Page 69 of Counting on a Countess
“First, the goods have to get here,” Tamsyn reminded her. “There’s the matter of storing it all, keeping the servants and Lord Blakemere from finding out, and getting people to buy everything.”
Nessa clicked her tongue. “A worrier, you are.”
“If I don’t do it, who will?” Tamsyn glanced out the window. At least the first task was taken care of. And she’d done it without Kit’s knowledge. Or so she hoped.
She pressed a hand to her chest, pushing back against the thudding of her heart. All night, her thoughts had ricocheted back and forth between worry about securing a fence and reliving the kiss with Kit. It had been so potent, so seductive. Yet she couldn’t attribute her distraction to the alcohol clouding her brain. In truth, all of her intoxication had been because of him.
It reverberated throughout her body. She could still taste him.
Once she had gotten with child, she could return to Cornwall. He would have his heir, and she’d go home to run the smuggling. With her situated far away, he’d take lovers.
Everyone would get what they wanted.
Wouldn’t they?
Chapter 17
“Tamsyn.”
Her eyes closed, she muttered and stirred. It had taken her so long to fall asleep last night. Now a man kept saying her name, forcing her out of fitful dreams.
“Tamsyn, wake up.”
A hand rested on her shoulder, giving her a slight shake. Her eyelids dragged open, and Kit’s face swam into focus.
Several moments passed before she registered what this meant. Kit was in her room. He sat on the edge of her bed, pale morning sunlight filtering through the windows behind him.
Consciousness hit her like a slap. She pushed herself upright, then rubbed her face, forcing back the heavy smoke of lethargy. Something had to be wrong, or else why would Kit be in her bedchamber, fully dressed, and up at—she squinted at the clock on the mantel—six in the morning?
“What is it?” She scanned his face for some sign, something to indicate what was happening or a hint at his mood, yet his expression was opaque.
“Get dressed,” he said. “Quickly.” He stood and loomed over the bed.
“Tell me what’s going on,” she urged.
“A surprise,” he answered. “However, you must hurry. I’ll wait for you downstairs in the foyer.”
“I—”
But he was already striding out of the room, leaving her alone with her confusion.
She clambered out of bed and tugged the bellpull for Nessa. While she waited, she speedily took care of her morning needs, then began to wash.
As she worked a brush through her tangled hair, her thoughts tumbled over each other in hazy confusion. She’d returned home from her meeting with Mr. Jayne—and shaking Kit as he’d followed her—worried that she would find her husband distant and suspicious. But their dinner at home together had been altogether delightful. He’d entertained her late into the evening with tales of his youthful misadventures at school. When he’d pressed her for more about her life in Cornwall, she’d recounted her favorite legends about alluring mermaids and mischievous piskies.
After their meal, they’d gone to the drawing room and played piquet. It had turned into a game of who could cheat more outrageously, culminating in her finding a stash of aces tucked into the top of Kit’s boot.
She’d thought he would try to kiss her again, but he hadn’t. Instead, they’d gone to their separate beds, where she’d spent the night wondering if she’d merely imagined him following her earlier in the day. Everything was as snared as her hair, and she set the brush down in frustration, still mystified by Kit’s strange appearance in her bedroom.
Nessa hastened in, clothed but her hair wasn’t yet up. “A trifle early,” she said with a hint of remonstrance, “even for you.”
“Lord Blakemere woke me minutes ago,” Tamsyn explained. She scrubbed a washcloth over her face. “Didn’t tell me anything but I was to get dressed as soon as possible.” A thousand probabilities ran through her mind, none of them good.
“Do you think he knows?” Nessa asked, going pale.
“He didn’t say, and I can’t read his bloody mind,” Tamsyn snapped. Anxiety made her patience thin—but she regretted her tone the moment she spoke.
“All right, all right.” Nessa delved into the wardrobe and removed a teal walking gown as well as the necessary underpinnings.
