Nearly a Lady (29 page)

W
innefred followed Lilly and the maid upstairs, but the long walk went by in a blur. Her mind registered the expensive carpet under her feet, the elaborately framed portraits on the walls, and the passing of a seemingly endless number of doors and hallways, but she found it impossible to concentrate on anything but the growing knot of worry in her belly.

The house was too big. There were too many servants. She’d already forgotten the names of the maids she was following. Lady Gwen hated her. She shouldn’t have agreed to come to London.

“You’ve the blue room, miss.”

“What?” Winnefred blinked and noticed for the first time that they’d stopped.

Lilly reached out and rubbed her arm. “You look done in, dear.”

“I feel ghastly, to be honest. Lilly—”

“Get some rest.” Lilly gave her a peck on the cheek. “I’m only down the hall a little ways.”

Winnefred nodded and sighed in relief. She’d rather feared they’d be settled in different wings. But the small boost in confidence quickly diminished as she watched Lilly walk away with one of the maids. A little ways down the hall was not quite so little when that hall was very, very long.

“Miss? Would you like . . . ?”

“Hmm?” She turned and found the other maid holding open a door. “Oh. Right. Thank you.”

Winnefred gave the girl a sheepish smile and stepped over the threshold and into the most enormous, most extravagantly appointed, and most . . .
blue
room she had ever seen.

“Good heavens.”

“Shall I stoke the fire for you?”

Winnefred was only vaguely aware of nodding. She was overwhelmed by the size and hue of the room. Everything was blue—the canopy over the ocean-sized bed, the settee and matched set of chairs in front of the fireplace, the drapes over the long line of windows, even the yards and yards of carpet . . . The very fine and very expensive-looking carpet. She would spill something on it. She was certain of it.

She would have worried over that frightful inevitability longer, but a movement in the hallway caught her eye. Turning, she saw Gideon stop in front of her open door. He glanced both ways down the hall, then poked his head into her room.

“Will it suit you, Winnefred?”

“It is enormous,” was all she could think to say.

“And blue,” he added with thoughtful nod. “I’ve always thought this room too blue.”

“Perhaps . . . Perhaps I could . . .”
Go back to Murdoch House.
Oh, but even the idea of climbing back on a carriage made her stomach roll.

“Do you want a different room?” Gideon prompted.

Yes
. “No. Of course not. It was very generous of your aunt to . . . It’s only . . . It’s so big.”

“Average for a house of this size.”

“It’s
colossal
. Look at all of this space.” She spread her arms out, a small bubble of laughter catching in her throat. “Whatever is it for? Did the original occupant perform acrobatics in her bedchamber?”

The maid fumbled the poker, banging it against the metal grate.

Winnefred dropped her arms at the sudden realization of what might have been inferred from her comment. “I beg your pardon. I didn’t mean . . .” She trailed off, felt color rise to her cheeks, and dearly hoped the maid would see only her embarrassment at the slip and not the laugh that wanted to escape. The laugh she was not going to allow to escape. Absolutely not.

A helpless giggle escaped, and then another. She slapped a hand over her mouth, disgusted with herself. Bloody hell, what was
wrong
with her? It was one thing to be crass in a remote tavern with only Gideon present; it was something else to be so in his aunt’s home, in front of his aunt’s maid.

Gideon stepped into the room. “Rebecca. I believe the fireplace in the sitting room requires attention.”

“Yes, my lord.”

Winnefred watched with increasing alarm as Rebecca opened a door she had assumed led to a closet. Her hands fell away from her mouth. She didn’t want Gideon to know how awful she felt, how overwhelmed and out of place. But . . . “There’s
more
to this room? Oh, this is . . . This will never work. I
knew
it wouldn’t work.”

“What are you talking about?” Gideon asked gently.

“This.” She threw her arms out to indicate everything around her. “Me. In London. It was a dreadful idea. We’ve been here less than an hour and already I’ve been disagreeable to your aunt, made a very vulgar jest,
and
laughed at it. I should not have come.”

“Sit down, Winnefred.”

“I don’t want to sit down. We’ve been sitting down for days.”

“You’re overwrought.”

