Page 73 of Every Rake Has A Silver Lining

Safe? She hadn’t felt safe for the last twenty-three years of her life, which, considering she was nine-and-twenty, was an exceedingly long time. Long enough to sense warning signs and slip into her armor of self-protection at the first hint of danger.In truth, she wore it almost constantly. Yet, something not only in Simon’s words, but his tone led her to believe—oddly—it was true.

It was a foreign feeling, like being in a strange country and not knowing the customs and rules of behavior.

Simon, on the other hand, seemed to have no qualms about forging into the heart of the unknown, dangerous or not.

Pushing the uncomfortable thoughts from her mind, she followed him into the inn.

“Good evening, my good man!” Simon greeted the innkeeper with a dazzling smile. Did candlelight actually glint off the man’s teeth? “My wife, my servants, and I require your best rooms for the night.”

Simon signed the register while the innkeeper retrieved the keys.

“Our best is number three, sir. For you and your good lady.” The innkeeper laid down three keys on the counter.

“We shall require one more room,” Charlotte said.

The man frowned. “Beg pardon, my lady?” He pointed at each key as if she were an imbecile. “One for your man servants, one for your lady’s maid, and one for you and your husband.”

“That is unacceptable. My husband and I require separate rooms.”

When the man shook his head, Charlotte’s stomach dipped. “I have no more rooms.”

Simon continued to grin like a dolt. “It’s fine, my good fellow. We will make do.” After handing Mr. Brown and Rose the keys for rooms four and five, he took Charlotte by the elbow. “Upstairs, now,” he whispered. “Don’t make a scene.”

Charlotte jerked out of Simon’s grasp. “Perhaps you can stay with the other men.” However, when Mr. Brown opened number four and Charlotte peeked inside, the bed only appeared large enough for two people, and neither Simon, Mr. Brown, nor the footman were small men.

“I will not ask one of these fine men to sleep on the floor. Not when a perfectly good bed that will hold twomarriedpeople awaits in the other room. Unless you would rather share it with Rose and allow me to take number five?”

Share a room with a servant! Who did Simon think she was? Honoria?! Charlotte darted a glance at Rose, who seemed no more eager to share a room with her employer than Charlotte did with her.

To assist in her decision, Simon opened number three. Lushly appointed for a posting inn, it boasted a large canopied bed, a small settee, and even a writing desk. A cozy fire burned in the hearth as if waiting only for her. She exhaled a sigh.

“Very well.” She chewed her bottom lip—a nasty habit she’d been punished for as a child. But the settee gave her an idea.

Simon dropped his valise on the bed. “I’ll go request some food for all of us while Rose makes you comfortable.”

He stepped out, closing the door behind him with a soundclick.

All Charlotte could concentrate on was the bed.

Rose cast her gaze down to the floor, her mouth curving suspiciously.

“I can see you thinking, Rose. But you would be advised to keep whatever it is to yourself. Now ready me for bed.”

“Yes, my lady.” And although Rose turned around to unpack Charlotte’s nightrail from her traveling bag, the smile in her voice was unmistakable.

Yes. The settee would be a perfect solution.

CHAPTER 20

After Simon ordered plates of food brought to each of the three rooms, he pulled out his pocket watch. Only fifteen minutes had passed since he’d left Charlotte. He spent a few more minutes chatting with the innkeeper, assuring him all was well and the rooms were more than adequate.

In fact, the room he and Charlotte shared was more than adequate, and his mind wandered to the comfortable poster bed filling half the room. So many pleasant things awaited on that bed.

Back upstairs, he raised his fist to knock, paused but a moment, and decided to make a small change to his announced return.

Knock, knock.“Charlotte, it’s Simon. Are you indecent?” He chuckled to himself and pressed an ear to the door, waiting for her vexed reply.

“I’m—what?!”

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