“Oh, all right, if you insist.” She fetched the ledgers herself and plopped them in with her horde of jewels and stood back. “Are you sure you can close and open the safe again?”
“Not in any doubt, but only when you ask me to,” he promised.
Since there was no key, Jeremy manipulated the lock with the pins to lock it again. Fanny peered over his shoulder as he made sure the door was secure.
She put her hand on his arm. “What was the part you had to play that made you learn to pick locks?”
“I don’t remember,” he lied, and then hated himself for needing to do so. Picking locks should have no part in his current life. It was dangerous work with dangerous consequences. “I would appreciate it if you did not tell your father of my skills with locks.”
“I wasn’t going to,” she promised. “Besides, I like knowing little secret things about you that no one else does.”
He didn’t. He felt exposed and ashamed every single time she managed to squeeze out some unsavory detail of his poor past. He finally faced her. “Now about your door.” Jeremy stared at her. “How about a compromise?”
“What sort of compromise?”
“The kind where I don’t spend the night here again. Barricade the door with furniture instead.”
Fanny glanced about the chamber unhappily. “But every piece of furniture is too heavy for me to move without making a noise and drawing attention, which is the last thing I want to do at this hour.”
Jeremy raked a hand through his hair. “I hadn’t thought of that.”
“Do you mind very much staying with me again?”
“Of course not.” He shrugged away his concern for the proprieties. He could move about the house very silently if he put his mind to it, and he had a hundred well-considered excuses up his sleeve if he was spotted in the wrong place. But he didn’t want to get back into the bad habit of skulking around houses that someone else owned. “I suppose it will only hurt the first time a member of your family murders me.”
She laughed softly at his suggestion. “They’ll understand why you stayed when I tell them why, after the wedding.”
“Let’s hope they are not under the influence when you do.” He turned around, placing a chair directly in front of the door. “I was looking forward to continuing my part in your delightful country play.”
“Not so delightful tonight I’m afraid.”
“I’ve not had a turnip thrown at me yet.” He lowered to sit in the chair, crossed his legs at the ankle and folded his arms over his chest. If anyone came to his lady’s room tonight, Jeremy would deal with them. “Try to get some sleep.”
Fanny was suddenly beside him, shaking his shoulder. “Are you not going to sleep beside me again?”
He glanced up at her in surprise. Last night had been an aberration, a product of grief renewed and convenience that he was around. “I’m guarding you.”
She licked her lips. “Well, but, yes, so… You could also protect me from the comfort of my bed, too.”
Jeremy looked at the bed, and then at the door, and then at Fanny standing there with her plump bottom lip caught between her teeth. He knew where he’d rather sleep.
“Please,” she whispered. “I would feel better for having you near, and you need your rest for tomorrow, too.”
Jeremy carefully propped the delicate chair against the door on two legs, nudging the back under the handle and making sure it would stay there. It wouldn’t stop anyone from entering the chamber if they put their back into shoving the door. But any movement of the chair should wake him. “If anyone comes during the night, get under your bed and leave the cur to me.”
“I will,” she promised. “I feel safer already just knowing you’ll be here to confront anyone that comes.” Fanny slipped behind her dressing screen, apparently not needing his help to change tonight.
He grew warm just thinking about those delicious curves he’d held last night. His hands itched to hold her, and his mouth grew dry because he did want to kiss her properly just once before he returned to London.
Thankfully, Fanny returned quickly, attired in the same prim nightgown but with a robe over the top. She moved to her mirror to take down her hair from the tight coils she’d had it styled in for dinner.
Jeremy sucked in a breath as she unwound the strands and ran her fingers through the long locks to the ends.
Fanny turned to him. “Is something wrong?
He took a step in her direction. “Where I grew up, women only grew their hair long to sell it.”
She beamed. “Would you like to touch it?”