Page 35 of The Viscount's Code
She would likely never know.
Hope was so immersed in her thoughts that she jumped when the door opened, and she brought a hand to her chest when she saw that it was Anthony returning.
“Are they coming to prepare the bed?” she asked, wringing her hands in worry when she noted he was frowning, his brows drawn low over his eyes.
“No. It’s a busy night, being a popular destination as well as a busy time of year with the weather so favorable. They don’t have any additional bedding, beds, or rooms. They told me we were lucky to get what we have.”
“Oh, no,” she said, her stomach dropping. “Well…”
“It’s fine,” he said. “I shall be out in the hall while you prepare for bed. Call when I may re-enter.”
“Very well,” she said, out of ideas, though the guilt was weighing heavily upon her. “Might I ask a favor before you go?”
“Yes.”
“Could you please unfasten the back of my gown? I may have thought ahead in terms of what to pack, but I never considered the gown I was currently wearing.”
She saw him swallow then nod, and she turned around to face the window of the room, which was so dirty she didn’t think anyone could see in or out, before placing her hands on the bodice of the dress so that it wouldn’t fall when the fastenings were loosened.
The tension between them was thick as he stepped toward her, and she braced herself in anticipation when he approached her back.
His breath was soft and warm upon her neck as his fingers grazed over her shoulders while he loosened the first fastening. Her maid usually made quick work of them, but Anthony moved much slower and more methodically as he continued down her back. Every time he reached the next button, Hope had to focus on stilling her body so that she wouldn’t shiver in anticipation of the stroke of his fingertips against her skin.
Finally, he reached the bottom, and the fabric of her dress parted at the back. She was sure he had a good look at the skin above her chemise, especially when it took a few moments for him to step back and away from her.
“I’ll, ah…” He cleared his throat, “…be waiting outside.”
And with that, he took off toward the door as though he was being chased by a wild boar.
She would have laughed if she wasn’t so affected by their exchange.
Hope made quick work of removing the rest of her clothing, leaving her chemise on before adding her nightgown overtop. She considered her wrapper as well but decided that she would feel as though she was being suffocated if she wore it to sleep.
She dove under the covers before calling out, “come in,” and when Anthony stepped through the door, her cheeks warmed as she wondered if he had heard her moving about. Most likely.
He said nothing as she faced the wall, the covers pulled up close to her shoulders. She never had much issue in making conversation – until now. But this was hardly a typical situation, so it made sense that awkwardness would ensue. Awkwardness… and awareness. She couldn’t see him but could track him moving about the room. She squeezed her eyes tight and told herself not to look, but she couldn’t resist shifting slightly to see what he was doing – and then she wished she hadn’t. For he was down to his trousers and shirtsleeves, folding his cloak out over the floor in a makeshift bed.
“Take a pillow,” she called out, her voice sounding too loud and shrill in the silence. She cleared her throat. “And anything else you might need.”
“If you’re not using it,” he said, his voice lower and huskier, and he came over and took the one she held out to him. His cravat was gone, the top buttons of his shirt undone so that she could see the skin of his chest below, covered in a light patterning of hair. “Thank you.”
Their eyes locked, and for a moment, Hope forgot to breathe, but then he stepped back and away from her, toward the fire. He lay down, settling in, and while he was the one on the floor, Hope wondered how she was ever going to get any sleep tonight.
* * *
Anthony knewhe wasn’t going to sleep a wink.
Of course, the hard floor was not exactly ideal, as he continued to shift to try to find some semblance of comfort. But whenever he did, another floorboard bit into his body and he found his arms going numb.
That wasn’t the worst of it, however.
No, the worst of it was hearing Hope move around in the bed beyond. He wished that she would stop moving, but to ask her to do so would only make him look like an even bigger lout than he already was.
“Are you all right?” he finally asked, and as soon as he spoke, her rustling stopped.
“Fine,” she said quickly, and he sighed before pushing himself up and walking over to the chair in the corner.
It had some padding on it still, though it was worn in most spots. He had dismissed it earlier, but he didn’t think that anything could be worse than the floor had been.
