Page 27 of Irresistible
Well, of course she should have done. Instead, she’d just stood there like a halfwit. “Perhaps my brain is still affected from the cold.” That was utter nonsense.
His gaze held hers. “This is rather awkward, in spite of our planning. The sleeping in the same bed, I mean.”
“All of it, really.” The memory of his hands on her calves and feet a short while ago hadn’t made her feel awkward, however. She’d felt slightly dizzy and wholly wonderful. But itwasawkward because she shouldn’t feel that way. She couldn’t. “Thankfully the bed can easily support the entire household.”
Dougal laughed, showing his even, white teeth. “Just the same, I’d rather not invite them.”
“A wise decision.” Jess nervously chewed her lip. “I’d thought we would have to roll up a blanket to put between us.”
He walked around to his side of the bed. “We still can, if you like.”
She lifted a shoulder. “It isn’t necessary. I’m a tidy sleeper. I expect you won’t even realize I’m in the bed.”
His brow creased, but his gaze flickered with amusement. “What does it mean to be a ‘tidy sleeper’?”
“That was how my sisters described me when we shared the nursery. Their beds were always messy in the morning—pillows askew and coverlets twisted about. Half the time, Marianne had a foot or arm sticking out of the bed.”
“I see. Well, I am neither messy nor tidy, I suppose. I am known to throw the coverlet about or deliver a well-placed kick. If my older brother was to be believed.”
“Then I shall be glad there will be a wide berth between us.”
They both stood there, looking at the bed, hesitating. Finally, he pivoted and extinguished the lamp on the bedside table.
Jess turned, putting her back to him, and put out her lamp. When she heard the bed creak slightly with his weight, she slipped off her dressing gown and laid it over the end of the bed. Then she slid between the bedclothes.
“What did you make of the Chesmores?” Dougal asked.
“I don’t think I had time to form an opinion of Mr. Chesmore. I found their pet names…” She tried to think of a sufficient word.
“Amusing?” he suggested.
She smiled into the darkness. “Yes. ‘My knight,’” she mimicked, dropping her Welsh accent as she tried to emulate the high pitch of Mrs. Chesmore’s voice.
Dougal’s laughter shook the bed. “Well done. You’re quite good at this. Have you thought of a career on the stage? You’re able to memorize lines, and you have demonstrated a remarkable ability to act. I’d say you could make a go of it.”
She wanted to ask what he thought of her acting specifically, but didn’t dare. He was also very adept. Everything felt far more real than she’d imagined it would. She kept things light, which seemed the safest response. “I shall consider that if my spinsterhood proves tedious. Unless I’m fortunate enough to continue working for the Foreign Office.”
“I’d recommend you wait and see if you like this. We’ve barely begun.”
“True.” She paused, thinking of the mission ahead. “I do think Mrs. Chesmore may be inclined to invite us to stay. She was most attentive.”
“I would agree. Our primary goal tomorrow is to obtain that invitation and to have a tour of the house. That will allow us to know our battleground, so to speak. We should also try to learn how many servants are in the household—they are part of the field.”
Jess nodded, even though he couldn’t see her. That all made good sense. “We already know where their bedchamber is. And we can count two footmen, plus Polly and Ogelby.”
“There is also Mrs. Farr, who I am keen to meet. We must ascertain if she is trustworthy. It won’t do to just blurt to her that we are from the Foreign Office.”
“What if we can’t determine if she’s to be trusted?” Jess asked.
“We’ll conduct our investigation without revealing ourselves.” Dougal exhaled. “Learning the location of the Chesmores’ bedchamber was a stroke of good fortune. It gives me hope that Mrs. Chesmore’s lips are rather loose with information.”
“That’s the impression I have as well,” Jess said. “Naming the rooms also helps us keep track.”
“It does. I am curious who the other writers are.”
Jess was too. “I have to expect Shakespeare at the very least.”
Dougal chuckled. “I suspect you’re right.”
