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“I am Lavinia, of course,” she said.
“Now that that has been taken care of, it is time for us to retire—you to the bed, me to the floor by the fire. I, for one, am exhausted.”
“You don’t need to do that—” She stopped short when he gave her a speaking glance.
“What are you suggesting?” he asked in a low voice.
“Nothing!” Good heavens, he couldn’t think she was insinuating some sortof romantic liaison with him! They’d barely reached a truce for the night—notto mention she hadn’t kept all her admirers at arm’s length for years for nothing. “What I mean is that I have inconvenienced you enough already. You may havethe bed, and I’ll sleep in the chair. It is really quite comfortable—”
“Miss Fern—er—Lavinia,” he said. “I spent most of the past seven years fighting the French in Spain; the floor will be a luxury compared to what I am used to. As a gentleman, I will not sleep a wink if you are not ensconced in pillows and blankets and goose down and happily dreaming of your friends and your idyllic farm up north. Now, if you will excuse me, I intend to take a late stroll through the courtyard while you do whatever it is ladies do when they prepare to retire for the night. I will take the room key and let myself in when I return.”
Lavinia was too tired to argue, and Lucas Jennings seemed an honorable gentleman—at least so far. One could never entirely let down one’s guard.
“Thank you, Lucas,” she said.
He picked up his hat and the room key. “Sweet dreams, wife.” He left, and Lavinia heard the key turn in the lock and the sound of his boots fade as he walked down the corridor.
She let out a huge sigh and tugged off her cap. It was time to remove her disguise.
