‘Then I suggest you all make your way back to bed. The clock has just struck four; I will stay here another hour, which is probably as long as I can risk it without being seen leaving by some passing yokel on his way to the milking. Ackland, do you need helping to your room?’
Jethro got to his feet with a wince, but shook his head. ‘No, my lord, I’ll do if I go slowly.’
Hester watched as Susan and Maria left, fussing after the boy, then turned to Guy with a rueful smile. ‘Thank you. I am sorry I suspected you, and I am sorry I was so cavalier with your offers of help.’
He smiled. ‘So long as you trust me now. But you will be careful, Hester-promise me? That character was at the foot of the stairs, I am sure on his way up. I suspect you would have woken to find those roses on the threshold of your bedchamber.’
‘Yes, I promise.’ She got to her feet, bone weary now the excitement was all over. ‘May I come with you to Winterbourne Hall? Two of us may observe more than one, and I have the excuse of enquiring after Miss Nugent’s health.’
‘A good idea. I will collect you-I said the day after tomorrow, but it is already almost morning, so it will be tomorrow-about two, if that is convenient.’
Hester nodded her agreement, smothering a cracking yawn behind both hands. ‘Oh, I beg your pardon! I am so tired.’
‘Goodnight, Hester.’ Guy gathered her into his arms and bent his head to kiss her brow, smoothing back the tumbled hair with a gentle hand. She let herself rest against him within the circle of his arm, safe and warm. Her body, unfettered by stays or petticoats, fitted against his hard, lean frame as if it had been made to measure for his embrace. This was so right. Against her closed lids the darkness was velvety black and she was sinking.
‘Up you come, sweetheart.’ Hester was sleepily aware of being lifted and snuggled against Guy’s chest. She uttered a muffled mutter of protest. He should put her down, of course, this was outrageous, surely she was too heavy to he carried upstairs like this.
‘My lord!’ That was Maria, she thought dreamily with a smile, turning her face into the soft linen of his shirt. ‘You cannot go in there!’ It seemed Guy was taking no notice, for she was deposited on to her own bed and the covers pulled up snugly around her shoulders. ‘Out this minute!’ A hand brushed her hair with a light caress.
‘Go’night,’ she murmured, but the door closed with a click and sleep claimed her.
It was late when she woke that morning; the sun was streaming through the unshuttered window and the house was silent. In the road outside she heard the passing of a herd of cattle, their complaining lowing punctuated by the sharp barking of the dogs.
Hester pushed her hair out of her eyes, and sat up against the pillows. Distantly she heard the church clock strike nine.
Why did she feel so very happy? She let her mind wander over the events of the previous night. It should have been terrifying, but as she recalled it she was aware that her mouth was curved in a smile and her heart was warm with contentment.
Guy was innocent of the ingenious persecution that had so puzzled and frightened her. She had an ally, a friend. The smile deepened as she recalled those last, sleepy moments as he carried her up to bed so tenderly; the trust she had felt, curled up on the chaise in the dark room, talking with him in whispers.
But it was more than tenderness that Guy Westrope was capable of. Hester’s own hands fisted on the edge of the sheet as she remembered the strength with which he had disarmed her, the explosion of controlled force as he attacked the intruder.
Hester shivered, closed her eyes. If they had been alone in the house last night, alone as he had carried her up to her bed-would she have felt so very sleepy then? Or would she have pulled him down beside her? The bed seemed to dip, her hands unclenched and reached out. ‘Guy.’
‘Hester dear.’ The tapping at her door jerked her rudely out of the dream.
‘What? I mean, come in, Maria.’ Her companion peeped round the door and Hester, rubbing the sleep, and
the disturbing dream, out of her eyes, reflected that she looked exactly like a nervous hen peering out of the coop to make sure the fox had gone. She came right into the room and Hester saw she was fully dressed, although she still wore her nightcap with curl papers protruding at the front.
‘Are you awake, dear?’
‘Yes, just. We have been lie-abeds, Maria, but I think we may be excused after last night’s excitement. Is Susan up yet?’
‘She has just gone down to make up the range and to see the drawing room is as it should be in case we get any morning callers. Jethro is still asleep, I am glad to say.’ She went to look out of the window at the ugly red bulk of the Old Manor opposite. ‘His lordship is a most determined gentleman, is he not? I do not feel I was firm enough with him last night, but what can one do?’
‘And he is so very large, is he not?’ Hester added mischievously, recalling Miss Prudhome’s diminutive frame against Guy’s height.
‘Exactly! When he was carrying you upstairs last night- so very shocking, but he took not the slightest notice of me- I felt a positive thrill of awe at his strength. It was just like a medieval romance, or one of Sir Walter Scott’s stirring poems.’
‘Why, Maria, I do declare you are half in love with our noble neighbour,’ Hester teased, laughing at her companion’s look of outrage. ‘Oh, I am sorry, that was a most improper observation.’
Miss Prudhome’s expression softened. ‘It would be an unfeeling woman indeed who did not admire such a man at the height of his powers, providing he is a Christian, gallant gentleman. And it is so very comforting to have such a capable champion to hand, given our troubles.’ She put her hand on the door knob. ‘Shall I ask Susan to bring up hot water now?’
‘Yes, please.’ Alone again, Hester sat up and curled her arms around her knees. She had been jesting with Maria, but she had an uncomfortable suspicion that someone in the house was in danger of falling in love with the Earl of Buckland and that person was staring back at her from the reflection in the cheval glass in the corner of the bedchamber.
Susan bustled in with the ewer. ‘Good morning, Miss Hester. Which gown would you like this morning?’
‘Oh, just the dimity for now. I think I might drive into Tring this afternoon-I never did buy Maria’s wool and I expect there are a number of other things we need.’ Hester hopped out of bed, feeling invigorated by the thought of some shopping, even though she suspected the small town would have few really tempting shops.