Page 28 of The Hired Hero
“Do you mean to…sleep here too?”
“We can hardly afford the extravagance of a second room. Besides, it would look deuced odd—a man does not hire a separate room for his groom.” His back was to her, and he was already placing his shaving things on top of the dresser.
“But…”
“Oh come, don’t turn so missus. It is not as if you haven’t passed a night in the same chamber with a man.” A pause. “Unlike your husband, I’ve no intention of using my fists on you to release my inner demons.”
He turned and must have caught a glimpse of her face, which had drained of all color. “And you needn’t fear any other…unwanted attention,” he added softly.
Caroline was too shocked to reply.
“I’ll bring you your supper, and then I’ll have an ale downstairs while you ready yourself for the night.” He cleared his throat. “I took the liberty of adding a nightshirt along with the extra garments in your bag.” With that, he left the room, closing the door firmly behind him
Caroline wished she could lock it in his wake. But, unfortunately, there was no such amenity gracing the rough pine. The color flooded back into her face at the thought of the earl lying not four feet away from her for the entire night, clad in no more than a…
First with words and now with deed, he seemed bent on humiliating her. She couldn’t fathom why.
Hugging herself tightly, as if to ward off a chill, she felt the oilskin packet sewn in the lining pressed up against her chest. It reminded her that she had to be strong, no matter what. She couldn’t fail her father.
With a sniff, she wiped away the tears that had pearled on her lashes. It might not have been the wisest thing to allow the earl to believe she was fleeing a rough husband, but since she dared not reveal the truth, she would have to keep up the charade. If that meant sharing the same bedchamber with the insufferable man, then that was what she would do.
The door opened—the earl had not even had the courtesy to knock.
“I’ve brought you something to eat.” He gave a slight grimace. “As you might imagine, the choice was rather limited.” A slice of cold mutton, rather gray around the edges, accompanied by a few slices of bread and a piece of moldy cheese, was sitting on a chipped plate.
Caroline averted her eyes. “I’m not hungry,” she said, endeavoring to sound composed. “You may put it down anywhere.”
He sat down next to her. Putting the plate aside, he reached for her chin and turned her face to meet his gaze. She tried to jerk free, but he kept a firm hold on her. To her dismay, there was still a trace of wetness on her cheeks. And that only made her angrier.
“You just said that you didn’t intend to use physical force on me!” she cried. “Why is it that because you men are stronger, you feel you have the right to do as you please?”
Davenport removed his hand, but his eyes held her with their piercing blue gaze. “If I could think of a way to spare your sensibilities, I would,” he said quietly. “I hardly think it wise—or safe—for you to try to sleep in the stable. It’s a rough crowd downstairs, and if they discovered that you are a female…” He let the sentence die. “And it is hardly possible for me to do so and let my groom stay here. It would attract undue attention, which I believe is exactly what you wish to avoid.”
“My sensibilities,” she repeated. “You have no idea what my feelings are, just as I have no understanding of yours…oh, damnation!”
Another trickle had started down her cheek, and she quickly wiped it away with the sleeve of her coat. “I don’t care that you hate me. Just get me to London. The sooner you do so, the sooner you shall have your money and be done with it.”
Davenport reached into his pocket and took out a handkerchief. Without a word, he dabbed gently at the other cheek.
“I…I never cry.” Caroline drew in a shaky breath, furious with herself.
“I’m sure you don’t.”
She twisted away from his reach. “Just leave me alone.”
He rose and left without a word.
* * *
The third alestill could not drown out the nagging of his conscience. Davenport knew he had been behaving very badly. He set the pint down with a thump and pushed away the unappealing supper, having lost his appetite as well.
Confound the lady.
He sighed as he took another long draught. Hell’s teeth, he had good reason to be angry with her! After all, she had no right to drag him into her problems when he had more than enough of his own. It wasn’t his fault that she had chosen a man who beat her…who wanted to batter down her independent spirit until she was no more than a hollow vessel, drained and empty.
He stared at his now-empty glass. And yet, the choice to help her had been his to make—and something about the look in her bravely defiant eyes had made it impossible to turn away.
In truth, it wasn’therweakness that angered him—it was his own.
