Regency Collection 2013 Part 1. Louise AllenЧитать онлайн книгу.
least a baron.’
The room was definitely beginning to blur and he could feel his eyelids drooping. ‘But why?’
‘So my sons will be gentlemen, of course.’
Lily saw Jack had lapsed into unconsciousness again and sat watching him blankly for a while. In the space of a day she had lost her betrothed, and very probably her reputation, and had gained one decidedly large and disturbing house guest. She doubted that Aunt Herrick would consider it a very good bargain.
Had she really let him kiss her? Try as she might, she could hardly dismiss that as being due to the shocks of the day. And yet she had felt unable to resist. The sensations that strange caress had evoked were far more powerful than Adrian’s hot embraces had been. At least Jack Lovell showed no sign of recalling it. Thank goodness.
And what to do with Mr Lovell? She could not send him back to his lodgings in the state he was in. But what if someone was waiting for him? She should have thought of that and asked him for his direction, rather than discussing her motives for wanting to marry Adrian.
Lily eyed his coat, which was looking considerably the worse for wear as it hung over the back of a chair. She could hardly search his pockets. But if someone was expecting him back they would be anxious by now. Tentatively she patted the coat, noting that it was at least two seasons out of style and, although well enough made, was certainly not by a London tailor. Something hard and flat in the inside breast pocket seemed promising and she fished out a notebook.
Scrupulously trying not to read anything, Lily flicked through the pages. Early on there was a list of inns with a mark against at least six of them. Not helpful. Then halfway through, the draft of an advertisement: … at the sign of the Green Dragon. Sliding the book back, she picked up the pile of clothes and tiptoed out.
Two hours later, Lily regarded the still figure anxiously across the small table she had ordered to be set up for her dinner. Doctor Ord’s strictures made her uneasy about leaving Mr Lovell to the care of one of the housemaids, as she had explained to her aunt. Mrs Herrick inspected the bandaged figure with a shudder, but pronounced it safe for her niece to be alone in the same room, provided she left the door ajar.
The soup in the bowl in front of her smelled delicious. Lily dipped in her spoon and began to sip, wondering what tomorrow would bring. Recriminations from her relatives over the end of her engagement, that was for sure. Aunt was probably on about the sixth outraged letter even now. And gossip to face wherever she went. Gossip about the hoax and just as much about Adrian. Would he behave like a gentleman and tell people that it was an amicable mutual decision? Somehow she doubted it.
‘Soupe de Cressy.’ The voice was so unexpected that Lily dropped her bread roll.
‘I had quite forgotten you were there,’ she apologised. ‘Oh no, you should not move.’ But he was already hauling himself up painfully against the pillows. ‘Here, let me put another one behind you.’ That was intimately close, she realised as she wedged a bolster down behind the broad shoulders.
Now that Jack Lovell was sitting up she was all too aware that, except for the bandages, he was naked. Her hand stilled, an inch from the skin of his shoulder. She had never felt the slightest temptation to touch Adrian, although she had admired his beauty. Why now did she want to run her hands over the scarred brown body of this man? His hair, released from the cord that had confined it, touched his shoulders. It was deeply unfashionable when severe crops were all the rage, yet profoundly masculine in its thick vigour.
Lily straightened up, hastily. ‘There. How do you feel? Would you like some soup?’
He caught her wrist in his hand as she turned for the bell pull. ‘Thank you, I would welcome that. However, I cannot get up while you are having your own dinner.’
The long hard fingers encircled her wrist easily. Lily was not used to regarding herself as particularly slender, and certainly not fragile, but the grip made her feel both. She glanced down, her mouth dry, and he released her.
‘You are certainly not going to get out of bed this evening, Mr Lovell.’ She tugged the bell and retreated to her table.
‘Miss France, I insist.’
Blake appeared and they spoke at once.
‘Please fetch me my clothes …’
‘A bowl of soup, some bread and some wine for Mr Lovell.’
‘Miss France? The clothes the gentleman was wearing today are being cleaned.’ The footman turned towards the bed. ‘Mr Fakenham has set Percy to unpacking and pressing your other things, sir. He has instructed him to act as your valet while you are with us, sir.’
The dark grey eyes did not show much gratitude for this arrangement. Lily intervened. ‘Mr Lovell’s supper, please, Blake. At once.’ The footman effaced himself.
‘What other things, precisely, Miss France?’
‘Your luggage from the Green Dragon. I thought it best to have it removed and your account settled. They know where you are in case there are any replies to your advertisement,’ she added hastily when the dark brows drew together.
‘And how did you discover my direction?’
‘From your notebook. I had to check, I had no idea if anyone would be waiting for you, expecting you back. And I did not read anything, I only skimmed through to find some clue as to your lodgings. Now, please rest. I am going to eat my soup before it gets cold.’
‘I cannot stay here.’
‘Why not, for goodness’ sake?’ Lily put down her soup spoon impatiently. ‘You have had a very nasty blow to the head, the doctor says you must rest, and this is much better for you than staying in that cheap inn.’
‘You are a single lady and I am not in need of charity.’ For some reason he seemed to be becoming positively annoyed.
‘I did not suggest that you were; you may certainly refund me whatever Percy expended at the Green Dragon. But if you think I am going to allow someone who has come to my aid not once, but twice, to nurse a bad head wound in some third-rate hostelry, you may think again, Mr Lovell.’
They glared at each other. ‘Miss France, you are in enough trouble with that business this morning, and ending your engagement to Lord Randall, without harbouring a down-at-heel mine owner in your bedroom.’
‘Who is to know?’ Lily shrugged. ‘And this is the spare bedroom, not mine, and you are not down at heel. Your hair may need cutting and your clothes are thoroughly out of fashion, but your boots are admirable.’
The grey eyes narrowed dangerously at this sweeping assessment, but much to Lily’s surprise he laughed. ‘I like to get my priorities right. Do you always get your own way, Miss France?’
‘I try to,’ Lily confessed. ‘I do not see the point of being extremely rich if one does not get the benefit from it.’
‘That is certainly frank! But money does not buy you everything.’ His smile was wry and Lily stiffened. Was he criticising her?
‘Most things it does,’ she retorted.
‘But not obedience from those who are financially independent of you—and I am. Please ring for your footman and my clothes, Miss France.’
‘No! I am not asking for your obedience, you exasperating man—just for you to show some common sense and do as the doctor orders!’
‘I will get up anyway.’ Jack gripped the edge of the bedclothes and sat up straighter.
‘You cannot—you haven’t got any clothes on.’
‘That is your problem, Miss France. Not mine.’ Jack Lovell tossed back the coverlet and blankets and tugged the sheet free where it had been tucked in. ‘Now, ma’am—am I going to have to find where my luggage is by myself, or are you going to ring for it?’
He was