She wrinkled her nose in distaste. “Small children and silly woman become overwrought.”

“So do sensible ladies who have spent days traveling and battling illness.”

“I . . .” She hated that she knew he was right. “I’m not quite myself, it’s true. But I don’t think I can sleep, Gideon. I was so tired on the carriage, but now I’m much too . . .” She searched for the right word, but her whirling mind refused to provide it. “Too awake,” was the best she could come up with.

“You don’t have to sleep. Just lie down and close your eyes for a bit . . . An hour.”

“Just lie down? For an hour?”

“I’ll tell you a story to pass the time.”

It wouldn’t be such a terrible thing, she thought, to lie down awhile and listen to Gideon. Or perhaps it would be. She glanced at the open door to her chambers, then craned her neck to look into the sitting room.

“Are you supposed to be in here?”

Gideon shrugged. “The door is open, Rebecca is right there, you are ill, and until my brother returns, I am essentially your guardian.”

She gave him a bland look. “Are you
supposed
to be in here?”

“Probably not, but my aunt is in the orangery and Rebecca isn’t one for gossip. Now.” He took her hand and led her to the bed. “Have a seat.”

She sat on the edge of the mattress and nearly jumped out of her skin when Gideon knelt down in front of her and began to unlace her boots. “Don’t. I can—”

She pulled her foot away, only to have him snag her ankle and gently pull it back. “Hold still . . . And quit arguing.”

“I’m not . . .” She pressed her lips together to keep from arguing. When his fingers brushed bare skin at the top of her boots, she pressed them together to keep from shivering.

He pulled off one boot, then the other. “There we are. Into bed with you now.”

She stifled a sigh, though whether it was one of disappointment or relief the task was done, she couldn’t say. And to hide her confusion, she took a few extra moments rearranging pillows before lying back, her arms folded over her stomach.

“What sort of story are you going—?”

“The sort of my choosing,” Gideon cut in. He picked up a small chair near the window and settled it, and himself, by the side of the bed. “And there will be no commenting from you. This is the telling of a tale, not a conversation.”

She closed her eyes and smirked. “Aye, Captain.”

“We understand each other. Now then, how would you like to hear the story of how Lady Gwen defied her parents and married a lowly baronet.”

“Oh, very much.”

“No commenting,” he reminded her. “The story is as such . . . My aunt was promised at the age of six to Viscount Wunrow. A short, fat man with a tyrannical nature and a propensity to whistle when pronouncing the letter S. Envision a rotund, lisping Napoleon . . . Stop laughing,” he chided. “You’re supposed to be resting.”

She bit her bottom lip and nodded.

“Thank you. Not surprisingly, as Lady Gwen grew into adulthood, she became less and less enamored of the idea of becoming Lady Wunrow. She requested a release from the engagement and was soundly denied by both her family and Wunrow. He was vehement they would marry and threatened to ruin her good name should she attempt to break the contract.”

“Could he do that?”

“Not important. Rest.” He waited for her next nod before continuing. “Now, you may have noticed that my aunt is unusually tall in stature.”

“I did.”

“Shush.” This time, he waited for her to stop giggling.

“What you do not know is that she was also unusually clever for her age, and patient. She was very, very patient. She began, at age sixteen, to place lifts in her shoes whenever Wunrow came to visit. Small ones to start, then gradually increasing in size. When larger ones were not to be had, she secretly paid a cobbler to add extra height to the heels of some of her shoes. By the time she was eighteen, she towered nearly a foot over Lord Wunrow. I’m told the sight was fairly comical. And all the while, she was encouraging the attentions of a man she did care for—an unknown, unconnected, and relatively poor baronet of respectable height.”

“How do you know this?”

“Also not important. The result of her efforts is what matters. Wunrow broke the engagement—a scandal of insurmountable proportions by Haverston standards. The jilting of a viscount can mark a young lady as unsuitable for marriage, and in the eyes of the Haverstons, an unmarried lady is a useless lady, a burden.”

“That’s disgusting.”

“Stop talking. It benefited my aunt in the long run. When her young baronet came to ask for her hand—and her immense dowry—with nothing to offer in return but his lowly title, my family was all too happy to accept.”

