One Week As Lovers (Somerhart 3)

“What do you mean?”

“In the servants’ hall.”

Her blood skidded to a halt in her veins. “Oh, that? We were hiding. Together. Nothing more. Just hiding.”

“Nothing more, eh? Well, you must’ve had an awful time of it in the dark then.”

Cynthia hesitated. “How so?”

“Why, your mouth was all pink and swollen. I daresay you banged into the wall two or three times. Awkward place to hit your face though. Poor thing.”

Trying her best to think as Mrs. Pell tugged the dress down her arms, Cynthia held herself still. She breathed in and breathed out and told herself not to worry.

Mrs. Pell cleared her throat. “You know, if his lordship takes your virtue, he’d likely marry you.”

“Pardon?” The word nearly choked her, it leapt so quickly from her mouth.

“He’s an honorable man. He always has been.”

“What, exactly, are you suggesting?”

“That you follow the natural course of events and lie with him.”

“Mrs. Pell!”

The housekeeper shook out the gray dress with a snap. “Oh, don’t ‘Mrs. Pell’ me. You think I don’t know what you two were doing in the dark?”

“We were kissing!”

“And you both clearly enjoyed it.”

“I…” She watched as the woman casually gathered up the new dress and brought it over. Even as flummoxed as she was, Cynthia still couldn’t keep from sliding a hungry gaze over the soft waves of green fabric. “I hate to disabuse you of your ridiculous imaginings, but perhaps you didn’t see the way he bolted out of there like a man chased by an angry boar.”

Mrs. Pell eased the dress over Cyn’s head. “If he’s afraid of his feelings for you, it only goes to show how strong they are.”

“You’re mad.” The dress began to tighten around her as Mrs. Pell fastened the hooks. “He couldn’t marry me regardless.” Her stomach

flinched at her own words.

“Men have done stranger things.”

“As if I’d want to ruin his whole family by tricking him into matrimony.”

The housekeeper sniffed. “Fine then. ’Twas only an idea.”

“A fairly shocking one, I’d say.”

Mrs. Pell seemed unmoved by her outrage. “I was a young woman once too, you know. I’ve been tempted to the occasional roll in the hay. Some of them even when I wasn’t so young.”

That distracted Cyn. “With who?”

“There was once a rather handsome stable master employed at Cantry Manor.”

“Took him for a ride, did you?” Cyn giggled before it occurred to her just who the stable master had been. “Old Mister Thurgood?” she squeaked, trying to imagine the appeal of the gruff man with the gray beard.

“His name was John. And he wasn’t so old. No, he wasn’t old at all, missy. Now then. Let’s sneak into his lordship’s room so you can see yourself.”

Swimming through new images of Mr. Thurgood that she didn’t care for, Cynthia let herself be pulled into Nick’s room.