the fact he wasn’t delighted by her presence in his house, and God knew waking the lord of the manor with such a clumsy accident was reason enough for him to dismiss her.
His ears were probably still ringing.
Why had he helped her? She’d braced herself for an outraged shout, and perhaps some gloating, but the next thing she knew his bare chest had appeared, and—
No. Not Lord Darlington’s chest, for pity’s sake. That is, his chest had appeared, but it was attached to Lord Darlington himself. She’d glanced up and found him on his knees beside her, his breeches pulled tight against his thighs and those fascinating dark hairs peeking from the opening of his shirt, and then she’d commenced that awful staring…
Her cheeks burst into flames just thinking about it. How was she ever meant to look at him again without seeing that intriguing chest hair in her mind’s eye? She’d never seen a gentleman in a state of undress before, but instinct told her it would have been far better if her first glimpse had been of a man with less impressive musculature than Lord Darlington.
Perhaps then she wouldn’t have made such an utter fool of herself.
Then again, it likely wouldn’t matter, would it? He was sure to send her away now, and she’d have to return to London and admit to Lady Clifford that Lord Darlington had dismissed her not because she’d uncovered all his secrets with her brilliant sleuthing, but because she’d been caught gawking at his naked chest.
But there was nothing for her to do but go downstairs and confess to Mrs. Briggs she’d made a mess of the first task she’d been given, and was likely to be dismissed by Lord Darlington before the morning was over.
Cecilia reached down for the coal scuttle, but as she hauled the heavy bucket up by the handle, the most dreadful thought occurred to her, and she gazed down at it in dawning horror.
The bucket was full.
Oh, no. No.
She slapped her hand over her eyes, overcome with mortification. She’d scurried out of Lord Darlington’s bedchamber with such haste, she’d neglected to light a fire for him!
She’d have to go back. He’d freeze if she didn’t, especially in that drafty shirt.
But…she couldn’t go back! There was no way she could face him now, much less build a fire, what with the way her hands were shaking. She’d be sure to set his bed hangings ablaze.
Cecilia squeezed her eyes closed and bumped her head rhythmically against the wall behind her. Oh, how had she managed to get herself into such a dreadful tangle? She hadn’t even been at Darlington Castle a single day yet, and already she’d made an irretrievable mess of things.
What in the world had ever made Lady Clifford think she could manage this task? Sophia, Georgiana, Emma—any one of her friends would have made quick work of this business, but not Cecilia. Now poor Fanny Honeywell would end up married to a murderous marquess, and it would be all Cecilia’s fault—
She jumped as a sudden, despairing shriek pierced the silence, her eyes opening wide. Dear God, that hadn’t been her who’d shrieked, had it?
Cecilia just had time to mutter a fervent prayer she hadn’t given voice to her despair when a door she hadn’t noticed beside her flew open, and a ginger-haired girl with a smattering of freckles across her nose stuck her head out into the hallway. “Oh, thank goodness you’re here! It’s Cecilia, isn’t it? I’m Amy Wells. Did Mrs. Briggs send you?”
Cecilia stared at her. “I—”
That was as far as she got before the girl seized her by the wrist and dragged her over the threshold. “She’s woken in a foul temper this morning, she has. She’ll have me at my wit’s end soon enough, I don’t mind telling you.”
“Who will?” Cecilia asked, completely baffled.
“Who? Why, Lady Isabella, of course!” The girl—Amy—pointed a dramatic finger toward the corner of the room, where a child’s bed with pink silk hangings had been arranged against the back wall. “Don’t say Mrs. Briggs didn’t tell you about Isabella?”
“No. I’m afraid she didn’t.” Cecilia and Mrs. Briggs had just sat down to their tea yesterday when the housekeeper had been called away. Cecilia had waited for her in the kitchen until she’d received a note from Mrs. Briggs explaining she’d be busy for some time, and Cecilia might retire for the rest of the evening.
She hadn’t said a word about there being a child at Darlington Castle.
Cecilia drew