“That’s lovely.”

“Shh. They honeymooned on the continent. Spain first, I believe. My aunt still speaks of the coastline. Golden sands and unpredictable waters. The sun shines more brightly there, or so she says. They went to Italy next . . .”

Winnefred’s mind wandered as Gideon began to describe the travels of Lady Gwen and her baronet. Her limbs grew comfortably heavy. Soon, his voice became a low, soothing murmur in the background. She was only vaguely aware of him rising from his chair, of a warm blanket covering her, and of the soft whispering at the foot of her bed.

“Shall I help her to change, my lord?”

“No, let her rest.”

And then she fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

 

W
innefred did feel improved after a long nap—an exceedingly long nap as it turned out. It was half past eight when she rose. But as much as the rest did to improve her physical well-being, it was a visit to Lilly’s chambers that lifted her spirits. She found her friend awake and sitting on the edge of a green bed in a decidedly green room.

“Good heavens.” Winnefred laughed, closing the door behind her. “This room.”

“Extraordinary, isn’t it?”

That was one word for it. “Are they all like this, do you think?”

“I imagine so.”

“But there are only so many colors to be had.” With green and blue already taken, she wondered what color was to be found in Gideon’s chambers.

“What do you find so amusing?” Lilly inquired.

“I am imagining Lord Gideon awash in a sea of pink.”

“It does make for a novel picture,” Lilly agreed, cocking her head a bit to the right.

Winnefred laughed and joined her friend on the bed. “I assume you’re happy with your room.”

“Oh, yes. Look.” Lilly pointed at a thick rope hanging from the ceiling next to the bed. “It’s a bellpull. It took Sarah twenty-three seconds to answer.”

“Twenty-three?”

“I counted.”

“You didn’t.” She could see from Lilly’s expression that she had. “What did you call her for?”

“Mostly just to see if the bellpull worked,” Lilly confessed with a giggle. “But I asked for a cup of tea. And look . . .” She jumped off the bed and opened a door into her own sitting room. “It’s bigger than our parlor. Oh, and . . .” She practically skipped across the room to pull back the drapes. “Gardens. Well, it is too dark to see them now, but there are real gardens full of flowers. Not a vegetable in sight.”

For some reason, Winnefred felt compelled to defend the garden at Murdoch House. “Some vegetables flower.”

Lilly didn’t appear to hear her. “It’s beautiful. It’s magical. I cannot believe we are finally here.”

This, Winnefred thought with a burgeoning smile, was why she had come to London. To see her friend glow with excitement and delight.

And, admittedly, the idea of a functioning bellpull in her room was intriguing. She looked at Lilly’s speculatively. “Could I ask for chocolate, do you think?”

“You may ask for whatever you like, Freddie. You’re a guest.”

Winnefred blinked at that.
A guest.
Not an intruder, or an unwanted burden, but a guest. Strange she’d not thought of herself that way until now.

“I suppose I am,” she said softly. “I suppose we are.”

She loved the idea of it . . . for as long as it took her to realize that a guest could be kicked out as quickly as an intruder. She went to stand next to Lilly by the window and lifted a hand to finger the drapes. “What do you make of Lady Gwen?”

Lilly shrugged. “She is rather imposing. But she doesn’t strike me as being unkind.”

“She looked us over as if we were livestock.”

“It wasn’t her intention to insult,” Lilly replied easily.

“How can you be so certain?”

“Because a woman like Lady Gwen has better things to do with her time than bring two unknown young women down from Scotland just to insult them.”

That made sense, but . . . “Could be she just finds it a happy side benefit.”

Lilly smiled at that. “Give her a chance, Freddie.”

She’d already decided to, but only because the woman was Gideon’s aunt. And because she couldn’t help but admire the way Lady Gwen had outsmarted Lord Wunrow.

“I will give her a chance,” she agreed. “I only hope she affords me the same courtesy.”

“She appreciates your spine,” Lilly reminded her.

“That’s true. And I appreciate hers. That’s not such a bad beginning. Maybe in time—” She stopped talking, interrupted by the loud rumble of her own stomach.