Page 25 of If the Duke Dares
“In London during the Season, perhaps.” He’d done that more times than he could count. “I must confess my mattress did not promote comfortable rest.”
“I would have thought a duke’s accommodation would be superior to mine.”
“Well, I do have one more chair at my table,” he quipped. “Does your dresser list to one side and rattle horribly if you attempt to open a drawer? I say attempt because they stick and are rather difficult to pry open.”
“My dresser ismissinga drawer.” Her features were impassive, but her eyes held a hint of mirth.
“Well, then, it seems we are somewhat equally matched. We could still move to the New Inn. I don’t mind paying for your lodging.”
“I know you don’t, but I can’t accept that from you.”
“You accepted the other things I purchased for you.” He’d hoped she might mention them last night. She’d clearly taken the bath, for her hair had regained its shine and she’d smelled of some indistinct but intoxicating floral scent. And she’d obviously worn the gown he’d bought. He couldn’t imagine she’d forgone the bedclothes. She might be stubborn as hell, but he didn’t take her for a fool.
She blinked at him, appearing nonplussed. “What things are those?”
She really didn’t know? He hadn’t included a note or anything, nor had he asked anyone who’d delivered the items to inform her who’d paid for them. That had seemed gauche.
“I paid for a bath to be delivered,” he said. “I also purchased sheeting for your bed and that lovely gown you were wearing last night.”
“Oh, that was you? I did wonder. Did you also arrange to have this gown laundered?” She glanced down at herself. “I do appreciate that, because I hadn’t wanted to accept the blue gown, but since the maid took mine, I had no choice. I did wish to return the gown and the undergarments from whence they came. I did not wear the latter.”
She hadn’t? He’d chosen the items with care and discernment. “Was the sizing wrong?” He frowned.
“The gown was short, but perhaps you didn’t notice last night amidst the cacophony down here. I have no idea if the undergarments fit.” She pursed her dainty pink lips at him. “It’s awfully presumptuous of you to purchase any of that, particularly something so…intimate as underclothing.”
“I was trying to help. You are incredibly stubborn.”
“I don’t wish to accept gifts from a man who isn’t related to me. If that makes me stubborn, so be it. I think it makes me smart to avoid potential scandal.”
He gaped at her. “You are gallivanting about western England unchaperoned, and you want to congratulate yourself on avoiding scandal?” He couldn’t help it; he laughed.
Becky came to the table bearing a tray. “I’ve yer breakfast, Mrs. Birdwhistle.” She turned to Acton immediately. “Good morning, Mr. Loxley. Can I bring ye some eggs and mayhap a steak?”
He smiled broadly at her. “Whatever you have would be divine, thank you, Becky.”
“Always flirting,” Miss Barclay muttered.
As the maid moved away, Acton looked over at Miss Barclay. “I’m being kind and polite. You twist everything to be a mark against me. Not that flirting is a bad thing.”
“Ask your future duchess what she thinks about that.”
He flinched inwardly. His wife might, in fact, feel slighted if he continued to flirt with women. But should he care? His father had told him from a young age that wives were necessary, but he needn’t be faithful. Acton had known his father wasn’t loyal to his wife, but why would he be when she’d left him to live separately? What Acton didn’t know, and honestly hadn’t thought of, was whether his mother had been faithful. The fact that she’d dressed in mourning for six months following his father’s death seemed to indicate she may have been, but he didn’t think he would ever ask her.
“Your point is taken,” he said softly. He flicked a glance at her covered tray. “I presume you’re taking that upstairs? Is there any way I could persuade you to break your fast here with me? There’s no one here but us, and you won’t have to carry that upstairs.”
She hesitated, then cast a look toward the stairs. He could have sworn he heard her stomach rumble. When she pulled the cover off the tray, he wondered if that had been the deciding factor—her hunger had won out. He doubted it was the lure of his company.
As she took a few bites of her eggs, her brow furrowed. Swallowing, she gave him an intent look. “You seem to think I enjoy the situation I find myself in. I didn’t choose my current predicament. I took the first coach I could from Cirencester in order to get away from my parents before they could awaken and stop me. It just so happened to go to Gloucester. Then I took the wrong coach, which put me completely out of the wayandmy valise was stolen.”
She’d been through more than he’d realized. “It’s just as well you have someone to help. A friend, even.”
“We are not friends.” She poured tea from the pot on her tray into the cup. “I shouldn’t be confiding in you at all.”
“I’m glad you are as I have appointed myself your personal protector.”
She splashed tea over the side of her cup. “Mywhat? I am not, nor will I ever be your mistress.”
Acton grimaced, hating that he’d said something so stupid and caused her to spill her tea. “‘Protector’ was a poor word choice. My apologies. I am ensuring your safety.”
