Six

Kelston Hall Children’s Home

Lilly’s office

Still the same day—quarter before four in the afternoon

Where is he ?

For at least the fifth time in the past forty-five minutes, Lilly nudged aside the lace curtain with her bent forefinger and examined Kelston Hall’s circular paved stone drive.

Sheriff Wrottesley had not come.

Neither had the inconsiderate lawman sent an excuse by messenger.

True, as the county’s high sheriff, Wrottesley’s duties took him to villages, towns, and hamlets all over Northumberland.

That is when he fulfilled his duties.

Most of the time, he simply did as he pleased, and none dared complain for fear of retribution. Only the good Lord knew where the cur was today or why he had not kept his appointment.

“Enough of this.”

She let the age-yellowed panel slide back into place, where the lace swished against the decades-old, faded bronze damask draperies.

How Lilly despised the color and the musty old hangings.

Yet she could not justify splurging for new draperies, even of a less expensive fabric such as chintz or velvet, when these fusty old hangings sufficed.

On rare occasions when she permitted herself to daydream, she imagined glorious, colorful brocade draperies and furnishings.

Bold and daring.

Nothing drab or neutral.

Crimson red, royal blue, or emerald green.

In truth, she preferred brighter, lighter tones for her gowns as well, but headmistresses could hardly flit about the children’s home wearing pinks, corals, or periwinkle, could they?

Who would take her seriously if she did not dress the part?

Lilly gave a firm shake of her head to dispel her fanciful musing.

She had tasks to see to.

Three mischievous little chaps awaited her to check their reading progress, and she must dismiss a neglectful teacher.

Never one to waste time, Lilly filled the last three-quarters of an hour by responding to correspondences and writing an advert for the soon-to-be-open teaching position.

Blast Miss Sanders for being lackadaisical and dishonest .

A blank piece of foolscap lay atop Lilly’s desk.

She replaced it in the fifty-year-old black walnut pedestal desk’s top drawer. Something had checked her impulse, other than a hesitancy to part with the coin, to also place notices in two or three papers about the stranger in her chamber.

It was not as if someone had misplaced a reticule or riding crop at a house party.

This was a badly beaten, and according to him, abducted man.

Mayhap nefarious forces were at work, and the last thing she needed was to lead them straight to the children’s home.

Arms folded, she drummed her fingertips on her upper arms.

Did that mean the home and children were in more danger than she had previously conceived?

In that case, her reluctance to make his presence widely known made absolutely no sense.

Unless he was telling the truth.

How could she possibly know?

Cross about her double-mindedness, she pulled her mouth into a tight line.

In point of fact, Lilly was disgusted with herself for not having better screened the teaching applicants. Miss Sanders had provided glowing references, which Lilly had painstakingly verified.

But then again, how could one really know someone else?

What circumstances might make a person behave in a manner they never would have normally?

That train of thought brought her focus back to the visitor above.

Well, at least she had not been compelled to weave a believable tale for the sheriff to explain why she had summoned him here.

Oddly relieved that Wrottesley had stood her up, she rubbed her nape for a few moments.

The hard floor made an unaccommodating mattress, and she had battled aching muscles and stiffness these past two weeks, which only reminded her she was not as young as she once was.

After placing the small stack of letters on the corner, she tidied up her already neat desk and with a last glance at the dressing screen which concealed the nook that would become her make-shift sleeping chamber for the indeterminable future, she left her office.

Having decided to speak with Miss Sanders straightaway, she made for the woman’s third-story chamber. She would start the search there and continue with the rest of the house and grounds.

Men’s laughter carried to Lilly as she approached the landing, and brow furrowed, she picked up her pace.

Charles and his patient?

Alarm sluiced through her when she turned the corner and observed her bedchamber door standing open.

Drat and double drat.

There had been no opportunity to speak with Charles about confining their uninvited guest.

Stupid, stupid numpty for leaving the key in the keyhole.

With more trepidation than the situation warranted, Lilly approached her chamber just as another round of laughter burst forth.

“I am sincerely grateful. All that lace did rather emasculate me.”

Lilly peeked around the doorjamb just in time to see the donated nightshirt get tugged over the mysterious stranger’s dark head, exposing a nicely muscled chest covered with a tempting smattering of sable hair. The strips around his ribs stood out in stark contrast to his tanned skin, suggesting he had spent time shirtless in some place that boasted considerably more sun than the English countryside.

She should add that detail to her list of clues about him.

“ Ahem .” She cleared her throat and continued into the room. “What, may I ask, is going on?”