Willie’s cheeks flushed a bright pink. She reached to the bed and pulled off a blanket, quickly covering his middle. “You’re hurt. What part of that don’t you understand?”
“It’s my leg. Sometimes it does this. The muscle just tightens up. I’m sure it’ll loosen up a bit once I get going.” He propped himself against the bed, strategically arranging the blanket.
“It can’t be as simple as that. You tossed and turned last night.”
It wasn’t all his leg, but he couldn’t deny he was in a great deal of pain. His personal physician blamed it on the changing of the seasons. His affected leg would seize up and cause him a bit of strife for a day or two. If he were at home, he would have locked himself away, medicated himself with a great deal of whiskey and take a long soak until it passed. “I’ll be fine after I get a bite to eat. Then we can get on our way.”
“You can’t even stand, how do you expect to sit in a carriage for all of eight hours?”
“Sustenance. That’s all I need. A nice slice of ham, maybe a poached egg. That’s all it’ll take.”
She tsked. “You’re being obstinate. No amount of toast and jam can help you now.”
George tested his strength again, this time he tried to pull himself back up to the bed. He did it, but with far more difficulty than he’d hoped. “We need to get on the road.” Even as he spoke the words, he questioned the possibility of such a feat while he could barely put himself to bed without assistance.
Willie handed him the cup of water. “As much as I wish we could, it’s impossible. Even if the road was clear, there’s no way your carriage from London would have arrived by now, so we’d have to take a coach. You’re in far too much pain to go anywhere like that.”
He set his jaw and sat up as straight as he could. “I told you, I can travel. It’s just a spasm, it will go away after some rest and a warm bath.” Every movement felt as if a hot poker were searing through his thigh.
“Really, George? You’re just as stubborn as you ever were.” She folded her arms across her chest and glared at him.
“Me stubborn? That’s the pot calling the kettle black.”
“I beg your pardon.” Her mouth fell open.
He fumbled with his leg, trying to elevate it on a pillow. “No pardon to give. You’ve always been infuriatingly stubborn.”
“I’ve been the stubborn one?”
“Don’t get me wrong…” He gave up his struggle with the pillow, leaning back against the headboard. “I’m equally obstinate and make no efforts to deny it. That’s probably the reason things between us ended so badly. One such person is an inconvenience, two together is a wretched idea.”
Willie stomped over to his bedside, roughly propping up pillows and helping guide his stiff leg to a comfortable elevation with brute force. “That’s not at all why we ended up how we did. It wasn’t stubbornness, it was your inability to remain dedicated to one woman—”
A knock at the door interrupted their conversation.
He was not going to let her accusation go without a rebuttal. “In a minute!” he shouted at the door.
“That’s not what happened.”
“George.” She held her hand up. “I refuse to get into this with you.”
The knocking was relentless. “We’ll be right there, no need to punish the door!”
Willie reprimanded him with a glance as she covered herself with a blanket. “Yes?” She answered the door.
A young man barely old enough to shave walked through, pulling two trunks in tow. “Your things. The lady of the house sent me up straight away. She said a few of the workers repairing the bridge recovered them this morning.”
“Thank you!” Willie clasped her hands together.
“Yes,” George replied with far less enthusiasm at the prospect of Willie being properly attired again. “Thank you.”
Willie helped herself to a few coins from the table and sent the lad on his way. “Isn’t this wonderful?”
No, he thought ruefully. Watching her glide around the room in her undergarments was wonderful. “Splendid,” he answered through gritted teeth.
“This one’s yours.” She quickly opened the first of the trunks. “Well, it would appear at first glance that everything is here. I’d worried that thieves would have absconded with our belongings. It looks as if we were fortunate.”
He wasn’t certain how put out he’d have been if highway men had run off with the trunks if it meant keeping Willie inappropriately attired for another day. “And yours?”
She frowned. “They didn’t bring my bag, just Kittie’s trunk.”
“Oh?” He tried not to sound overly chipper.
Willie pulled out a pink colored gown – overwrought with frills and lace. “I’m afraid we’re built quite differently. I’m afraid this won’t do at all.”
He tried to remember Miss Marks’s figure. She was shorter than Willie, and a bit thinner if he was remembering correctly. “I’m sure you can make it work.”
Willie dug through deeper and pulled out a blue dress. “I suppose I’ll have to, won’t I?”
“You don’t.”
She stopped what she was doing. “Don’t what?”
“Don’t have to. No one is making you put on clothes.”
Willie walked toward the dressing screen at the corner of the room. “You’re incorrigible, George.”
“It’s what women love about me,” he called back playfully.
He watched her silhouette through the screen. Her graceful shadow moved purposefully, unaware of the entertainment it provided. She reached up, the shadowed figure elongating, putting her curves in full display. She tossed the chemise over and instantaneously, he felt himself harden at the knowledge that she was completely nude behind that screen. It was maddening knowing the only thing separating himself from her was a thin paper barrier and a throbbing pain in his thigh rendering him incapable of walking.
