Page 5 of Mistress of Misfortune

Chapter 2

It took a moment for Meredith to set aside her dismay and respond to Alistair Thorne's alarming declaration. “Thank you, sir, but I cannot linger.”

The colonel's eyebrows arched. “You have a pressing appointment elsewhere?”

“I intended to deliver apricots to some of our acquaintances in the village, but that will be impossible in the storm.” That he didn’t recognize the impropriety of their situation seemed clear, but pointing that out would be unmannerly. “My mother warned me to stay away from Dredthorne Hall, so I should not even be here. When night falls and I do not return, she and my father will become frantic.”

“I could allow you to return home, I suppose,” Thorne said, and outside lighting struck again, causing the opaque window panes to rattle. “My carriage is presently at the wheelwright for repairs, but there is the cart. The horse may not mind a one-armed driver.”

And now he was laughing at her. “I am happy to walk,” Meredith assured him.

“On foot I expect it would take you perhaps an hour, provided you are not swept away by a sudden torrent.” The hard line of his mouth curved. “Are you a good walker in a flood, Miss Starling?”

“No one is, Colonel.” As accustomed as she was to her misfortunes, it seemed very unfair that he should be entertained by them. “I am glad that you find my situation diverting.”

“The estate agent mentioned how notorious Dredthorne Hall has become with the locals.” Thorne said. “That you survived a night under my roof should make you the heroine of the season.”

So, he knew about the curse, Meredith thought. He seemed indifferent to the rumors, which made her feel a little easier. As for her own predicament, she would simply tell her mother that she had taken refuge in the village, and no one would ever be the wiser.

“The storm should not last. They never do here,” Meredith said, but when she saw him untying his cravat she went still. “Sir?”

“Calm yourself. It is the only silk I have at hand.” Once he unwrapped the snowy length from his strong throat, Thorne folded it in half and held it diagonally across the front of his jacket. “It will serve as a comfortable sling for your arm.”

“Yes, that would be helpful.” Meredith sat forward as he draped her neck with the soft, thin fabric and cradled her arm with it. From the silk she could feel the heat of the colonel’s body, and smelled a trace of some dark, spicy scent she could not identify. She had never been so near a stranger, and the thudding of her heart perplexed her.

Why in Heaven's name did she wish nothing more than to move even closer to him?

“You should rest before luncheon.” Thorne straightened and offered her his hand. “Allow me to escort you to one of the guest rooms.”

“Thank you, Colonel.” Meredith's fingers trembled as she gripped his and rose slowly. Her head felt as wobbly as her knees, but when he tucked her arm securely in his she steadied. “You are everything kindness.”

Thorne gave her an odd look. “Hardly.”

She tried not to gawk about her as Thorne guided her out of the morning room and into the reception hall, but the timeworn beauty of Dredthorne could not be ignored. Above her head soaring ceilings adorned with paintings of cherubs and angels soared, framed by gilded alabaster carvings so intricate they appeared to be constructed of golden lace. Even the copious amount of ancient abandoned spider webs festooning them could not obscure their artful appeal. Dusty paintings occupied every wall in sight, in clever arrangements that captured the eye and invited longer contemplation. Although entirely out of fashion with the current trend of sculpture salons, the free-standing statues that appeared in random spots seemed perfectly placed, and were often flanked by over-large floor vases containing small trees and foliage. Unhappily all of the plants had died long ago.

Why didn’t the colonel have fresh flowers brought in to provide some color and fragrance to the gloomy hall? Surely there was plenty to be had from the gardens.

How presumptuous,her conscience chided. Not an hour under his roof, and you’ve already made yourself mistress of the house.

The staircase to which Thorne led Meredith flowed up from the scarred, darkened walnut floors like a long, elegant arm gesturing toward the clouds. Once more her secret desire to climb one of Dredthorne’s staircase towers returned to her, but she couldn’t ask to traipse across the house for such a whim. She paused to admire the gray-shot white marble steps, which even with the edge chipping and cracks invoked a sense of stepping onto clouds.

“You’ve noticed the abundance of fripperies my ancestors installed,” the colonel said as they proceeded up the staircase. “They quite overrun the place.”

His masculine contempt made her hide a smile. “The first Mr. Thorne was said to be quite enamored with all things French.”

“A regrettable inclination,” Thorne said. “Yet thanks to the Regent it remains an enduring craze in London. I feel fortunate not to have a pink and white writing table in my study.”

“I have heard India described as most exotic,” she said, hoping he would not think her over-curious. “Is it very different from England?”

“Indeed, for their ways are decidedly unlike ours,” he told her. “The natives consider all animals holy. They regard cows as most sacred, and never use them for meat. They paint and adorn the beasts and permit them to freely roam.”

“How exceptional.” Meredith supposed such a thing would appall most beef-loving Englishmen, but she thought the practice rather endearing. “Is it true that they travel by elephant?”

“They do. They also worship the beasts.” His jaw tightened. “As well as monkeys and snakes.”

Once on the second-floor landing the colonel guided her to a spacious guest room at the back of the house. Meredith halted outside the threshold as she took in the antique white furnishings and faded green and floral decor. From the traces of paint that remained on the walls they had once portrayed a flower-speckled meadow beneath blues skies with golden clouds. The chamber had been recently cleaned and dusted, and the linens replaced. Yet everything she saw suggested that, like the rest of the house, no one had slept here for at least fifty years.

Such a pity,she thought, and then regarded her host, whose expression seemed impatient. “I have kept you too long. Thank you again, Colonel.”