Page 80 of More or Less a Countess
Her lady’s maid appeared a short while later, and the moment she crossed the threshold and got a good look at Violet, she set the tea tray in her hands down, jabbed her fists onto her hips, and announced, “Ye look a perfect fright. What have ye been doing, crawling about the attics on yer hands and knees?”
Violet made a feeble attempt to tidy her hair, felt at once it was useless, and shrugged. “No, the library.”
“Well, I might a’ known.” Bridget pointed an accusing finger at Violet. “Ye’re covered in dust an’ grime. I daresay ye’ve ruined that gown, and—”
“Oh, for pity’s sake, will you hush? I have other gowns, and I need you to help me into one of them at once.”
“I’ll do no such thing until ye have a wash and let me brush yer hair, and ye have yer breakfast like a proper countess does.”
Violet recognized the stubborn look on Bridget’s face and let out a groan. “But I’ve so much to do this morning, Bridget. I haven’t time—”
“Ye’ll find the time, and no arguing, miss. This isn’t yer grandmother’s house, and I won’t have ye running about like a savage. Yer a married lady now, and a countess. Besides, do ye really want that handsome husband of yer’s seeing you looking like ye’ve been drug through a knothole?”
That gave Violet pause. She’d never lingered much over her toilette, preferring to keep it brief and practical, but shewasa married lady now, and she was wed to a devastatingly handsome man who’d shown far more appreciation for her appearance than she’d ever dared hope he would. If he should have a mind to stroke her hair again as he had last night, she didn’t want him coming away with a handful of cobwebs for his efforts, did she?
A blush crept into her cheeks, and Bridget noticed and let out a loud cackle. “That’s what I thought.”
As it happened, Violet needn’t have worried about the time, because even after she’d washed, dined, changed into a fresh gown, and let Bridget brush her hair until it shone, Nick still hadn’t stirred from his bedchamber.
“For goodness’ sake, what’s the matter with him? Why doesn’t he rise? Bridget, go down and see if you can coax Gibbs into waking him.”
Bridget sniffed. “Never known a man more full of himself than that Gibbs. He’s stiffer than a corpse, my lady. He won’t stir a step to help me, or you either, you may depend upon that.”
“Why, Bridget, there was a time when you could harass a corpse out of its coffin, but if you mean to say you’ve met your match at last, then—”
“Met me match, indeed.” Bridget snorted at the very idea. “Certainly not, leastwise not in that dry old stick. All right, then, I’ll get him up here quick enough, but don’t think I don’t see what you’re doing, my lady.”
Violet had no idea what Bridget did to persuade Gibbs to do her bidding, but when the maid returned she was flushed with triumph, and not five minutes later Violet heard Nick’s bedchamber door creak open, and muted male voices on the other side of the wall.
“Bridget, you’re brilliant! However did you get him to—”
Crash!
The loud noise made them both jump, and Bridget slapped a hand over her mouth. “Oh, mercy. It sounds like he knocked the tray—”
“Out! And don’t bloody come back until you’re called!”
Violet blanched at Nick’s furious roar, but she couldn’t quite prevent a grin at such a shameful display of unapologetic bad temper. “Well, it, ah—it sounds as if his lordship is awake at last.”
Bridget’s eyes were wide. “We were better off when he weren’t.”
“Yes, please do go down and offer my apologies to Gibbs, won’t you, Bridget? You may assure him I’ll never ask for that favor again.”
No, if Nick was going to fall into tempers and shout until the windows rattled, then he could shout at her. From now on, she’d handle her husband herself. How fortunate she had such quick reflexes. One wouldn’t think she’d need them for a courtship, but here they were.
Once Bridget had scurried out the door, the tray rattling in her hands, Violet crossed her bedchamber, and, throwing her shoulders back with determination, she opened the connecting door and slipped into Nick’s room, closing it with a soft click behind her.
Nick’s hearing was evidently as acute as her reflexes, because he bolted upright in the bed, a frightening scowl on his face. “Damn you, Gibbs, I told you toget out—”
His mouth dropped open when he saw Violet standing there. “What the devil are you doing in my bedchamber?”
Violet hadn’t expected him to be overjoyed to see her, but the short speech she’d planned to deliver froze in her throat as she stared at him, unable to say a word.
His chest was bare.
Oh, dear God, where was she meant to look?
Violet’s brain might not have known the answer to that question, but her eyes certainly did. His shoulders were so…and the hard muscles in his arms were like…and his chest, the solidity of it…she’d felt it before, slid her palms over it, but even so she never would have guessed it was so, so…
