A Lady's Favor (11 page)

“You are far more clothed than I was when you preserved mine.”

She smiled, albeit weakly. “Thank you,” she whispered.

She had mud in her hair and smelled like moldering vegetation but oh she was lovely! Mathew leaned down and kissed her in reply, soft and gentle.

Mrs. Collins cleared her throat in disapproval.

“I feel b-b-better alread-d-dy,” Bianca murmured.

He pulled back, and she smiled at him as he moved toward the door. “Wait,” she said when he put his hand on the knob. He turned back to see her shrugging out of his coat. “You’ll n-n-eed this.”

He took it gratefully, swung it over his shoulders, and disappeared back into the dark night with a satisfied smile on his face.

FOURTEEN

“You’re sure you’re all right?” Mama asked for the twenty-fifth time, at least.

“I’m all right,” Bianca said, also for the twenty-fifth time, at least. “I’m not even cold anymore.” It had been two days of hot-water bottles, tea, and constant fires in the grate, but she had not caught a cold and was feeling very much herself. She had even dressed today—in one of the dresses now returned to her wardrobe—and hoped she might go for a walk. The spring storm had passed and the broken tree limbs and damaged buildings were still being remedied.

“I can’t believe you were in the hayloft all that time,” Mama said, not for the first time. “How had we not found you there?”

“I fell asleep high in the loft,” Bianca said, feeling only a little bit guilty about the lie though it was getting easier to tell. This interrogation had also been repeated several times over the last two days. “And I’m so sorry, again, for raising all that alarm. I just wanted some space, and to listen to the rain on the barn roof after such a trying day. You know what comfort I took in that hiding place as a child.”

“I wish you’d chosen the linen cupboard,” Mama said.

Bianca just smiled.

Luckily for Bianca, after everything had gone so horribly wrong, things had then gone perfectly right. Relieved by her daughter’s return, Mama had not noticed the unfamiliar dressing gown, and as soon as Bianca was alone, she, with the help of the maid who owed her a favor for tattling about that first visit to Mathew, had changed out of it and stowed the clothes in her closet to be returned later.

Mama, feeling terrible about how she had acted, was finally humble enough to listen to Bianca’s feelings about Lord Strapshire and marriage in general. “I
will
make my own choice,” Bianca had said, and her mother, though she looked as though she still wanted to make some argument, had agreed. It helped that Lord Strapshire had disappeared the morning after the storm, just as he promised he would.

There was a knock at the door, and Mama exchanged a look with Bianca as she rose to her feet. Mama was humbled, but not all together unchanged in her need to manage the details of both their lives. She would intercept the note or visitor before Bianca caught sight of them, as she had done these past two days.

Bianca turned back to the book in her hands and tried to reread the page she had already read at least three times. She struggled to concentrate but thoughts of Mathew kept overriding everything else in her head. Perhaps it was the warm thoughts of him that were responsible for her recovery. His kiss in the kitchen had not been part of the game nor had protecting her reputation by helping her present herself decently. The thought that his affection might be real filled her with a tingly heat that made her eager to see him again, yet when that would be she could only guess. Mama had forbidden visitors for at least a week, wanting to give Bianca adequate time to recover and to allow the gossip of her escapade to settle.

Bianca had chosen, this time, not to argue.

“Bianca.”

She looked up at her mother’s voice, but froze when she saw who stood behind her. She attempted to stand but forgot that Mama had tucked blankets around her feet. She stumbled forward only to be caught by a pair of strong arms that lifted her to her feet and did not let go. She looked into Mathew’s face, and her fingers curled around the fabric of his sleeves.

“Are you all right?” he asked her, just as he had after saving her from Lord Strapshire.

“I am now,” she said.

He smiled.

She smiled back.

Mama cleared her throat.

“I shall order some tea and join you shortly. There is . . . something I must attend to.”

Bianca didn’t even watch her mother leave, she was too entranced by the fact that Mathew was holding her up. He stepped back and helped her to sit down again, unwinding the blanket from her feet and draping it over the arm of the couch.

“I wanted to come sooner,” he said at the same time that she said, “I’ve been hoping you would come.”

They both laughed, and she waved for him to speak first. “I came by the next day, but your mother refused all visitors. She even turned the vicar away.”

Bianca shook her head. “And she dares criticize my behavior?”

Mathew laughed. “And then my parents returned the next day—a few days earlier than I expected. I had a great deal to tell them about what had happened while they were gone.”

He waved toward his face, and she noticed the lingering bruises for the first time. An ugly green color ringed both eyes, and yet somehow it did not affect how very handsome he was.

“I hope you told them the version that does not make me look like a complete ninny.”

“Oh, no, I told them the ninny version. They found it very diverting.”

She raised her eyebrows. “You are joking!”

He shook his head, grinning wickedly. “I had to explain Mama’s missing dressing gown, and if I hadn’t told her what had happened, the servants would have. But do not worry. They are good, steady people. You’ll like them.”

Bianca blinked. “I’ll . . . like them?” She already knew them, of course, and liked them well enough despite the distance she always kept from the family, but there was something pointed in what he’d said. As though he meant more than neighborly affection.

“Or, well, at least I hope you will. It would make things easier if you got on with them as well as I think you will.”

“Got on with them?”

“When you move into Renshaw Place,” he said, easy as you please. “I would, of course, like to find a place of our own, but my parents only reside here for a portion of the year and we will have a private apartment.”

“Apartment? What?” Was she missing bits and pieces of this conversation or was he speaking in riddles? Perhaps she was not as well recovered as she thought she was.

He cocked his head and looked at her with a knitted brow. “Did I leave out the part about asking you to marry me?”

Bianca startled but then laughed. “Yes,” she said. “Yes, you left that part out entirely.”

“Oh, well, forgive me.” He slid from the settee to kneel at her feet. He looked up into her eyes as he took her hand in both of his. “I never thought that the poor girl who ended up with the sorry job of rescuing me from folly all those years ago—”

“Oh, please let us not talk of that,” she said. “That incident has haunted us both for far too long.”

“Very good,” he said with a nod. “Especially since I am much more interested in the future than I am in the past.” He paused and smiled widely at her. “Will you marry me, Bianca Davidson? Will you accept my life bound to yours as a final repayment of the favor you extended to me all those years ago? ”

She lifted her free hand to his face and rested it against his cheek. “You owe me nothing, Mr. Hensley,” she said. “It is I who have a debt to repay to you.”

“Then I shall accept your absolute love and devotion as payment in full.”

She laughed again. “I accept your terms, Mr. Hensley.”

“Of your own free will?”

“Absolutely.”

He rose up, and she prepared herself to be thoroughly kissed. But he stopped a fraction of an inch from her mouth, leaving her hungry. “I love you, Bianca,” he said in a hoarse whisper that warmed her like the sun. “And I look forward to a lifetime of adventure with you by my side.”

She leaned in, met his lips, and determined that nothing more needed to be said. What
had
she been thinking to enlist his aid in throwing off that silly old baron?

What, indeed?