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Lord Dalmeer’s gaze fell upon her, and his expression shifted into something teasingly severe, only to change, growing alert as his eyes searched her face.
“I think we shall need more ribbon,” she said, annoyed to find her voice shaky. “There is still a great deal to do. When you have finished, perhaps you would be willing to help us…”
Miss Caldwell looked ready to make their excuses, but the earl spoke before her.
“Of course,” he said, his eyes still fixed firmly on Nell. “We are just finishing here. There is one more doorway to do, but my arms could use a respite.”
Nell thanked them with all the genuineness she possessed, and for the next hour, she worked without fear of Mr. Fowell’s advances.
But she could not avoid him forever. She would not even be able to avoid him for the next two hours, for he would be seated beside her at dinner. She could only be grateful there would be enough people around them that he would likely be on his best behavior.
Had she given him some indication that she would welcome his advances? That was the question she continued to ask herself. Had her polite smiles been interpreted as something more? Or had he simply assumed what type of woman she was based on what he knew of her past?
Whatever the reason, it made her feel ill. Perhaps another year’s solitude would have been wise before venturing into public.
The four of them separated to dress for dinner once the Antique Passage was decorated, and Nell walked the length of the passage, noting the sound of footsteps echoing behind her on the stone floor. She was afraid to look back and find Mr. Fowell following her.
When she turned the bend, however, she could not prevent herself any longer.
But it was Lord Dalmeer who trailed her.
“Where exactly are you going, Miss Prescott?” he asked as he approached.
“To dress for dinner. Where are you going?”
“To dress for dinner.” He regarded her curiously, and they began walking the second stretch of the Antique Passage together. “Are you lost again? You might have followed Miss Caldwell and Mr. Fowell to the stairs, you know.”
“It would not have done me much good. My bedchamber is this way.”
He shot her a quizzical look. “Are you certain of that?”
She huffed out a laugh. “Unequivocally.”
He stopped, his amusement shifting to something more like concern. “Do you mean to tell me that you were given a bedchamber in that corridor there?” He pointed to the doorway that led to her room.
“Very astute, my lord. That is what I mean to tell you. Now, if you will excuse me…” She continued walking.
He skipped up beside her.
She gave him a strange look as they turned into the darker corridor. “You do not need to escort me, Lord Dalmeer. I was lost but the one time.”
“I am not escorting you.” He stopped.
She hesitated, trying to understand his strange behavior—until it dawned on her why he had stopped in front of the door next to hers.
He put a hand on the doorknob. “This is my bedchamber.”
Seven
ARCHIE
The look on Miss Prescott’s face was priceless.
“But…but…this is your house,” she said.
“It is,” Archie agreed. “What of it?”
“I merely thought you would prefer a room that…” She closed her pink lips.
