Chapter 8

CHAPTER EIGHT

" L ord Sallis entered inside with me asleep in his arms, walked to the wager room and laid me on the sofa, then left without an explanation?" Jenna demanded, aghast.

"Yes," Lady Heather said, her bright gray eyes dancing with good humor. "It took some effort for Sarah, Maryann, and I to rouse you and dress you more respectably and then escort you home. Your mother and brother were waiting along with Charity, and somehow you managed to convince them you snuck from the ball and made your way to 48 Berkeley Square to meet us, and then we overindulged. Even tippled, your quick thinking is brilliant."

Jenna groaned and leaned against the cushions of the sofa. Now she understood the fulminating glare her mother gave her this morning.

"Why were you drinking with the viscount when you know you cannot imbibe?" Sarah, another dear friend and member of 48 Berkeley Square, gasped.

Jenna frowned and tried to recall the full events of the evening. Snatches haunted her, and they felt like dreams. She could not imagine what liberties she had allowed the scoundrel.

"I think I drank without knowing the content of the cup."

Heather's eyes widened. "That wicked bounder, how—"

"No," Jenna cried. "He … Lord Sallis did not offer me this. I took it without asking. Also, he has no knowledge of my intolerance. I daresay I must have shocked him."

This mollified her friends' anger, and they spent another hour laughing and chatting before they ended their afternoon call. Upon returning home, she had slept through the night and spent most of the morning awake. Now, she felt famished. Hastening to the smaller drawing room, she hummed her pleasure to see a spread of thinly sliced ham, roast beef, rashers of bacon, strawberries with heavy cream and toasted bread with a lemon pound cake. Jenna sat and started to eat, the sunlight filtering through the lace curtains and casting a warm glow on the room.

Her mother's voice broke the quiet. "We received a letter from Aunt Bess."

Jenna dabbed her mouth with a napkin and looked up. She had not heard her mother enter the room. "I forgot Aunt Bess was to have arrived today. Why did she send a letter in her stead?"

"She is not feeling well enough to travel to town," her mother said, her brow furrowed with concern. "Their party had to divert to their manor house in Derbyshire when the illness became evident. I am worried about her."

"I will visit her," Jenna offered immediately. "You can stay here and chaperone Elizabeth for the next week, Mama. I am quite tired of balls. I will give Aunt Bess your regard and stay with her until she recovers."

Her mother looked at her with a mixture of relief and gratitude. "Are you sure, Jenna? It's quite a journey to Derbyshire."

"Only a couple of days, Mama," she said drily.

"I shall ask Anne to accompany—"

"Mama, I do not need a chaperone—"

"You will settle my nerves by having a maid accompany you, my dear. I do not care how much in your dotage you think you are."

She laughed. "Very well, Mama. I have been wanting to see Aunt Bess, and I declare I cannot wait another week or two. Besides, it will give Elizabeth a chance to enjoy herself at the ball with one less person watching her every move."

With the arrangements made, only a few hours later, Jenna prepared for her journey. The carriage was loaded with a small valise, and she said her goodbyes to her family before setting off. They traveled as expeditiously as possible and, sleeping a night at an inn, reached Derbyshire by evening the next day. Jenna occupied herself with reading and wondering what had caused Aunt Bess's illness and how serious it was. Her note had provided no information on the matter. The countryside passed by in a blur of green fields and rolling hills, the serenity of the landscape welcoming.

Several hours into the journey, a sudden jolt shook the carriage. Jenna's heart leaped as the carriage came to a stop, tilting slightly to one side. She heard the coachman muttering curses under his breath as he climbed down to inspect the damage.

Anne gasped. "Is it highwaymen?"

"Highly unlikely. But never fear; I have my parasol, and it has a special blade."

That information only seemed to horrify Anne. Sighing, Jenna drew open the carriage curtains. "What happened?" she called out, peering out the window.

"One of the wheels broke, my lady," the coachman replied, his tone grim. "There's an inn a few miles away. We might have to go there."

"How far is it to my aunt's manor?"

"It would be considerably further than the inn, my lady. Night would surely fall, and we would still be walking." He frowned and looked toward his left over the rolling grasslands and forest. "Viscount Sallis's country manor is only two miles away, my lady: we could put up there and ask for help."

Jenna's heart squeezed, and it took a few beats before she said, "Viscount Sallis?"

"Yes, my lady."

A part of her had been running from the viscount, which is why she left London so readily. But she reassured herself that he was in town so she could seek help from his estate without encountering him. She looked upward. The sky was overcast, the sun hidden by dark, bloated clouds, and a chilling breeze gusted over the land. It would be nonsensical to walk further than warranted.

"Let's head to Lord Sallis's manor," Jenna said, her voice steadier than she felt. "It's closer, and we can get help faster."

The coachman nodded, and they set off on foot, the fields stretching out before them. The walk was pleasant, the air fresh, and the landscape beautiful. Jenna couldn't help but feel a sense of peace as she took in the rolling countryside and the large lake teeming with fish near the manor. As they approached the viscount's estate, she marveled at the beauty of the place. The manor was a lovely, sprawling building surrounded by lush gardens. It looked both grand and inviting, even though there were sections of the stone that needed painting.

