The Obsessions of Lord Godfrey - Stephanie Laurens Page 0,22
the house or the area would interest me.”
“I’ll see what I can find.”
He held out his hand, and against her better judgment, she found herself gliding to the side of the bed and surrendering her hand.
His eyes trapped hers, and he raised her fingers to his lips and pressed a mercifully brief kiss to their backs. “Thank you for bearing me company—and for bearing with me.” His lips quirked, and those dimples she’d speculated upon came into play. “And yes, I’m being deliberately charming, but that doesn’t mean I’m not entirely sincere.” He held her gaze. “Thank you for making my day pass faster. Thank you for your concern on my behalf, and please convey my thanks to your staff as well.”
She nodded and drew her fingers from his; that had been very prettily said.
With a nod to him and another to his manservant, she walked to the door.
She’d enjoyed the past hours far more than she would have believed possible, and that was rather alarming.
Godfrey watched her go. When the door clicked shut, he looked at Wally, who had been standing with the tray to one side. Resigned, he beckoned. “What have they sent me?”
“More of that broth and some bread and cheese.” Wally set down the tray, lifted the silver dome, and stepped back. “The harridan who runs the kitchen—she’s a right dragon, but her cooking’s better than fine—said you need to strike the right balance between feeding any cold and starving your fever, and that seems to mean she’s put you on this broth and short rations.”
Godfrey grimaced and picked up the soupspoon. “She might well be right.” He swallowed a mouthful. “I just want this wretched illness to be gone.”
Wally drew up a straight-backed chair, sat, folded his arms across his chest, and settled in to be patient.
Godfrey drank his soup and allowed his mind to range over his morning. From Ellie’s remarks, to make any headway with her, he needed to show—to demonstrate—his trustworthiness; he needed to convince her that despite his innate handsomeness and inherent sophistication, she would be safe in placing her trust in him.
Despite a few rocky moments, he felt he’d made a start, even while being confined to the bed.
He’d almost finished the soup when a tap on the door sent Wally to open it. He spoke to someone, then closed the door, and carrying a book, returned to the bed. “Footman brought this up.”
Godfrey set down the soupspoon and took the inches-thick tome. He opened the front cover and read: The History of Hinckley Hall. He smiled and laid the book aside, then picked up the cheese knife and attacked the slab of cheese.
After swallowing the first slice, he looked at Wally. “Miss Hinckley mentioned some local gentlemen—friends of her father’s—who are also stranded here courtesy of the storm.”
Once more sitting with his arms folded across his chest, Wally nodded. “That’ll be Mr. Edward Morris and Mr. Walter Pyne. Haven’t seen either, nor heard much about them yet, other than that they go back a long ways with Mr. Hinckley, who I’ve also yet to set eyes on. The other gentleman—the one who helped us up the drive—is stuck here, too, but the gents are keeping to the front of the house, and I’ve no cause to go wandering there.”
“Indeed. But what have you gathered from the staff?”
“Seems like Morris and Pyne are frequent visitors here—they come every Wednesday, which was how they came to be trapped with the rest of us. As for our rescuer, he’s a Mr. Masterton—he’s got some connection to the family and lives in Ripon. When the storm hit, he was on his way home from somewhere else and sought shelter here. Seems no one predicted the storm sweeping in as it did.”
Godfrey slotted that information, sparse though it was, into his mental picture of Ellie Hinckley’s life; he felt he was assembling the picture like a jigsaw, piece by piece. “What else can you tell me about the household?”
Wally dutifully reported all he’d seen and heard, but other than his views of the staff, who, reading between Wally’s lines, seemed to be devoted to the family, Wally had gleaned little that extended Godfrey’s knowledge beyond what he’d already learned from the elder daughter of the house.
As for her, with a few well-directed queries, Godfrey confirmed what he’d started to suspect, namely, that on her mother’s death, Ellie Hinckley had stepped into the critical central