Montague surveyed her from beneath his lank blond hair. "Doing it a little too brown, my precious," he murmured. "Dodson has a fondness for you, and he disapproves of all this. I expect he'd like nothing better than to keep you out of it. "
"My l
ord!" Dodson looked genuinely shocked.
"Oh, go away, Dodson. And when the vicar shows
one has arranged for a housekeeper for him. " "Someone has," Dodson said with real dignity.
Since Dodson served as Montague's valet, butler and social secretary, that someone was certainly he.
"Milady, would you care for a cup of a tea, or a glass of wine, perhaps?"
Lina smiled pleasantly. If she was to spend the night by Montague's side and not in bed with one of
the Heavenly Host, then she had no need to drink. "Tea would be lovely. And a cold supper? Bring enough for his lordship. "
"I don't want any demmed food," Monty said fretfully. "Unless you can bring me a sirloin and a pint of ale. "
'A good beef broth, I think. ” Lina said, ignoring him. "With some barley water. "
"Barley water? Faugh!" He fixed a glared on both of them. "You may as well kill me now. If Dodson can send for Adrian Rohan instead, you may return to the Revels. Yes, I know you had your eye on him for this occasion, but my needs take precedence. Adrian will understand I can't bear such pig swill. "
"Viscount Rohan will be just as strict, my lord," Dodson said. "No one wishes you to die. "
A spasm of coughing shook Monty's frail body, and the he lay back against the pillows, exhausted, two bright spots of color on his cheeks. "Do you what you want. " His feint voice was querulous. "I don't have the will to fight you. At this rate you'll plague me to death. "
"Indeed, I hope not, sir," Dodson said with great dignity before retiring.
There was silence for a moment. The tall windows were open to the cool night air, and in the distance Lina could hear music floating over the water, accompanied by the sound of laughter. And because no one would notice, she breathed a sigh of relief. At least tonight she could be at peace.
"You're terrible to poor Dodson," she said.
Monty sighed. "Yes, I am, aren't I? It never seems to bother him. " He paused, his long thin fingers plucking at the quilt covering his frail body. "You'll see to him, won't you, Lina? I've made what arrangements I could, but I worry about the old thing. "
Author: Anne Stuart
"Don't be ridiculous," she chided him. "Dodson's twice your age—you'll outlive him by decades and then you're the one in trouble. You'll never find anyone willing to put up with you the way that brave soul does. ”
Monty smiled faintly, but didn't bother to argue with her. Instead, he turned his head to look toward the abbey ruins. The moon was bright overhead, the two spires of the ruined abbey stood stark against the night sky. "It's a beautiful night, Lina," he said. "You know, I hate to admit it, but I'd rather be here with you than romping between the sheets with some lovely young thing. So would you. "
She didn't bother denying it—he knew her too well. Though there were times when she wondered how many others saw through her fevered gaiety. Charlotte, for certain. There were doubtless others.
"There will be other nights to romp, Monty," she said, touching his thin hands.
Monty turned his hand over and clasped hers with weak affection. "More's the pity, love," he murmured.
1 he moon had come out. In the distance Charlotte could hear the strains of music. There had been a small orchestra set up near the dais, and the music, simple and slightly sinuous, snaked its way into her consciousness. She could see Rohan a bit too clearly from beneath her enveloping cowl, and she swallowed nervously, unconsciously flexing her bare toes in the grass as she walked.
He held her hand. It was unnerving—she couldn't remember ever having held a man's hand outside of dancing. When she was young, her father had certainly never bothered with her enough to hold her hand, and all the servants who'd looked after her were female. Being a short-sighted, overgrown, ginger-haired and befreckled creature, she had obviously never excited the interest of a gentleman enough for him to take her hand.
In fact, disposing of Rohan's company would be quite simple. All she had to do was drop the cowl to her shoulders and let him see just who he'd managed to capture. He'd drop her hand as if burned.
That was only as a last resort. His grasp was light, casual. She didn't doubt his fingers could tighten very swiftly, but the longer she allowed her hand to remain in his the more his guard would likely drop.
He wore no gloves. Neither did she. Another shocking circumstance—she'd barely touched anyone without layers of kid leather between them, back when she'd attempted to dance. She'd never been fond of gioves, except for riding or gardening. They made her palms itch.
But she could suddenly see the wisdom of them for social occasions. There was something so. . . intimate about skin on skin, flesh on flesh. His fingers, warm and strong, wrapped around her unresisting ones.