Page 5 of A Rogues & Gentlemen Christmas

She sighed and shook her head. “Oh, no. There is no one here. For now, you may call me Odette, and I shall call you Charlie.”

“Charles,” Chance corrected with a smile.

“Well, Charlie, would you please cook me one of those potatoes you had for lunch? I am ’ungry, and it smelled very good.”

Chance lifted an eyebrow at her imperious tone but then met her eyes and saw a glint of amusement there.

“Of course,” he said. “If you tell me how you came to be here.”

She disappeared into the pantry, where Chance had put the remaining vegetables, and returned holding a large potato, which she held out to him.

“How did you come to be here?” she asked politely.

Chance took the potato from her and walked to the fire. “I told you. I was on my way home for Christmas and I got caught in the storm.”

“And where is home?” she pressed.

“About three miles in that direction.” Chance waved vaguely to the north, though he had in fact been heading west. “Where is your home, Odette?”

She watched as he stirred up the fire and then pulled some embers to one side to cook the potato.

“Tours,” she said, looking a little smug.

Chance sighed. “Have you ever been there?”

Her face clouded and her dark brows drew together.

“Non,” she admitted. “I was born in England.”

“You don’t like it?” he guessed, assuming he would now hear a barrage of complaints about the weather, the food, and the awful men.

Instead, she simply shrugged, looking rather melancholy.

“I do not know it. Until a week ago I lived with my uncle, on his estate. He escaped France with my father and mother, during la terreur. His son, André, told me he overheard the servants talking some years ago. They said that my parents had been prepared to leave but uncle refused to go, refused to believe he was in danger until… well, it was almost too late and he had to leave so much behind. He was—is—very angry. Then my parents died in a carriage accident when I was two and he raised me as his own, but I ’ave seen no one, ’ad no society, for he wanted me to marry his son. My cousin!” she said, shaking her head in horror. “He was like my brother, but then he died of scarlet fever, and so….”

She shrugged and Chance forced himself to tear his eyes away, aware he was staring. It was hard not to. The young woman was like no one he’d ever met before. Her eyes sparkled with passion and her accent, which was faint when she was calm, became ever stronger as her temper rose.

“And so…?” he pressed, certain now that she had run away from something or someone.

She shrugged again and her face shuttered up. He suspected he’d get no more from her for the time being, so he changed the subject.

“How did you find this place?”

“I had been walking for… oh, I don’t know, a very long time, and I realised I was lost. Then I realised I did not want to go back anyway, but it was dreadfully cold and I thought perhaps the lady of the house might let me sit by the fire. There was no one here, yet it looked so nice and clean, and so… I broke a window,” she admitted, looking guilty as she pointed towards the scullery. “Down there. I shall leave money for the repair of it, though.”

Chance smiled. “I’m glad you found somewhere safe, out of the cold.”

She snorted at that. “It was, until you arrived. Have you any idea how uncomfortable I was last night? You stole my bed and my fire.”

“I did no such thing,” he retorted. “I didn’t even know you were here. If you’d only announced yourself, I should have let you have both.”

“Ah, yes, that would be very sensible of me, telling a gentleman he was all alone in the house with a bed and a helpless female.”

The derision in her eyes was blatant and, though Chance could not fault her logic, some devil in him could not help remark: “Somehow, I doubt very much that you have ever been helpless.”

She grinned at him then, an expression that lit up her face and made Chance feel very much as if he’d been hit in the head.

“Thank you,” she said. “That is a nice thing to say.”