Mistletoe and Mayhem - Cheryl Bolen Page 0,148

in the green gown. Sarah began to fix her hair.

“All the gentlemen are in that wing,” Dorothea said. How inconvenient, for what excuse would she have if she were caught there?

“Yes, miss. Lady Alice says it’s more comfortable for the ladies that way, but what if they’re hoping for a visit from a gentleman?” Sarah blushed in the mirror. “Beg pardon, miss. Everyone says I talk too much.”

“No, your explanation is most helpful. I’m glad Lord Wellough is not in this passageway. He stared, making me frightfully uncomfortable.”

Sarah giggled again. “Oh, aye, he does look, but as long as he’s not too bosky, he doesn’t paw us maids, not like some gentlemen.” Dorothea’s face must have fallen, for she added hastily, “Not here, miss. Lady Alice won’t allow it, and Lord Restive never touches the help, not even the ninnies who are no better than they should be. But my cousin Lizzie ran away from her master in the dead of night, she was that frightened.”

“How dreadful,” Dorothea said. “I hope she found a better employer.”

“Yes, miss, she got taken on at the Rose and Crown, and last year she married the innkeeper’s son! Now she has the most darling baby you ever saw.”

Dorothea wished to have babies of her own, but that was impossible without a husband. Her thoughts flew instantly to Mr. Hale, who wasn’t attracted to her. How unfair, she thought, and then, how ungrateful of me. She should be ashamed of herself, for along with the advantages of birth and beauty, she would inherit a tidy sum. She didn’t need to marry, and if she had to do without children, so be it. Far better than to find oneself tied to some pompous, unintelligent man.

“Everyone’s betting Lord Restive will go to bed with the Contessa.” Sarah clapped a hand to her mouth, dropping the hairbrush. She bent to retrieve it. “Sorry, miss! But she’s a beautiful widow and he’s a handsome man. I don’t know what Lady Alice was thinking, inviting her here, for surely she knew it would mean goings-on.”

Would Restive visit the Contessa’s chamber, or she his? Hopefully the former, for that would give Dorothea the chance she needed to search his room—but she could hardly ask.

She didn’t need to, for as Sarah put the finishing touches on her hair, she said, “I hope that sort of behavior won’t offend you, miss, what with the Contessa being right next door, so to speak. But the walls are thick, so mayhap they won’t disturb your rest.”

“I’m sure they won’t,” Dorothea said.

At dinner, which included some excellent beef and the best pheasant soup Cecil had ever tasted, he was seated next to Dorothea, with the vicar on his other side and his wife on hers. Judging by Lady Alice’s twinkle, she had rearranged the seating on purpose. Dorothea sat across from the polite Dufair rather than her scowling mother; the vicar’s wife was kindly and entirely respectable, and as for Cecil—he was considered safe.

Which he was, at least as far as action was considered, but his mind sneakily conjured images of himself and Dorothea in decidedly unsafe activity. Lord Wellough’s lecherous glances showed he harbored similar thoughts. Fortunately, he was stuck next to Lady Darsington, or perhaps she was stuck with him—either way, it served them both right. Wellough asked Lady Darsington how the spying business was going these days, and she replied huffily that such matters were confidential. Which meant, Cecil knew, that Sir Frederick made sure his indiscreet wife never overheard anything she might disclose in so-called confidence. Meanwhile, Restive and the Contessa made it clear they enjoyed one another’s company a little too much.

Perfect. Cecil made up for almost a year’s worth of lost time by flirting with Dorothea. Gradually, spurts of laughter rewarded his efforts.

He glanced down the table and caught Lady Darsington eyeing both him—which didn’t matter—and her daughter with malicious intent.

“Damnation,” he muttered.

Dorothea turned startled blue eyes on him.

“I beg your pardon,” he said. “I spoke my thought aloud.”

Her gaze flicked to her mother and back to him.

Cecil nodded, surprised at her immediate comprehension. “I thought we had spiked her guns. Now I’m not so sure.”

“I wish it were so easy, but fortunately, I’m as stubborn as she. Thank you so much for trying to flirt with me.” Her sweet lips curved in a shy smile, and his heart turned over. She turned to speak to the vicar’s wife, and Cecil spent the next half hour listening to the vicar