Page 23 of Persuasions of an Earl's Daughter

The way he looked so harried, his hair tousled, his clothing crinkled, and the stamp of confusion between his brows, made something inside her soften. The last time she’d seen such a look was when her brother-in-law spent the night pacing outside her sister Clementine’s door as she gave birth to their son.

He set the tray down on the table next to the bed and clumsily spooned too much sugar into a cup then poured the liquid until it sloshed over the rim.

Mrs. Lambert tutted. “Perhaps you should make yourself a cup first and take several sips before you see to your wife’s.”

“Right.” August gulped down the tea before pouring another cup. “It’s two sugars, is it not, uh, darling?”

Lilly resisted the desire to pinch the bridge of her nose. She supposed it was better their host presumed they were husband and wife lest she throw them out for being unwed, but to pretend to use endearments was a stretch.

“Yes, darling,” she mimicked. “Two sugars.”

“Well, there is little more I can do,” Mrs. Lambert declared and drew the blanket high up to Lilly’s chin. “Light a fire and lie with your wife, Mr. Musgrave, and when she is settled, you can join me for supper.” She looked to Lilly. “I think he is in need of something warm and filling, love. He’s not as strong as you are.”

The temptation to tease him about how pale he looked was only defeated by the fact she had been lying in front of him in next to nothing.

“Husband?” she whispered when Mrs. Lambert left the room and closed the door.

He shrugged. “Seemed easier than explaining what we are.”

“And what is that?”

August hesitated. She couldn’t figure out what they were either. Most especially not after he had come to rescue her and held her so tight against his chest as he murmured reassuring words of how close to help, they were and reminders of her own strength. It didn’t seem like something practical strangers did for a person.

“Vague acquaintances?” he suggested.

That told her, she supposed. Even after what he’d done for her, they were nothing to one another. She didn’t want to ponder why that left a strange, empty feeling in her chest. “Well, I still think you’re behind the theft of my horse.”

His jaw flexed. “It should have been mine.”

“Enemies then?”

He gave a sharp nod. “Enemies,” he agreed.

∞∞∞

“Your wife is still cold, Mr. Musgrave.” The tiny woman pushed past August, forcing him closer to the bed and saving him from any further response.

What else could he say anyway? She thought him terrible enough to engineer the theft of a horse and putting it in danger of harm. And the bloody woman had caused him enough trouble to give him a throbbing headache that threatened to splinter into something worse if she didn’t start behaving. She showed no remorse over her recklessness, no concern over the fact he feared he might find her dead at the side of the road. While she might not have orchestrated her own kidnapping, if she hadn’t ridden off in the first place neither of them would be in this situation.

“Why do you not keep her warm while I bring in some logs from outside?” Mrs. Lambert shook out a thick blanket and lay it over Lilly, who had yet to cease glaring at him.

“I can do that,” he said absently.

“I cannot very well embrace your wife, Mr. Musgrave.” She tugged back the edge of the blanket and indicated for him to climb in next to Lilly.

August broke the connection with Lilly and peered down at the woman who gestured impatiently. He opened his mouth and closed it when he spied the determined set of Mrs. Lambert’s jaw. All he’d wanted to do was make a deal to buy a damned horse and now here he was, being ordered about by two stubborn women.

Lilly shook her head marginally, her dark eyes wide. A gray cast lingered in her skin and shadows were tucked under her eyes. She kept her jaw tight, and he might have mistaken it for annoyance at him had he not heard the slight rattle of the wood bedframe as she shuddered.

For Christ’s sake.

Under the watchful eye of Mrs. Lambert, he pulled off his boots and inched onto the narrow bed. He lay flat on his back, tucked his arms beside himself, and bunched his fists at his side.

Mrs. Lambert tucked them both in with a laugh. “Well, she will not get warm if you just lie there like that, Mr. Musgrave.”

He’d never felt more ridiculous in his life. Holding back a multitude of curses, he rolled onto his side and inched an arm toward Lilly’s shoulder where he let his hand rest. It was enough to satisfy Mrs. Lambert it seemed, and she scuttled off.

“You didn’t need to get in bed with me,” Lilly said.

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