Page 104 of Winterset
I’d been awake for hours, eager to hear every detail of Oliver’s ghost-story reading, but I’d forced myself to lay in bed until the sun had risen to allow Oliver to rest after his late night spent entertaining. I also did not want to appearovereager.
What I would have given to attend last night—to have heard him read the passage we’d selected, to have been seated beside him as we’d eaten the delicious meal we’d planned, and to kiss his sweet lips after all our guests had left. I would have worked for a month, ayear! I would have even allowed Mrs. Owensby to style my hair.
But Oliver’s recounting of the night would have to suffice.
I pushed back the covers, shivering against the cold, and quickly donned my slippers and dressing gown. I felt along the wall until I found the handle and pushed open, or rather,triedto push open the door. But it didn’t budge. I tried again, this time pressing my shoulder into the door. It opened only an inch, then snapped shut with the heaviness of something blocking it.
My heart picked up its pace, panicked at being trapped in such a small, dark place.
I took a steadying breath and made myself think logically. Could something have fallen in front of the door? Maybe I needed to use some force to move it out of the way.
I planted my feet on the floor, and using all my strength, I gave the door a hefty push. This time, it easily swung open, and I fell through the threshold into Oliver.
His arms came around me as I fell forward, and we ended up in something of a dipped embrace.
I blinked up at him. Sun streamed through the window behind him, highlighting his golden curls. Hismessygolden curls.
As he set me back on my feet, I took his measure: mussed hair, puffy eyes, rumpled clothes. The same clothes he’d worn last night, minus his coat and cravat, which had been removed and discarded in a pile by the door. He was usually so composed, so perfectly styled and put together; this morning, though, he was anything but.
I liked seeing him undone.
“Did yousleephere last night?” I asked.
“Against the door,” he confirmed. “I would not suggest it. Very uncomfortable, and I had quite a rude awakening.”
“You can hardly blamemefor that. I did not know you were there, and a door’s main purpose is to be opened, is it not?”
“Indeed, you are right. I only have myself to blame for this stiff shoulder.” He rolled his shoulders as if trying to drive away the pain.
I tried not to notice how the muscles in his arms bunched and flexed, but it could not be helped. I knew I should look away, but his arms were just ... so ... admirable in those thin shirt sleeves. I made myself meet his knowing gaze and forced the focus of our conversation back on him. “So ...whywere you sleeping outside my door?”
“I wanted to make sure you were safe.”
I smiled, pleased that he’d thought of me last night. “I am safe,” I assured him.
Oliver nodded, glancing over his shoulder. What was he looking for?
“Areyouall right?” I asked. “You seem out of countenance this morning.”
“Yes, well ... It’s just ...” He rubbed the back of his neck. “You should sit.” He led me to the main part of the attic and gestured to the lid of my trunk. He remained standing.
“You are worrying me.” And when he did not immediately start to assuage my fears, I knew something was wrong. Did something happen last night to make him regret our kiss?
“I have made a grave mistake, Kate. I invited Mr. Cavendish to the ghost-story reading.”
“Youwhat?”
“I didn’t know his true identity,” Oliver hastily explained. “You’d only ever called him Mr. Cavendish, and I knew him only as Lord Markham.”
I tried to make sense of Oliver’s confession. “You are sayingmyformer intended Mr. Cavendish isyournew friend?”
“I am.”
“You must be mistaken. Mr. Cavendish was not in line to inherit his father’s title. Could you have hosted his father or elder brother?”
Oliver shook his head. “Both his father and brother have passed away. Mr. Cavendish, Lord Markham, inherited the title sometime in the last two years.”
“How is this plausible? How, within the space of two short years, have three men—my father, his father, and his elder brother—close to Mr. Cavendish died?”
