And, indeed, when she suddenly straightened and caught his stare, she glared. “I need to go home. I told Winter I was coming to see you, but I never expected to spend the night! He’ll be worried.”
“Naturally,” he said in what he hoped was a soothing voice. “But it’s just dawn. Surely you can stay long enough to break your fast?”
“No. I need to get home,” she muttered. “I can’t have my brothers thinking we’re lovers.”
He opened his mouth, but some sense of survival kept him from pointing out that they were lovers.
Instead he said patiently, “I’ll ring for a maid to help you—”
“Oh, no!” She held up the remains of her stays.
He winced. “Ah. Allow me to send one of my maids to purchase you a new one.”
“That will take hours!” She was back to glaring at him again.
He sighed. He’d never particularly enjoyed rising early, but it was quite evident he wouldn’t be allowed to lie abed this morning.
Lazarus threw back the covers and rose, permitting himself only a moment’s satisfaction when she took one look at the tent in his breeches and blushed violently. He crossed to the cord and rang for Small. After a sotto voce conference at the door to his room—Temperance had retired to his bed—the valet acquired a set of stays from a maid, and in half an hour, Mrs. Dews was properly attired again.
Lazarus lounged in a chair, watching as she tied her cloak quite firmly under her chin. Every hair was in place, a white cap sat primly on her head, and she looked every inch the respectable matron of a foundling home.
He hated the look.
“Wait,” he said as she put her hand on the doorknob.
She turned impatiently but looked wary as she saw him prowling near.
“I need to make some investigations tonight,” he said. “I had word of a man I should question when I returned home last night.”
She bit her lip. “Of course.”
He nodded. “Then be ready at eight o’clock.”
“But…”
He bent and kissed her hard, his mouth forcing hers open, thrusting in his tongue as she gave way.
When he raised his head, she was looking at him in alarm. He smiled. “Good morning, Mrs. Dews.”
And he watched as she turned and left his bedroom. Her spine was straight, and she never looked back. Perhaps she’d already decided to put their night together behind her.
If so, he pitied her. For he had every intention of bedding her again.
Chapter Thirteen
Meg spent the rest of the day quite happily combing out the tangles from her long flaxen hair. Early the next morning, she braided her hair and wound it about her head in a golden crown. She’d hardly put the last pin in when the guards came to bring her before the king. This time the throne room was filled with a bevy of lovely ladies. Each was more graceful than the last, their faces painted delicately to highlight their dazzling beauty.
In the midst of this feminine bounty, the king lounged, large and masculine and isolated. His gaze immediately went to Meg.
Without preamble, he asked, “Do you love me, my concubines?”
As one, the ladies turned and, with various simpering expressions, said, “Yes!”…
—from King Lockedheart
What had she done?
Temperance stared blindly out of Caire’s carriage as it rolled through the bright London sunshine. She’d succumbed to the temptations of the flesh, had lain with a man not her husband—for the second time in her life. She should feel guilt and sorrow and perhaps panic, and she did feel all those things. But at the same time, there was a spark of joy deep within her breast that stubbornly refused to be quenched by all her doubts.
She’d lain with Caire and she was happier for it.
Still, she was bracing herself to meet Winter’s disapproval when the carriage stopped near the home. And, indeed, when she descended, she saw that Winter stood outside the home’s front door. Oh, dear.
He watched her approach, his dark brown eyes intent, but when she drew near, he merely said, “Come inside, sister.”
Temperance followed him, subdued. She half expected him to quiz her on her absence the previous night, but he simply led her into the kitchen instead. There, Nell was supervising the cooking of the morning meal, Mary Whitsun in attendance. Nell rolled her eyes at Temperance’s entrance, obviously agog with questions she couldn’t ask at the moment.
Winter turned as if to go, but Temperance laid her hand on his arm. “Silence?”
He shook his head, turning his face from hers. “Neither she nor William have communicated since he sent word that the cargo was returned.”
Temperance released a breath. “And Asa?”
“I don’t know. He and Concord aren’t speaking. I fear he’s disappeared again.”
She nodded dismally. Their family had splintered apart in only a matter of days.
“I must go to the school,” Winter said.
“Of course,” she replied, dropping her hand.
He hesitated. “Are you truly well, sister? I worry for your welfare.”
She nodded, her eyes on her shoes. What must he think of her?
She felt the brush of his hand on her hair, light and comforting, and then he was gone from the kitchen.
“We missed you last night, ma’am,” Mary Whitsun said softly. She was busy stirring the porridge over the fire and would not meet Temperance’s eyes.
Temperance sighed and considered avoiding the issue. But that wasn’t fair to either Mary Whitsun or herself. “I’m sorry. I neglected you and the other children. I should never have left you so abruptly last night.”
Mary gave her an inscrutable look, much too old for a twelve-year-old child. “It’s all right, ma’am.”
Temperance winced.
“It’s just…” Mary had slowed her stirring until the big wooden spoon was nearly motionless in the pot. “Mr. Makepeace said that a lady was making inquiries about girl apprentices yesterday evening. He said it might be a good position for me.”
Temperance’s heart squeezed. She wasn’t ready yet to let go of Mary Whitsun, but she must face the reality of her position.
“I see.” She found she had to clear her throat. She smiled brightly to cover the pause. “Well, that’s good news, isn’t it? I’ll discuss this with Mr. Makepeace and make sure the position is a good one for you, Mary.”
Mary ducked her head, her little shoulders slumping. “Yes, ma’am.”