They walked along the long, graveled driveway until they reached the forecourt. The coachman hastened toward the stables to seek help. Jenna reached the entrance, and the butler, a dignified man with a kind expression, opened the door.

"I am Lady Jenna Hawkins," she said in greeting. "This is my lady's maid Anne."

"Lady Jenna," he said with a polite bow. "How may I assist you?"

"Our carriage wheel broke a couple of miles back," Jenna explained. "Could we trouble you for some assistance?"

"Of course, my lady," the butler replied. "Please, come inside. Allow me to escort you to the sunroom while you wait. It has a lovely view of the lake and gazebo. Miss Anne will accompany Mr. Stewart to the servants' quarters to freshen up."

"Thank you," Jenna murmured, watching as her lady's maid blushed when the far too handsome footman smiled at her.

The butler walked briskly down the hallway, and she noted how worn the carpet seemed and that the walls were bare of paintings. They entered a most charming room that had lovely floor-to-ceiling windows and was tastefully decorated. The silver-and-blue damask drapes were drawn open, and the view was indeed breathtaking.

"I will have a servant bring refreshments, my lady, and I will inform the viscount that he has guests."

Jenna froze. The viscount? She had been so sure that Cillian was in London. "Do you mean to say Lord Sallis is in residence?"

"Yes, my lady, our master only returned early this morning."

Panic surged through her. She couldn't face him, not now, not here. She needed to leave. "I … I'm sorry," she stammered. "Please do not tell Lord Sallis I called. I should go."

Before the butler could respond, she rushed from the sunroom and hurried down the hallway. Her pulse raced as she searched for the way out, her mind a whirl of conflicting emotions. She needed time to shore up her ways before she saw him again. This was too unexpected. Jenna could not believe she had walked right into his home.

Just as she grabbed the edges of her traveling gown and broke into a run, she collided with a solid figure. She gasped, looking up to find herself face-to-face with a disheveled and winded Cillian, who had just appeared at the base of the stairs.

"Jenna!" he said roughly, staring at her with piercing intensity, "it is indeed you. How is it that you are here? Is all well?"

A searing flash of awareness burned through her. "I … I didn't realize you were home," she said, trying to steady her racing heart. "I thought you were in London. I would not have importuned if I knew you were in residence."

Jenna silently groaned, fearing she was rambling.

"I had an emergency and was forced to return earlier than expected," he said, his gaze searching hers. "What's happened? Why are you here? Is Lord—"

"No," she hastened to say, struggling to regain her composure. "I … I left town shortly after you, it seems. Our carriage broke down. I did not mean to intrude. We can find help elsewhere."

"Nonsense," he said firmly, his hand gently gripping her arm. "You are here now, and I will not have you running off in distress. Let me help you."

Her mind raced with a thousand reasons to refuse, but the genuine concern in his eyes stopped her. She nodded slowly, allowing him to guide her back toward the room. Cillian led her into the room, where the butler quickly brought in tea and assured her that the carriage would be attended to promptly. Jenna sat down, her nerves slowly settling as she looked around the warm, inviting room. Jenna felt a strange sense of comfort in his presence despite her initial shock.

"Thank you, Cillian," she said quietly, meeting his gaze. "I appreciate your help."

"It's the least I can do," he replied, sitting across from her. "Tell me more about what happened. Are you hurt?"

"No, I am fine," she assured him. "Your … cravat is coming loose, and there is a button undone on your shirt, my lord."

A charming smile shaped his mouth. "I glimpsed you after coming out of my bath. I have never dressed myself so fast."

"Is that why you appeared in front of me as if conjured from the air at the base of the stairs?"

He chuckled. "Yes. And I am sorry for colliding with you; I practically leaped from the upper floor to the lower floor before I could see you coming my way."

"You could have broken your leg or your neck if you fell," she said faintly.

"It was a possibility," he drawled, his gaze kissing over her with far too much heat.

The butler entered and dipped into a quick bow. "Forgive the intrusion, my lord; the blacksmith is not in the village and is said to be returning tomorrow afternoon. I will prepare the carriage for …"

The butler's normally unflappable demeanor crumbled, and his eyes widened.

Jenna quickly looked at the viscount and noted one of his hands was folded behind his back, and though he stared directly at Jenna with a disarming smile, the butler was staring at Lord Sallis's hidden hand.

What was going on? Jenna lowered the teacup. "I—"

"Yes, my lady," the butler hastened to say, his gaze snapping to hers. I wanted to prepare our carriage for you, but the wheel is also broken." The butler cleared his throat and maintained a serene expression.

She frowned. "Lord Sallis's carriage wheel is also broken?"

"The axle, I'm afraid, my lady. I believe it is best you spend the rest of the night here as it promises to rain, and the blacksmith will be called to fix the wheel first thing in the morning—"

The viscount cleared his throat, stopping the butler, who, after a beat, continued, "Forgive me, my lady. I meant to say he would be called to fix the wheel in the afternoon."

