The Honourable Fortune Hunter (Scandalous Miss Brightwells 5)

She probably did.

And there was probably a compelling reason why they had to marry. Which meant Lizzy might as well marry the first personable gentleman who crossed her orbit. It was what young ladies did. What they were expected to do.

At the far end of the Long Galler

y, she stopped and looked back. The room stretched long and magnificent, dark and brooding, and only relieved by the moonlight spearing the diamond panes.

But there was no Mr McAlister.

So, it seemed like bed was her only, lonely option.

The temperature rose as she stepped into a narrow corridor with a Turkish runner and heavy oak doors on either side. It was a guest wing, though barely used considering that for two days she’d not encountered anyone.

However, someone must be in residence for behind one door she could hear muffled noises that sounded like laughter.

She felt tears gathering and squeezed her eyes. It was nice to know someone was feeling a little happier than she was tonight, she thought dolefully.

Then suddenly the door to her right was flung open and a figure dashed out, long golden hair trailing behind her as she swung her head to look back into the bedchamber she’d just exited; with the result that she did not see Lizzy and fell right upon her.

They both went down in a tangle of arms and legs, Lizzy crying out in surprise, the other young woman yelping an apology as she scrambled to her feet.

“Lady Quamby!” Lizzy cried out in surprise, righting herself and about to rise when Lady Quamby let out a shriek, which caused Lizzy to glance down to see the sconce of candles which Lady Quamby had dropped onto her gown had ignited the fine gauze that was now flaming and smoking.

“Quick! Angelo, help!”

Panicked, Lizzy found herself being hauled to her feet and into the bedchamber beyond where the counterpane was unceremoniously flung upon her, which effectively extinguished the flames that had progressed with frightening rapidity up her skirts so that when she stood, her gown was quite destroyed.

“Are you injured?” Lady Quamby, dressed in a very revealing nightgown, was clearly frightened as she gazed at the damage.

And when Lizzy looked, she saw that a great red weal had formed on her exposed thigh.

“Angelo, cold water! Fetch the water jug this moment!”

Lizzy glanced up as Lady Quamby drew her to sit on the bed, and her eyes grew wide as she saw that the man who was obediently following orders was completely naked.

And either he didn’t seem to notice or he didn’t care.

“Good man. You brought linen. You administer to Miss Scott’s injuries while I look for some soothing ointment. I don’t think it’s going to scar for it appears merely reddened, but I do know that burns can grow worse than one expects.”

“Eet look verrry terrible, lovely lady,” the man remarked in a thick accent. “You all right?”

Dazed, Lizzy nodded. The sight of a naked man kneeling in front of her and sponging her thigh was so extraordinary she wondered if she were dreaming.

“Please say something, Miss Scott.”

Now Lady Quamby was back, looking anxiously down at her.

“I…I promise I’ll say nothing of this to your husband.”

“Oh, he’d only be concerned as to your welfare, my dear. My husband is like that. Very kind.” Then, realising what Lizzy meant, she laughed. “Why, my husband is probably similarly engaged in another chamber with someone just as nice as my Angelo. He certainly wouldn’t mind if he knew about us.” She sat down on the bed beside her and added kindly, “That is one of the advantages of making the right marriage. And you, my dear, are contemplating your own union.” She patted Lizzy’s hand and enquired, “Is there a young man here who has taken your fancy?”

Lizzy hesitated. “I...am not sure.”

“What do you think of Mr Dalgleish?”

Lizzy jerked her head up. “Mr Dalgleish?”

“I believe Mrs Hodge is anxious for the pair of you to make a match.”