Page 8 of Mistress of Misfortune

“I will not twitch an eyelid, Colonel,” she assured him.

A minute after her host departed Meredith promptly broke her promise and sat up. Carefully she felt the lump at the back of her head, and then eyed her reflection in the mottled mirror across from the bed. “Don't look at me like that. I told him what a turnip-head I am.”

The other Meredith glowered back at her in silent agreement.

She closed her eyes and eased back against the pillows. Making a list of her present regrets would likely take hours, but she couldn’t resist. How could she have been so hapless as to have two accidents in a single morning? Would this appalling weather abate before nightfall? What must Colonel Thorne think of her now? Never had Meredith made such a spectacle of herself. And why in Heaven’s name hadn’t she worn her new stockings today?

You want to stay at Dredthorne,her conscience scolded her. You would happily impose yourself just so you might wallow in his attentions.

A knock sounded, and when she called “Do come in” Thorne entered carrying another, heavily-laden tray.

Meredith regarded the large pot of tea and the heaping platter of sandwiches, cakes and fruit he carried with alarm. “Do you mean to feed a regiment, sir?”

“It is not all for you. We will have our luncheon here.” He placed the tray on the bedside table, and removed from a small bowl a sodden cloth wrapped around some greenery. “My cook made up this poultice. It may smell peculiar, but I can attest to it working wonders on a sore head.”

“Have you slipped on many rugs?” she tried to joke, and then saw how the line of his mouth thinned. “Of course, you haven’t.”

“I became unseated during a battle, and my horse dragged me across a field,” he said as he brought a chair to her bedside. “I struck my head on a stone. After the fighting I had the headache for almost a week, until my cook prepared this for me.”

He didn’t like to talk about India or his time in the army, Meredith realized, and wondered why. Her cousin loved to regale his friends and family with tales of his adventures while traveling abroad with his regiment.

“I am beyond fortunate to be your guest.” She eyed the food on the tray. “Although the poultice may make dining somewhat awkward for me.”

“I have the remedy for that.” Thorne took out of his jacket pocket another length of white silk. “If you will sit up.”

She pushed herself upright, and bent forward to allow him to bind the poultice to her head. As he secured the ends she caught the scent of herbs and something like boiled onion, but the damp warmth immediately eased the throbbing. His nearness, however, once more stirred her insides with excitement.

Control yourself,her conscience ordered in a voice very much like her mother’s. Ladies are calm and composed.

“It does smell odd, but it feels very good,” Meredith said, tucking a fold of the silk behind her ear. “I might wear it on my next visit to the village. Perhaps I may deflect the gossips, and start a new trend in bonnets.”

“Or turbans for my servants.” The colonel filled a plate with food and offered it to her. “I wager I give them the head-ache more often than not. What do your village gossips say about me?”

“You mean, besides those concerning your unwelcoming behavior, which I can now wholly refute?” She couldn’t believe she’d said that, and quickly added, “I apologize. My mother tells me never to repeat such things.”

Thorne gave her a narrow look. “Just as she warned you to avoid my house.”

“I am a dreadful daughter.” Meredith sighed. “Very well. It’s said that you are an unmarried gentleman who is newly returned to England.”

His brows arched. “That’s all?”

“That’s quite enough. There are a great many unmarried girls in the neighborhood, and very few bachelors.” She held up one finger. “Our ladies do not yet know you are handsome. Once that is made common knowledge, then I fear you are in for the worst.”

“I will have my steward install additional bolts on the doors.” Thorne placed over her lap an artfully-carved bed tray, on which he placed a brimming cup of tea, more food and a small pitcher of cream. “I thank you for thinking me handsome, however. Perhaps I should marry you.”

* * *

Meredith nearly chokedon her tea. “I am very flattered, Colonel, but I believe you should consider a lady more suited to your situation in life.”

“Why should she not be you?” Thorne persisted.

He was laughing at her again, she suspected, so she would respond in kind. “Marriage holds no allure for me. I am a spinster in the making, you see, and quite determined to stay the course.”

“I thought all young ladies, even spinsters in the making, welcomed the prospect of a good match,” he said. “Do you mean to discourage me, or have you some other reason to avoid the altar?”

“I should not wish to trip and cosh my head on it.” That frank admission made him laugh out loud, something Meredith guessed he rarely did. “If you truly seek a wife, then you have but to go out into society.”

Thorne’s amusement abruptly vanished. “I think not.”