George watched her shadow as she shimmied herself into the new gown, grinning like a fool as she struggled to pull the gown down over her hips and arrange it just so across her breasts.
A series of hushed expletives escaped from behind the curtain. Hardly the words one would expect to hear from such a wholesome widow.
“Is something the matter?” he asked casually.
She stepped out where he could see her. The hemline was a bit shorter than what was fashionable, which was to be expected given the height difference between the two, but it was the way the dress caught on her hips and clung to her bosom that left him speechless.
“It’s a bit snug,” she remarked, her voice timid.
Snug was an understatement. It was downright lewd as it pertained to her bosom. Perhaps finding the trunks wasn’t all bad after all. “I’ve seen worse,” he lied.
“Maybe with the type of women you associate yourself with, but in the English countryside, no self-respecting gentlewoman would dare leave her home wearing something so revealing.”
“Can’t you just stick a doily in your bosom or some such nonsense? Isn’t that what you women do?”
“A doily?”
“Yes, one of those starched lacy things. I see women wear them all the time. In your particular case, perhaps a tablecloth would work better.”
“It’s called a fichu and I’m afraid that would hardly provide the additional coverage that I appear to require.”
“Funny, I don’t remember your breasts being so…” He resorted to miming to complete his thought.
Willie slouched her shoulders, trying to minimize the issue. “They weren’t, er, aren’t. This dress is just so tight, it pushes everything up and…out.”
“You’re practically serving them on a platter.”
She gasped. “Do you mind?”
He shook his head, unashamed. “Not at all. They’re really quite lovely to look at. At least this way they’re right there where I can see them and I don’t have to pretend as if I’m not trying to stare by craning my neck and straining myself tr
ying to catch a glimpse of your magnificent bosom.”
“You take liberties, my lord.” She rummaged through the trunk, finally locating a fichu. A rather dainty, fine fichu.
“Oh, don’t start this again,” he groaned. “I’m sitting here with nothing but a blanket strewn across my midsection and you’ve been traipsing around in a chemise as sheer as if you were wearing nothing at all. Do we really have to continue playing such a boring game? Hmm?”
Her face turned beet red. “You’re exactly as I left you. A libertine! A cad!” He could see her body tremble now.
“I hate to correct you, but you didn’t leave me that way; you made me that way. Fine distinction.”
“Don’t blame this on me. You were the one who was practically betrothed to another woman. I’d say your libertine status started long before I came into the picture.” She forced the paltry excuse for a fichu down the front of her gown.
“Willie, you know that was never so. You listened to your aunt and let her poison your mind.”
“I’m not listening to any more of this.” She ran to the door. “I’ll have them send a tray up.” She muttered before slamming the door closed on any further discussion about their past.
*
Willie rushed down to the common room, confused.
She’d tried so hard not to bring up the past. Granted, she’d alluded to some of the overarching themes that had plagued their tumultuous affair, but to actually speak to specifics, well…
She wasn’t ready for that.
He showed some nerve, changing the story of their past to whatever suited him best.
And after all this time, after the letter she sent that he never even bothered to respond to…
She couldn’t.
“Lady Chesterton?”
Willie stopped and looked around for the woman in question.
“Lady Chesterton?” the older woman repeated herself from her deep curtsy.
Willie, confused, looked around again. Who would be claiming to be George’s wife?
“Lady Chesterton…” The woman was making direct eye contact with her. “We haven’t met. I’m the innkeeper’s wife, Mrs. Follmer.”
“Are you speaking to me?”
“I know it’s presumptuous to approach you, but I haven’t seen his lordship come downstairs yet. I knew he’d want to know that you should be able to leave first thing tomorrow. The bridge should be in full repair and the roads passable.”
Willie cleared her throat. “So, you met my husband?”
“Yesterday. And I do apologize for the cramped quarters, but his lordship’s decision proved to be a fortunate one. We had another couple seek shelter shortly after he decided against taking the second room. They might have had to sleep on the floor of the common room had he not done what he did.”
She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “There was a second room available?”
“Yes. Of course, it’s taken now, but we did offer to accommodate his lordship. He was quite considerate to refuse it in case there were others who found themselves in a similar situation like yours. If you don’t mind me saying, he’s a kind man to think about others like he does.”
“Yes, that was quite considerate of him. That’s him, always thinking of others,” she repeated through gritted teeth.
“Is there anything I can get for you, my lady?”
A weapon? Preferably something heavy to bludgeon him with.
“Something to break the fast? His Lordship is feeling poorly. And a hot bath if you can. His leg pains him and a soak would help a great deal.” Plus, the large tub of water would provide the option for drowning the great fool.
“Anything else I can do for you? We want to make your stay as comfortable as we can in light of the current circumstances. Every inn in the county’s full because of the storm last night.”
Willie thanked her with a smile. “If I may, I’d like to stay down here for a while. Would you happen to have any books that I might borrow to help pass the time?”
