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to worry, as he would keep her very safe. She was to go to the theatre
with some friends," Claire said, worried. What had happened to Thea?
Claire prayed she had changed her mind and was safe in Lady Buxstead's
care.
"Certainly I will ask my servants, but I don't think you need to worry
about Miss Dunford." Mrs. Robards rose from the bed.
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"I will, however, send Jack to you."
"He is here?"
"Yes, although he does not particularly seem to be enjoying himself.
He has something else on his mind, I fear. But perhaps after he sees
you. "
"Please don't send him here. I just want to go home." Claire felt
panicked by the thought.
"But, my dear, he will be furious if I do not." An amused smile lifted
her lips.
"But he'll be even more furious with me if you do." How could she ever
explain this to him?
"I dare say you might find me strangled," Claire finished
despairingly.
Mrs. Robards gave a gurgle of laughter and Claire saw what Thea meant
by smiling eyes.
"I doubt it." She paused by the door.
"Just remember to treat him kindly. He is not used to being in love."
Claire stared after the closed door in shock. Surely Mrs. Robards had
not been implying Jack was in love with her? He could not be. Claire
sank back on the pillows. She could dismiss Jane's romantic
speculations, but for Mrs. Robards to hint the same thing was another
matter entirely.
And now what was she to do? Trapped in Mrs. Robards's richly
decorated bedchamber, she felt as if she was awaiting a lover. This
was ridiculous.
Claire gingerly swung her feet over the side of the bed, trying not to
brush her sore foot against the covers. But putting the least weight
on her foot nearly made her yelp. Limping from the bedchamber to her
coach was impossible. Besides, she would most likely get lost in the
unfamiliar house.
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She finally lay back against the pillows, tired and frustrated, and
extremely apprehensive.
Jack threw down his hand, caring little that he'd lost again. Lord
Ashton grinned as Jack shoved his vowels toward him. He was dressed as
Puck.
"Another round, Rotham? At this rate, I'll recover the entire amount
I've lost to you over the past few years."
Jack downed his glass of brandy.
"Later." He rose, too restless to sit for another hand. The small
room used for card games was crowded and hot. An air of unreality hung
over it, rather like a vision of hell, with no, one quite what they
seemed.
"My lord." He turned to find a footman standing next to him. Or at
least he thought he recognised the man as one of Sylvia's servants.
Since members of the upper classes enjoyed masquerading as servants,
he
couldn't quite be sure.
"Mrs. Robards wishes to speak with you."
Jack followed him out of the card room. He was surprised and more than
a little puzzled when the man led him up the ornate winding staircase
and towards Sylvia's own private apartments.
Sylvia came from her small saloon, a little smile on her face, although
she looked rather worried.
"What is it?" he asked, taking her hand. They had briefly been
lovers, but now were good friends, and he still cared about her
welfare.
"Tis nothing to do with me. But I fear Mrs. Ellison is here and
has--' " Claire is here? " He stared at her, his mind hardly taking it
in.
"Impossible!"
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"She is in my bedchamber." Her hand gripped his.
"Listen to me; I am certain she has sprained her foot. She is here
because she thought her niece came with Harry Devlin and Mrs. Ellison
wanted to rescue her."
None of it made sense to him. Only that Claire was hurt.
"What happened?"
He waited until Sylvia finished, his anger and concern growing.
"I
want to see her," he said grimly. He shook off Sylvia's hand.
"Of course." She touched his sleeve.
"But only if you promise not to scold her too much. She fears you mean
to strangle her."
"Does she?" A slight smile lifted his lips.
"I might." Sylvia opened the door to her chamber, allowing Jack to
precede her in. His heart leapt to his throat when he saw Claire's
pale, wide-eyed face. He stared at her for a moment, scarcely noticing
when Sylvia left the room. Then he stalked towards the bed.
Claire watched him with an odd mixture of relief and apprehension. It
took all her will-power to keep from shrinking back in the bed. He
looked grim, as if he'd caught her doing something improper. But
surely attending a masquerade wasn't all that horrid. Maybe he'd been
interrupted in something. A vision of the couples she'd spotted
stealing kisses flashed through her mind. Certainly he was not quite [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]