She appeared so worried he forgave her for the impropriety of invading his home. However, no one else would if they discovered she was here. “You were here while I was sleeping? Is Peter with you?”
“No. Peter does not know I’m here. I begged your housekeeper to let me check you were still breathing as she was too afraid to come near you.”
She twisted her hands in her lap, reminding him the girl should be sent away for her own good, although it was likely far too late to save her reputation. Someone may have seen her enter his bachelor household. They would make the wrong assumption about her presence and any talk would ruin her. She had to leave. “Mrs. Lynch,” he bellowed.
“She cannot hear you. Mrs. Lynch needed to visit her sister in Hove urgently and I gave her permission to go since you were still asleep. I told her our housekeeper would watch over you in her place. Of course, my housekeeper knows none of this.”
David shook his head. “Miss Watson—Abigail. What of your reputation? What were you thinking to invade a bachelor residence? If word of this gets out, there will be hell to pay.”
She’d have no choice but to marry him and that wasn’t what he wanted for her. Abigail deserved a choice in who she wed.
“I was thinking someone I considered a friend might need someone to look after him,” she said softly. “Your breakfast is growing cold.”
David glanced down at the overflowing tray. He couldn’t deny he was starving. To sleep even half as long as he had was unusual for him and his stomach protested the lack of nourishment. He’d eat first and then see Abigail returned home and deal with whatever consequences befell them later. He glanced at the tray and at her apron again.
“I promise my cooking will not harm you. Peter suffers it well enough when I can convince Mrs. Simpson to let me into the kitchen.”
David groaned at the thought of Abigail slaving over a hot oven on his behalf. That was not the life she should have. She should be pampered not put to work. How could he possibly repay her kindness and concern? Words were his only choice for now. “Thank you, Miss Watson. I may sound churlish and severe about you being in my home and unchaperoned, but I do appreciate your efforts. I just hope we can return you to your house before you are discovered.”
He attacked the plate, savoring each bite as he tried to adjust to the lost time. He couldn’t believe he’d been quite that tired as to sleep through an entire day, a night, and half another day. Abigail perched on the edge of her chair. She studied him, or rather stared at him, eyes wider than he’d ever seen them. When he glanced down, he realized his sheet had fallen, exposing his bare chest to her innocent eyes. He jerked it back up again and tucked it under his arms. “This is delicious but if you’re not going to leave, I’ll need a shirt or robe to put on.”
Young women would not be used to seeing so much of a man. He was surprised she hadn’t fled but then she had seen naked men before, albeit at a distance when she’d followed her brother to the beach. Hopefully, she didn’t remember much of that. Unfortunately, he couldn’t get out of bed to cover himself decently. He hadn’t a stitch of clothing on and he didn’t want to shock her if she saw any more of his skin at close range.
“Of course, you must be cold.” She bounced up from her chair and flung his wardrobe doors wide.
Actually, he wasn’t in the least bit cold. David’s pulse raced and his body burned with unaccustomed heat. Keeping hidden how she affected him proved difficult. He’d never imagined Abigail might sneak into his house—or any man’s house—for that matter. He’d always thought her rather proper and restrained until the day before yesterday. What else about her had changed during the last year?
She stood before his wardrobe, her fingers sliding over his clothing as she searched for what he’d requested. When her hand passed over his robe twice, he cleared his throat. “That’s my robe on the right.”
She jumped and quickly acquired the garment, but then she lifted the material to her nose as she turned. Her gaze flickered over his body and he tensed again at the odd expression in her gaze. As she drew closer, her bold appraisal added to the torture. How much more of this he could stand before he pulled her into his bed he didn’t know, but it was imperative that she leave. Now. Before he dragged her against him and completed her education on kissing and expanded her understanding of male anatomy.
She held out the robe. “I have a problem.”
David had one, too. His attraction to Abigail was an unforeseen complication to his life which would make calling in Peter Watson’s debt that much harder. He quickly settled the material around him, belted it at the waist and repositioned the tray to cover his aching privates. “Oh?”
“I have no idea how to convince my brother to marry.”
David picked up a piece of cake and bit into it as he considered how to answer. “There is an old saying that you can lead a horse to water but you cannot make him drink,” he said eventually.
Abigail slumped back in her chair. “Exactly. I can dangle many pretty girls beneath his nose, but bringing him to the point of proposing is beyond my experience.”
David frowned. “Forgive me for being indelicate, but I had recently h
eard you’d had experience with marriage proposals. Three wasn’t it?”
Her eyebrow arched. “Who told you about my suitors?”
“Mr. Merton mentioned them yesterday. He saw you—us—in the lane the other night.”
A bright blush swept over her cheeks. “Did he threaten to tell my brother?”
“Surprisingly, no. However, I did promise him no further mistakes would be made.”
Her nose wrinkled quite adorably as she frowned. “And I’ve ruined that for you today by coming here unescorted. Never mind that now.” Her expression turned thoughtful. “The proposals I received were a surprise to me. I did nothing to bring them about. One fellow asked me immediately after our first dance. I’d never met him before that night so I was taken aback by the abruptness.”
“And the next?” David took a second bite into the seed cake, cursing himself for asking about her suitors in the first place. Who had asked her for her hand in marriage would gain him nothing but prolong her time in his house.
“By letter. Anonymously.”