Page 69 of If the Slipper Fits
Her face throbbed with mortified heat. She could only imagine what a fright she must look. She hugged herself and told herself she could handle whatever insult he doled out.
“Madame, kindly have meals brought up for myself and my sister.”
As if seconding his motion, her stomach emitted a low growl.
Her eyes met his. His lips twitched and she sent him a tentative smile, helpless to resist.
“She also requires a bath.”
Her smile vanished. She resisted mentioning he looked far from fresh, himself, with stubble darkening his cheeks, not to mention the blue tinge above his brow. Although, come to think of it, the wound didn’t look half bad. The work of her salve, no doubt.
He arched a challenging brow at her scrutiny. She arched both her brows in response.
Seemingly oblivious to the silent interchange, the innkeeper balked. “At this hour? It’ll cost ya dear, sir.”
“Be that as it may, my sister has had a trying evening.”
“Aye, sir.” She scurried from the chamber, muttering under her breath.
Caden followed, tossing over his shoulder, “Until tomorrow, sister.” He closed the door softly behind him.
Anna stood in the room’s center and stared at the paneled door, contemplating his parting words.Until tomorrow.
Until tomorrow, what? Did he mean to question her then be on his way, leaving her behind? And why wouldn’t he? He owed her nothing. Not a paid night at the inn, and certainly not a carriage ride to Derbyshire followed by an extended stay at Chissington Hall.
Why hadn’t Lady Wentworth informed her whose carriage she climbed into? Why hadn’t Anna thought to ask?
In fairness to herself, her main concern had been escape.
She searched her mind, trying to recall the dowager duchess’s exact words as she closed the luggage hold, plunging Anna into darkness.Stay silent and all will be well. Do have a care and check the contents of your trunk when you arrive at your destination…carefully.
She approached the pretty flowered trunk lying atop the neatly made bed.
She popped the trunk’s latches and lifted the lid—then blinked in confusion at the heretofore unseen contents.Wasthis the trunk Lady Wentworth had packed for Anna? Who else’s could it be? But on first glance it appeared Lady Wentworth had packed none of Anna’s servant’s gowns.
She riffled through the layers of clothing, spying several fine day dresses, at least one evening gown similar to those Lady Bernadette had loaned her, fresh undergarments and a white, lawn sleeping gown. And at the bottom, she was gratified to see, nestled her new boots.
She nibbled the tip of her pointer finger and stared at the trunk’s contents as if doing so might reveal the where, why, and how Lady Wentworth had procured the garments. She drew a solid blank.
Check the contents…carefully.
A satin pocket ran along the inner side of the trunk. Cautiously, Anna slipped one hand inside. Her fingers closed over buttery, smooth leather. A book? Too thin. Some sort of packet?
She withdrew what looked to be a lady’s leather billfold and peeked inside. She gasped at the substantial stack of crisp British pound notes. Lady Wentworth had sent her off with a minor fortune. And something else, too.
Anna withdrew a small bit of folded wax paper. She peeled back the corners—and stared. Her mother’s ruby? It couldn’t be.
Hands trembling, she re-wrapped gemstone, and slid it back into the billfold.
Her thoughts churned. Lady Wentworth somehow knew about Lord Bolton, had aided Anna in her escape, had provided her with clothing and funds—and what appeared to be Anna’s mother’s ruby, which Anna had pawned two years ago.
How? Why? Nothing about this night made any sense.
A knock sounded at her door, followed by a muffled voice announcing her bath’s arrival.
She closed her eyes. A hot bath would feel divine.
Everything else could wait.
