Page 11 of The Marquess of Temptation
Once Jane had left, Hestia wandered into her bedroom, the aptly titled Lavender Room. The walls were covered with wallpaper that was patterned with little sprigs of the plant, and the bedsheets were a dusty lilac colour. Hestia threw herself down on the bed with a happy sigh, glad for the opportunity to relax her aching muscles. She must have fallen asleep, for she opened her eyes --what felt like only moments later-- to find the room in darkness. A loud rumbling filled the room and it took Hestia a second to realise that it was her stomach - she was famished. For a few minutes she debated whether to get up and see if there were any staff still in the kitchen that she might beg for a slice of bread, until another loud rumble decided her.
"I'll wake the whole house if I don't," she reasoned, as she slipped out into the dark hallway. Luckily she had been too exhausted to undress, so she did not mind the chill of the night air. Hawkfield Manor was enormous - Hestia found her way back to the main entrance hall, but from there was unsure what direction to take.
"The kitchens are always at the back of the house," she thought, deciding to take corridor to her right, which looked promising enough. There was not a soul to be seen in the dark hallway, leaving Hestia to wonder what time it was. Judging by the echoing silence of the house, it was well after midnight and everyone --staff included--was in bed.
The hallway became less grand as she walked down it, and at the end she turned a corner and found the kitchens. A low fire still burned in the grate, illuminating the enormous room which was lined with shelves stuffed full of crockery and cooking utensils. A set of doors toward the back of the room led to the pantry, where Hestia gratefully stole some dry bread and a small lump of cheese. She was hungrily swallowing her makeshift sandwich, when a low, droll voice spoke, startling her.
"You wouldn't be so hungry if you hadn't skipped dinner."
Hestia turned and found the Marquess of Falconbridge standing behind her, his face a picture of amusement. He was undressed, well as undressed as Hestia had ever seen him, his shirt sleeves rolled up and his cravat removed, revealing a tantalising glimpse of tanned skin.
"I didn't skip dinner," she whispered waspishly once she had swallowed the chunk of bread in her mouth. "I had a migraine."
The Marquess did not reply, merely raised his eyebrows in a condescending manner that implied he thought her lying.
"Oh," Hestia growled, "You are insufferably conceited if you think that I avoided dinner just because of you."
"Did I say that?" Falconbridge's eyes were dancing with laughter, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "I wasn't aware that I had spoken at all."
"You didn't speak," Hestia agreed, feeling flustered at his cool composure. Her own cheeks were staining red, both from his cool, arrogance and the almost insolent way his eyes watched her. "But, then you didn't need to speak, for your expression said it all."
"I do apologise," he replied, though he sounded anything but sorry, "I shall have to make sure that my facial muscles remain completely impassive in your company, lest I offend you."
"You don't offend me," Hestia, who felt completely out of her depth protested, "You--you--you--"
Lord Delaney remained silently watching her as she trailed off, unable to put into words what it was that he made her feel. The expression of amusement in his eyes was replaced by one of kindness and he reached out a hand to gently touch her arm.
"Come," he said patiently, "You shouldn't be out of bed at this hour --thank goodness it was I who found you and not a groom or some other man with unsavoury intentions."
Hestia wanted to reply, she wanted to ask him why it was that he was out wandering the halls of Hawkfield Manor in the middle of the night, but the touch of his skin against her bare arm had left her breathless and she was unable to speak. She followed the Marquess as he led her down the hallway to the entrance hall, where he left her at the bottom step of the staircase.
"I trust you will find your way from here," he said with a curt bow.
"I will. Thank you, my Lord," she responded stiffly, her mind exhausted from the late hour and the torrent of emotions that were pouring through her. She turned from him and began to slowly climb the stairs, only pausing at the sound of his voice.
"Miss Bowstock?" he called and when she turned she saw that he was smiling. "I hope that I will see you at breakfast in the morning. You are far too thin as it is, I won't stand for you skipping meals."
"You won't stand?" Hestia could feel her ire rising again, but then she saw that he was laughing and she knew that he was deliberately trying to rise her.
"Goodnight, my Lord," she said firmly, trying to resist the smile that was threatening to crack her cool exterior. She did not wait to hear his reply, instead she turned and hurried up the staircase, feeling so light that she almost thought she had grown wings.