"What about your man of all works who usually—"

"I am afraid he is … also indisposed, my lady."

"Indisposed?"

"Yes, with … ah … a fever."

"A fever?" Jenna felt like a parrot.

"Yes."

"I could borrow a horse—"

The viscount promptly cleared his throat again, and the butler said, "They need reshoeing, my lady, and will be ready to ride tomorrow or the next day."

Astonishment seared her. "All of the horses need reshoeing?"

"Yes, my lady."

Jenna narrowed her gaze, for she saw the quick signal of approval the viscount gave his butler with his hand at his back. It was a quick glimpse, but she was certain! The wretched scoundrel was trying to keep her under his roof for the night and, by the sounds of it, also the morning.

"Splendid, it is all arranged," Cillian said smoothly, standing. "Williamson, see that a guest room is prepared for Lady Jenna and all comforts provided."

"Very well, my lord, I will have the rose room … ah …"

"I believe the room facing the lake is proper," the viscount said, his expression carefully composed. "There is no need to worry about the rose room."

"Yes, my lord," the butler said, and when he bowed, Jenna saw his small smile.

The door closed, and she marched over to Cillian and poked him in the chest with a finger. "Even your servants know how to act the rogue!"

"Oh?" he said, his smile far too provoking and carnal. "Whatever do you mean, Jenna?"

"He just conspired with you to keep me here longer than necessary. I am going to walk to my aunt's—"

Thunder rumbled in the distance, cutting off her words.

The viscount nodded and said in a soothing tone, "I shall walk and keep your company if you wish. Allow me to grab my jacket and an umbrella."

He started to turn away, and she fisted his shirt. Jenna knew she did not have the strength to stop him, but instantly, he stilled and faced her. Their gazes collided, and something in his eyes squeezed her heart most frightfully. It was as if he braced himself for her rejection.

Most befuddling, Jenna did not wish to wound him. A lump formed in her throat, and she stared at Cillian almost helplessly. "You could have simply invited me to stay," she said softly.

"Lady Jenna, please stay here for the night," he promptly replied, his tone even softer than hers.

Aware of how close they were standing, she quickly released his shirt, her fingers lingering for a moment on the fabric. "I … I will accept your hospitality for the night. Thank you, Lord Sallis."

He gave a small, satisfied nod. "I am glad you are staying. It's too dangerous to venture out in this weather."

As if that was his only reason.

"I would like you also to note that this encounter will not be taken from my twenty days. Only encounters planned by me will count, not those designed by fate."

"You are incorrigible, Cillian." And so very dangerous to me.

He laughed, a deep, warm sound that pierced her chest with far too much warmth.

"I have been accused of worse. Incorrigible sounds like a compliment. I accept it."

Jenna turned away, her mind a whirl of thoughts and emotions. She had not planned to stay the night, but circumstances had forced her hand. She had to admit, though, that a part of her was curious about spending more time with Cillian, even if she would never admit it aloud.

A servant appeared. "Your room is ready, my lady. Please follow me.

As Jenna walked away, she felt his gaze on her, warm and steady. Halfway down the hallway, she paused and looked back at him. "Thank you, Lord Sallis. For everything."

His expression softened, and he gave a slight bow. "Good night, Lady Jenna. Sleep well. I usually skip supper, but I will ask the cook to prepare a tray for you."

She nodded and continued up the stairs, her heart lighter than it had been in years. The maid opened a door, and Jenna entered. Her eyes widened as she took in the room. It held a distinctly masculine decor, with dark, wooden furniture and deep, rich colors. The large, four-poster bed dominated the space, its heavy drapes a deep burgundy that matched the plush rug underfoot. The bed itself looked rather inviting, with a thick, embroidered coverlet and a mountain of pillows.

Despite the grandeur of the bed, the room was sparse. There was a solid oak wardrobe against one wall and a matching chest of drawers, both polished to a high sheen but lacking in personal touches. A sturdy writing desk stood near the window; its surface was clear except for a single brass lamp. The large windows were framed by heavy velvet curtains, which let in just enough light to see the dust particles dancing in the air.

She noted the bare walls, save for a single painting of a stormy sea hanging above the mantel. A large fireplace added a touch of warmth to the room, though it was not currently lit. The overall effect was one of understated elegance, with each piece of furniture chosen for its quality and durability rather than its decoration.

Jenna's gaze lingered on the four-poster bed again, feeling a curious mixture of comfort and apprehension.

Was … was this Cillian's bedchamber?

Surely, it could not be. Soon, she was alone, and Jenna removed her traveling gown and boots without Anne's aid. Despite the day's unexpected twists, Jenna felt a sense of anticipation for what tomorrow might bring. It made no sense to send a letter to Aunt Bess. Jenna had not even sent a note to her aunt informing her of traveling down. It seemed nonsensical since she would depart town immediately. As Jenna settled into bed, the sound of the rain outside her window was a comforting lullaby, and she idly wondered which room belonged to the viscount.

Oh, please help me to escape any foolish mistake.