“So do you.” He stepped aside to allow her to precede him up the uncarpeted wooden stairs.
“I’m a servant.” He sought but didn’t find resentment in the statement. Her voice sharpened and she cast him a disapproving glance under her lashes. “I hope you’re not down here chasing the maids when they’re so busy.”
He burst out laughing then had to juggle the pails to stop them spilling. “You really don’t like me much, do you?”
For once, he couldn’t read her expression. “No, I don’t.”
He didn’t bother pointing out that her claim sounded less than convincing. He knew she found him attractive.
The feeling was mutual.
Even now when she looked tired enough to fall over.
When they reached the first landing, he set down the buckets with a thud and caught her arm. He expected her to pull free. After all, their last encounter had ended on a sour note and he couldn’t blame her for considering him both a brute and a lunatic. He’d had five days to regret his actions beside the stream and because of this damned epidemic, no chance to ameliorate the barbarous impression he’d left.
“You’re running yourself ragged.” He sounded angry instead of concerned. Not that he was concerned. He just didn’t like to see her looking so tired.
“Of course I am,” she snapped, staring up at him out of blue eyes dull with weariness.
He suddenly realized what was different. She wasn’t wearing her spectacles. She must have decided anyone who might penetrate her disguise wasn’t likely to be wandering about this charnel house.
She wore a brown dress of some coarse stuff with a stained pinafore over the top. Somehow the costume only emphasized her natural distinction.
Again his instincts screamed there was more to Miss Antonia Smith than Miss Antonia Smith let on.
“Doesn’t Cassie have a maid for the heavy work?” He didn’t want to identify the sensation in his gut as rage on Antonia’s behalf, but he couldn’t attribute the response to anything else.
Antonia still stared at him as though he were mad. “Yes, Miss Demarest does. Bella works as hard as I do.”
He didn’t miss her emphasis on formal address but he ignored it. He was only interested in Antonia. “You’ll get sick yourself if you don’t rest. You look terrible.”
“Thank you,” she said dryly, moving forward to lift one of the pails. “I can manage from here.”
He sighed and wondered where the hell his famous charm had buggered off to. Usually he could woo a woman using words alone. With Antonia, all he seemed to do was put his foot in it.
Easily he angled her out of the way and picked up the second pail. “You know what I mean.” She relinquished the other pail without resistance. Her docility was yet another sign of exhaustion.
She cast him a sharp glance. “I do believe you’re attempting in your ham-fisted way to express concern, Lord Ranelaw. How astonishing.”
He was hellishly grateful to see her spirit return. For a moment there, she’d looked as though life held neither hope nor happiness. He hated seeing her crushed and defeated.
“Of course I’m bloody concerned,” he admitted roughly, stamping up the stairs. “I’m not a complete savage.”
He knew without looking that she followed. “I’m touched.”
“I want you alive and well so I can roger you,” he growled. “And don’t tell me to be quiet. There’s nobody to listen in this mausoleum and even if they could, they’ve got better things to do than worry about what you and I get up to.”
“I wasn’t going to,” she said calmly. “Although you had the chance to seduce me and let it pass.”
Astonishment blasted him. He could hardly credit she brought up those fraught moments with such a casual air. They hadn’t felt casual to him. Damn the chit. He didn’t understand her.
“Sheer madness,” he muttered, shouldering his way through a plain door to the corridor outside Cassandra’s bedroom. “I can’t believe you’re holding that against me. Believe me, madam, you won’t escape next time.”
He waited for some deflating remark about never letting it happen again. But she kept silent. She really wasn’t herself. Once more that sharp little twinge.
“Where do you want these?” His voice was still rough. “Your room or Cassie’s?”
“How do you . . .” She stopped and stepped forward to open the door to her room. “I suppose you bribed the servants again. It’s a good thing you’re one of the richest men in the kingdom and you can afford all this chicanery.”