Page 17 of The Trouble with Tigers
By two in the afternoon, the heir apparent still had not deigned to put in an appearance.
Kitty tried not to grit her teeth as she placed the small vase containing the fresh flowers she’d arranged on the stand at the end of the hall. She breathed in the fragrant bouquet of lavender and honeysuckle, hoping the scent would soothe her frayed nerves.
It didn’t. No surprise there. Someone had worked her into a lather and, maddeningly, that someone was her.
She ought to be ashamed, skulking to her chamber, again, with yet another pathetic excuse. Let’s see, first, after breakfasting, she’d come to collect her dirties for delivery to the laundry. An hour or so later, after strolling the private park at the end of the street with the earl, she’d trotted back upstairs to wash. Later, she returned with the laundered clothing.
Now this. Fresh flowers from the conservatory to brighten up the space. Hah. Since when did Kit concern himself with flowers?
The truth was, she’d made the trek to her chamber for one reason, only. She wanted to know if he’d returned.
Bother, bother, bother. It wasn’t as if she had any claims on the man, nor did she wish to marry him. Problem was, she didn’t have to want to marriage to want…
Oh, that was just it. She didn’t know what she wanted. Except that she wanted him here, and not with anyone of the female persuasion—and especially not with a female over night.
She paced the small space and fumed. The earl napped, leaving her free to read or draw, wander the conservatory or entertain herself with any number of pastimes. But she couldn’t because all she could think about was him, and where in blazes he was.
This morning’s breakfast conversation between several of the maids hadn’t helped. While eating her porridge, she overheard Molly, the scullery maid, informing Cook not to bother with Lord Thurgood’s meal as he hadn’t returned home—again.
Danni, the upstairs maid, added, “Last week he came home with his shirt unbuttoned to here”—she gestured to her sternum—“his cravat hanging loose ’round his neck, and reeking of perfume.”
At Kit’s shocked gasp, both maids broke into a fit of the giggles, and hadn’t reined in their merriment ’til Cook threatened them with a wooden spoon.
“You should follow young Kit’s example, girls, and hush up about the family’s private affairs. The earl won’t take kindly to hearing of gossip spread about his heir.”
Kitty instantly regretted her reaction as she’d likely get no further information out of the staff.
Chastising herself as the worst sort of fool, she opened her door a crack and peeked out.
Zeke’s chamber door remained closed. Perhaps he’d stayed at his club last night. Gentlemen did from time to time, didn’t they?
The tip of her thumb hurt from her incessant nibbling. She yanked her hand from her mouth in disgust, turned from the door—though she left it ajar, and flounced onto her bed with an exaggerated humph.
Footsteps sounded in the hall. Light steps. A chambermaid, she’d wager.
But it could be him.
She flew off the bed to peer toward his chamber. His door was open, and beckoning.
In stocking-covered feet she skulked toward his chamber.What if he spots you?
She paused and nibbled her thumb some more, considering. She would say she was on her way to the kitchen. She started forward again.In your socks?She shushed her irritating pragmatist.
Hovering outside the threshold, a giddy sense of danger quickened her pulse and made her palms instantly clammy. She wiped them on her trousers and hinged forward from the hips, inch by slow inch, until she could just see into Zeke’s antechamber—and came nose to nose with the upstairs chambermaid.
She jerked upright, her heart hammering. “Oh, Danni, you gave me a fright,” she said, rapid-fire.
“I could say the same to you. What’re you about, Kit? D’ya need somethin’?”
“I…ah…thought Lord Thurgood had returned. I wanted to have a word. Ah, well, cheerio.” She began backing away.
“A word about what?” came the haughty demand from the top of the stairs.
She froze in her tracks, her mouth suddenly bone dry. Now? Now he put in an appearance?
Her gaze shifted in his direction as Zeke closed the distance between them. A lion stalking his prey.
A magnificent, debauched lion. The upper buttons of his shirt were undone, no cravat in sight. His waistcoat hung open to his ribs. He’d removed his jacket and had it slung it over his shoulder, hooked over his thumb.
