Page 22 of Lady Louisa and the Carriage Clock
After her eyes adjusted to the low light, she opened the curtains on both windows, settled on her bed, and propped the pillows behind her head so she could sit up a bit. Her stomach didn’t bother her as much if she didn’t lie down.
Although bored and not remotely tired, she stayed where she was and did not light her lamp or a candle.
She didn’t know how long she’d been reclining on her bed when she heard her bedchamber door open. It was hard to tell who slipped into the room, but due to the person’s height, she was sure it was a male, probably one of her brothers. What would they want in her bedchamber?
Louisa lay still until the man walked to the side of the bed, and she could make out his profile. The smell of a familiar spicy cologne enveloped her. It wasn’t one of her brothers in the room. It was Lord Wycliffe!
“Oh my!”
The viscount quickly leaned in and placed a hand lightly over her mouth.
“Lady Louisa,” he whispered. “Do not be alarmed. I am not here to harm you.”
She went still, disconcerted by his nearness, feeling her limbs grow warm. She should be angry, not swooning at his touch. Upset with her reaction to his presence, Louisa tried unsuccessfully to bite his hand.
“If you promise not to scream, I will explain all.”
Louisa nodded her agreement, and Lord Wycliffe removed his hand.
“Shall I light a candle?” she asked in a low voice.
“Please do.” He stood up and away from the bed.
Louisa sat up and lit the candle on her night table. When done, she turned, startled to see the viscount still standing near her bed. He was far too close. He must have realized it and took a step back. She nodded to the nearby stuffed chair.
“You know I can still scream at any time,” she said as he took a seat.
“Then you will never discover the true importance of your clock,” he replied calmly, folding his hands in his lap, appearing as relaxed as if they were having tea together in a drawing room. “Your carriage clock has ties to the Rogue’s Alliance.”
If the clock did have a connection to the RA, it would explain his interest in it. She could think of no reason he would lie about the timepiece.
“So you are in my bedchamber to steal the clock?” she felt her cheeks heat when she said 'bedchamber.'
He hesitated before replying with a shrug, “I am.”
“And you see no problem with sneaking into Carstairs?” She raised her chin and crossed her arms over her chest.
“You weren’t supposed to be home,” he answered blandly.
“So you’re spying on me as well.” She shook her head. “Your audacity knows no bounds.”
He merely replied, “I will do anything necessary to bring about the downfall of the Rogue’s Alliance.”
Lord Wycliffe said the words starkly, and she believed him. As it appeared the viscount wasn’t going to apologize for his actions, she asked, “How is my clock connected to the RA?”
Her gaze remained on his handsome face. It was an excuse to look at the viscount as long as she wanted. Of course, she was merely studying him closely to see if she could tell if he spoke the truth.
“The riddle of the clocks, when solved, lead to the founders of the Rogue’s Alliance.”
She gulped. “You’re serious?”
“Would I jest about the RA?” he asked with a raised brow.
“I believe I know you well enough to know you wouldn’t.”
She felt heat on her cheeks again and hoped it was too dark in the room for him to notice.
“For now, the RA doesn’t appear in any hurry to acquire your clock. Perhaps they deem it useless without its companion. I need to examine the clock, so here I am.”
