”
“No, I slept soundly.” She also must have been snoring, for her mouth was horribly dry and her breath smelled like rotten cabbage.
“The roads might be muddy,” Agatha went on while fussing about the room. “But they’ll soon dry off under the heat of the sun.”
“What time is it?”
“Just past seven, m’lady.”
Gwendolyn glanced down at herself and saw she had on her nightgown. “Who got me out of my clothes?”
Agatha stared at her as though not comprehending.
“Why, you did, m’lady. I was in the kitchen giving my gown and the one you are to wear today a quick freshening when you must have returned to our chamber.
You were already in your nightgown and fast asleep when I came back in, so I took yesterday’s gown and shoes to the kitchen for a quick freshen and polish. ”
“Oh, yes. I remember now.” But she really did not, and the most awful realization crept into her head.
Had Milbury undressed her?