Page 14 of The Lady Glass
Rolland stepped back. “By all means, sacrifice yourself.”
She glared and marched by him. She even leaned the opposite direction to avoid feeling anything toward Rolland that would lessen her ire. Because if she knew anything about herself, it was that the more frustrated she was, the more determined she became. She might have leaned too much to the side, though, especially while wearing Johan’s wife’s dress. Apparently she was not bruised enough from being plowed to the floor mere minutes earlier, because she tripped over herself. She saw the ground coming fast toward her but, miraculously, never felt it—thanks to a man who was both injured and extremely capable.
Rolland caught her arm, and in a rush, she was pulled back into his arms.
She stared up at his grim expression. “Do you see why I cannot stay here?” Her voice came out breathless. “This is the third time in the short duration since we’ve met that you have thrown yourself at me.”
He released her like a hot coal. “Usually when I save someone, they say thank you.”
She ran her hands down her skirt, her heart pounding fiercely once more. “Dare I thank someone for forcing me to remain in a condemning situation? Forgive me. I will just be on my way.” She took a step forward, and her ankle gave out. No hand came forward this time to stabilize her. Thankfully, she caught herself on the bed.
“Miss?” Granger stepped forward when Rolland did not move. It seemed she had effectively put the captain in his place.
“It’s not broken,” she said, putting weight on it once more. No, not broken, but it hurt enough to make balancing on her toes and scaling down a wall far scarier than it already was. She glanced out the window and then over at Rolland. “You will stay in the closet the entire time?”
In the short window she’d known the man, she’d witnessed a myriad of his emotions. This one she would guess to be exasperation. “You have my word.”
“That will have to be good enough.”
“I will go in search of a maid’s uniform,” Granger said. “And a coal bucket. If we are going to sneak you out of ’ere, we had best be thorough.”
She was glad there was someone thinking clearer than she was. It was apparent now that she should have had a backup plan. Why, oh why, had she thrown out all the rules of propriety that had been drilled into her for years?
After Granger slipped from the room, Rolland took one of the candles and opened the closet door. She squinted into the narrow area. It might be long enough for Granger to sleep in, butshe doubted Rolland would fit. And the two would have to lie like sardines to manage the width of it. “Perhaps I should take the closet. I am a great deal smaller.”
He looked at her over his shoulder—his injured one, if she remembered correctly. “I plan to put up my hammock, which I prefer to a bed anyway. And I am not letting a woman who refuses to even tell me her name steal my place of rest, even if she is an accomplished musician and wall climber. I do have my limits.”
Had he complimented her in the same breath as dismissing her? This was undoubtedly the most awkward situation she had ever been in. “The bed will suit me very well, thank you.” But she knew already that she would not sleep at all. How could she even close her eyes knowing that she was in a strange man’s bed? Especially since somewhere in the house could be her prized vase and only hope for the future?
Chapter 7
Rolland’s ship had many virtues,but it lacked a good library. Ashbury Court’s library more than made up for it. The room itself wasn’t the largest he’d seen, but it was the comfortable feeling he appreciated. It was soothing enough to make him want to fall asleep on his feet, now that he thought of it.
His attention wandered to the sizable fireplace with its large brick hearth. Above it sat a painting of a past duke, a pictorial overseer of the heavy-laden shelves of the finest literature. Yawning, Rolland glanced away from the painting to Lewis and Marcus.
Marcus had a perfectly good study and several spare rooms, but for some reason, he preferred the library for any and all of his business. He sat behind a desk at the end of the room, twirling a curl of hair behind his ear while scratching his pen across his paper. Rolland stood to the side, completely useless, thanks to the fatigue brought on by the whirlwind night he’d had.
He’d managed to distract his father’s guard by listing several of his safety concerns long enough for Granger to secret the violinist from his room just before dawn. She’d dressed in the borrowed maid’s gown and carried her own dress out in the coal bucket Granger had procured.
The whole thing had been straight out of a nightmare. Thank the stars she’d been able to attend to herself. But, curse her, she’d left her scent behind on his pillow, and he’d not managed any more sleep in her absence.
Lewis rocked his chair forward and peered over Marcus’s desk. “Are you making us a list of tasks for the party? Because, if you are, Captain Reese would be excellent at entertaining any matronly or elderly woman in attendance this month.”
“How amusing.” Rolland propped his elbow on a bookshelfand leaned into it, too tired to crack a smile. “Mr. Evan Lewis volunteers to entertain the gentlemen in a month-long chess tournament on the opposite side of the house from the ladies.”
Marcus flipped the list around and pushed it toward them. “My wife has gladly undertaken the entertainment, though I will pass on your ideas—if you can come up with any good ones. She is new to hosting, and we have handed her a formidable group. This, however”—he tapped the paper for them to see—“is for us.”
Lewis scooted his chair over, and Rolland pushed away from the bookshelf and stepped closer so he might read over Lewis’s shoulder. No sitting for him. He had learned in the line of duty that standing made him more alert. His eyes ran down the paper. It appeared to be a guest list he’d already memorized from a file Marcus had created for each of them. Research was another of the duke’s fortes.
Mr. and Mrs. Haversham and Miss Haversham
Mr. Hawke
Miss Penelope Yearsley
Lord Vernon
Mr. Stewart
