Page 41 of Miss Dignified
“You do notdiscussthe past.” She took his arm, and they moved into the house.
“I will have to ask my cousins if soldiers from Shropshire had a reputation for fierceness, or perhaps insubordination. There is a fine line between the two.”
Lydia and her employer toddled down the steps, and because it was the noon hour and because most of the staff preferred a pint at the pub to another hurried meal in the kitchen—or preferred to linger abovestairs spying—the kitchen and pantries were deserted.
“You think I’m fierce?”
“Admit me to your parlor, and I will add graciousness to fierceness on your list of virtues.”
He could have kissed her on the stairs or pulled her into the butler’s pantry and been assured of privacy. “Why my parlor?”
“I want to see your demesne by daylight, with you on hand.”
The kittens were awake and having a wash on the raised hearth in the kitchen. They watched Lydia go by as if well aware why she would allow the captain a private audience in her parlor.
“A modest chamber,” the captain said, glancing around and making no move to pull the door or draperies closed.
“Small spaces are easier to heat, and I do have a window.” At ground level outside and slightly higher than usual from within, as was typical of half basements.
“And a parlor stove for warmth. Is this your aunt Chloe in her youth?” He peered at a sketch Lydia had brought with her, the only sketch. “She was a very pretty young lady. Has your nose.”
“My mother, who is a paragon’s paragon.” Lydia had done the sketch last year. “I’ve wondered why you have no renderings of your sisters on hand. I can do some while they’re here if you like.”
“You did this?” He studied the little portrait, a three-quarter profile of Mama half smiling in that serene way of hers. He drew his finger down Lydia’s nose, a glancing touch and maddeningly brief. “Maybe her chin too.”
“Like all paragons, Mama can sit patiently for hours. She wasn’t even embroidering. She just held that pose because I asked her to.”
“A woman given to introspection, perhaps. A terrifying thought, though I suspect the trait has bred true.” He ambled over to the bedroom door and pushed it open. “At least your bed is decent size. Did you bring that quilt with you?”
Once a reconnaissance officer, always a reconnaissance officer, apparently. “I did not, but I did the embroidery around the border. Gave me something to do as we waited for winter to pass.”
The captain stepped into her bedroom, and Lydia wasn’t sure how she felt about that. Her washstand, her clothes press, her wardrobe, hereverythingwas always tidy. But this was herbedroom,and abruptly, it seemed a very small space indeed.
And very personal. Her nightgown lay folded across the foot of the bed. Her slippers sat near the hearth, awaiting the warmth of a fire. Her traveling desk was on the windowsill, there being no other place to store it. Lydia’s trunks and valise were under the bed, and because her initials were embossed on that luggage, she did not want anybody seeing it. Bad enough the Glover family crest was carved onto the side of the traveling desk.
“I would like to tarry with you in this bed,” the captain said, running a hand over the quilt. “That admission shocks me. I hope it doesn’t surprise you.”
Lydia said the first thing to come to mind. “We’d be more comfortable in your bed, Captain.”
Heaven defend her, that smile. That smile of his was knowing and full of mischief.
“Comfort has its allure,” he said, bringing a pillow to his nose for a sniff, then returning it to the precise place he’d found it. “But I want you to go to bed each night recalling my warmth beside you, my head beside yours on these pillows. I want to know the exact creak of your bed ropes when two people occupy that mattress, and those two people are thee and me.”
His tone was cool, while heat ignited in Lydia’s middle. “Is that a dare, Captain?”
“A confession.” He took one last look around the room and returned to the parlor. “I should be off on my rounds.”
“You truly wanted only to see my apartment?”
“What I want, and what you allow me, could be quite different, Lydia.”
Insight dawned. “I have had quite enough of your honor for one day, sir. You expect me to make all the overtures?”
“I expect you to make the important ones, after suitable negotiation. I’ve already stated where my ambitions would take us.”
He had also made certain Lydia would have memories of him, his head nearly brushing the lintel of her bedroom doorway, his hand stroking over her quilt. She ought to resent him for placing the burden of the initiative on her.
One more thing to manage… Except it wasn’t. He’d come down here, to her personal quarters, he’d stated his wishes, and he was waiting, with that maddening smile lurking in his eyes. He’d wait all afternoon for her to choose what came next.