Mrs. Follmer escorted her to a small room with a tattered chair and an old wood shelf holding a few well-worn copies of popular novels. She selected one she’d read only once before then settled in. Mrs. Follmer left, promising her a tray of pastries and a cup of tea upon her return.
She flipped the book open, the words on the pages blurring together.
He lied to the innkeeper and he lied to her.
Same George, different year. Still a cad.
She slapped through the pages, not even bothering to try and read the words now. With all the newly discovered lies, she’d almost forgotten why she’d stormed off in the first place.
No, she remembered all right. He dared to bring up the past.
“Looks like the weather is clearing up nicely.”
Willie looked up to see two gentlemen walking in from the hall toward the window next to her. She sat up straighter, appearing to be intensely studying the book in her lap.
The two gentlemen were standing much too close, close enough that she could smell the onion from their last meal. She didn’t have to look up to know they were staring at her. She cleared her throat and the men took the hint, made some nonconsequential remarks, and then continued on. She relaxed her shoulders and slouched back down in the chair. It was then she realized just how much of her cleavage was exposed in spite of the fichu. She rolled her eyes.
She was seething now, her anger amplified by the annoyance she felt toward those two lechers who so rudely ogled her. She and George were stuck together for at least one more night. She could stay in the chair for the duration of their stay, though that would appear to be most uncomfortable, or she could force him to sleep in the stable, as already threatened. Of course, that would require he go willingly, and considering his limited mobility and general reluctance to do anything she said, that option seemed most unlikely.
She simply could not leave this alone. It needed to be addressed or else it would fester, just as the events of the past had. They had no time for such games – Kitty was still out there and that situation required her upmost attention.
Willie stood, the book dropping to the floor. She didn’t stop to pick it up, afraid that any hesitation would kill her momentum. She was going to give him a piece of her mind and, for once, he was going to stand there and take it.
Chapter 13
He was in a tub.
George was in the center of the room, submerged in a metal tub of water. Apparently, Mrs. Follmer wasted no time in executing her request. His black hair was slicked back and water was beading up on the smattering of hair across his chest, which trailed into a fine line down the center of his firm abdomen…
Thankfully, she could see nothing below the water line for the soap had created an opaque film across the surface.
“How dare you!” She prayed her voice came out as strong as she’d meant it to, despite her knees threatening to give out at any moment.
Why must he always be naked when they had matters of great importance to discuss?
“How dare I what?” he asked calmly, raising one cocky brow.
“You know what you did.”
“Really, you’ll have to narrow it down a bit. I dare to do things all the time.”
Her nose flared. “You lied about us being married. And you had the opportunity for a second room and failed to take it. You put me in this precarious position.” She tried to stare directly at his face, but it was more difficult than she’d thought it to be.
He pursed his lips. “I’m afraid this little confrontation might go a bit long. Do you mind if I get out? I’m starting to wrinkle.”
“No.” She practically shouted. As distracting as his naked form was, with him being submerged and unable to come close made the fight much fairer. “I don’t even see how you got in there. When I left you this morning you could barely stand.”
“The innkeeper’s wife personally saw after the preparations of my bath. She offered me a great deal of assistance, but I fina
lly convinced her to send me up a young man to help me get across the room instead of going through all the trouble herself. Like she offered. Over a dozen times. And thank you for making the request, the muscle is feeling quite recovered.”
She stomped her foot, a childish gesture, but far less destructive than throwing a pitcher across the room as was her first inclination. “Why did you trap me here with you?”
“I thought by claiming you were my wife, I would be doing you a favor. I wouldn’t want to compromise your reputation.”
“Which would not have been necessary had you gotten the second room.”
“Well, that is true. But I thought it would be a benefit to us both if we were forced to spend the night together.”
“Of course you would.” She balled her hands.
He leaned forward and stared up at her, his gaze intense. “Not like that. I thought it was time we had a talk. The talk.”
Her heart slammed against her chest. It was finally time. She’d been kidding herself all along that she’d put it all behind her. If anything, the entire mess had been laid out in front of her, blocking her from going any further in her life until she finally dealt with it. But now that the time had come, she was terrified.
She was practically a child when she fell in love with George. She’d allowed her emotions to get the better of her, to cloud her judgement and lead her astray. But now she was a woman. She’d been married, practically raised a child. She was better equipped to confront him than she had been. She had no real need to hide behind things like letters anymore, she needed to face him.
She didn’t want forgiveness, nor did she expect it. Too much had happened to warrant something as divine as that. But perhaps this would allow her to finally put it to bed?
“Well, I couldn’t agree more,” she answered.
He hesitated, as if she’d caught him off guard. “Good. I’m glad to hear we agree on something.”
Silence followed. She stood on her side of the room, and he sat in his tub on the other. Neither one of them spoke, nor even breathed.
“I heard a girl from America use the most unique phrase once. It would be perfect for a situation such as this one,” she said.
Second Chance Marquess (Second Chance Series Book 1) Page 10
