Page 22 of Irresistible
“Can’t he go any faster?” Jess muttered.
Dougal suppressed a smile. “You can’t say things like that, even under your breath,” he muttered back.
“Sorry. I’m cold.”
“Are your teeth really chattering?”
“If I let them. I thought it might help.”
“It did seem to convince him.” Dougal noted that her face was pale and that her disguise was coming apart. “Your cosmetics are not faring well from the rain. I should have thought of that.”
“I was hoping my bonnet would shield me well enough, but toward the end, the rain was coming at a bit of an angle.”
He moved them so they were in a more shadowed area of the hall. “That’s the best I can do.”
“I’m sure it will be fine. Goodness, I amverycold.”
Footsteps sounded from nearby—faster ones than the butler had made—and a moment later, a man and woman, arm in arm, stepped into the entry hall. He was on the shorter side, with thick dark brows and a wide nose. She was nearly his height, with bright blonde hair and a fairly thin nose.
“Heavens, you are soaking wet!” Mrs. Chesmore declared, her blue eyes widening. “Ogelby said you had trouble with your gig. What a horrid time for that to happen. Thank goodness you found our house. Did you come far? It looks as though you’ve been out for hours.”
“I think the rain is just that hard, my dove,” Chesmore said, patting her forearm. He turned his dark assessing gaze on Dougal and Jess. “Are you far from your destination?”
“Our next stop was to be Poole,” Dougal said, aware that Jess was shaking beside him. “We are the Smythes. I’m afraid my wife is terribly chilled. Might we impose on you to warm up? I’ll need to go back out and fetch our things—the gig is not too far from your gatehouse, thankfully.”
Mrs. Chesmore took her arm from her husband’s. “Nonsense. You’ll both go warm up and stay the night. My knight will send grooms for your things and to take care of your gig and livestock.”
Dougal gave her a grateful smile. “One horse. Thank you. I tied him beneath a tree for some shelter, but I daresay he’s quite wet by now.”
Their hostess turned her head to her husband. “Sir Lancelot, if you would be so kind?”
Sir Lancelot? Dougal knew the man’s name to be Gilbert, and hers was Mary.
“I’ll see to it.” Chesmore took his wife’s hand and pressed a kiss to her wrist before departing the hall.
He passed the butler, who seemed to have finally found his way back. Did he truly walk that slowly?
“There you are, Ogelby,” Mrs. Chesmore said. “I am taking our guests, the Smythes, up to the Wordsworth Room.”
The Wordsworth Room? She called her husband a knight of the Round Table, and their bedchambers were named after poets? At least theirs would be. Dougal was fast gaining the impression their hosts possessed a fascinating eccentricity.
“Please have a bath prepared with due haste,” Mrs. Chesmore directed the butler. “We need to get the Smythes warmed up. I daresay Mrs. Smythe’s lips are turning blue.”
Dougal snapped his gaze to Jess’s mouth, but thankfully, they were no such thing, just slightly pale where the cosmetic had washed away. He put his arm around her. “We’ll get you cozy in no time, my love.” He brushed a light kiss against her temple. She smelled of roses and rain, a surprisingly delicious combination.
“Thank you, darling,” she murmured, laying her head against his shoulder.
Mrs. Chesmore smiled affectionately. “I’m so glad you happened upon us. How fortunate. Come, let’s get you upstairs.”
She led them into a staircase hall in the center of the house. The stairs climbed the left wall and turned at a landing on the back wall. At the top, they entered a wide gallery. “Wordsworth is just this way.”
“Are all the rooms named after poets?” Jess asked, her teeth clacking with cold.
Dougal was growing concerned. He wanted to get her warm, but he also couldn’t risk divesting her of the entire disguise in front of the servants. Hopefully, the bath and their trunks would arrive quickly.
“Not just poets, writers,” Mrs. Chesmore said with a warm smile that seemed to be her natural state.
Jess responded:
