Page 34 of The Consolation Prize

Armand suppressed a sigh. “I’ll see what can be done.”

He had no sooner hauled the mattress from the room, than Rose reappeared with a jug, a basin of water, and a hard cake of soap under her arm. She retrieved it and held it out to Una. “I’ve never used it, as I don’t like the smell.”

Una took a sniff. “That’s because it’s lye. It cuts through grease and dirt, but it’s very harsh on the skin.” Rose looked down at her rosy fingers in concern. “It has to be done I’m afraid,” Una told her bracingly. “All the furniture needs washing down. We’ll do it together.”

They then set about it with gusto, and even Rose put her back into it. To her delight, Una found the dresser was carved charmingly with intertwining leaves and flowers that were replicated on the matching trunk. The cabinet had beautifully painted doors with scenes of ladies walking beneath trees and embracing unicorns.

“Isn’t it lovely!” Rose had cried. “Why, I don’t remember ever seeing this before, though I suppose Granny must have shown it to me.”

“Where is your room, Rose?” Una asked.

“I took over my grandmother’s room in the servant’s quarters,” Rose told her happily. “It’s very comfortable, though not fancy like this one.” Una privately reflected that the housekeeper likely would have the best of the servant’s rooms, save perhaps for the steward.

“Do your parents live locally, Rose?”

Rose shook her head. “My mother and father died of a fever sickness when I was fifteen. I was only spared because I had left four weeks before to take up my post with Mrs. Gaventree. I have no one left now to me in all the world.”

When the mattress reappeared an hour or so later, it had been restuffed, and they set it on the bed and dressed it in the clean sheets. It looked so inviting to Una at this point, that she was tempted to simply fall onto it. Instead she sent Rose in search of a broom, and the twiggy threadbare thing she returned with was just about fit to sweep the mounds of dust out of the door and into the hallway.

Abelard was very disturbed by the appearance of the broom and Rose had to coax him out from under the dresser. “Poor little creature!” she exclaimed. “Why he’s trembling.”

“He has been very cruelly treated by his former owner, I’m afraid. He may likely have been struck with a broom,” Una reflected. “Perhaps you should take him up in your arms while I do this?”

Rose was happy to oblige and cooed and fussed over Abelard while Una finished sweeping. She had just finished when Armand strode back into the room carrying a steaming jug and basin, which he set down on the dresser.

“You, out,” Armand said briefly to Rose. “You can get down to the kitchen and start washing those pots.” Rose’s face crumpled, but she set Abelard down and fled after a quick curtsey in Una’s direction. “Well, you’ve worked miracles,” he said. “But now it’s time to wash and sleep.”

Una was frankly too tired to even think about disagreeing. When she fumbled with her lacing, he came over and helped her with an efficiency that made her wonder if it was not the first time he had helped a woman undress. She did not ponder it for long, however, as the hot water was too appealing. She washed with a thankful sigh, then crossed to climb into the high bed.

Abelard had curled up under one of the tall-back chairs and looked as comfortable as the nervous little dog ever did. She would have to make him a little blanket of his own, she thought, as she drew the covers up to her chin. Another item on her long list of things that needed to be done. Armand was now stripping, and she meant to wait for him to finish washing to inquire after Otho, but her head had no sooner hit the pillow, than she fell into a deep sleep.

When she woke, it was to the sight of Armand’s profile on the pillow next to her. He was fast asleep, his face relaxed in repose. Without his twinkling eyes on display and the smile that so frequently played about his mouth, he looked a good deal more daunting, despite his slumber. His jaw was firm and determined and covered now in dark stubble, for he had not bothered to shave. His brows were black and straight, and Una wondered she had not noticed these more formidable features before.

She suspected she had been distracted by those pretty eyes, which were some shifting shade between green and blue, like the ocean when the sun hit it on a summer’s day. Then too, there was that laughing mouth, she reflected, and the teasing quick words. When they were not in evidence, you noticed other things. Her gaze traveled over the expanse of his broad chest and the bulging muscles in those arms, one of which was tucked behind his head, the other resting beside her.

King Wymer had been right in thinking he was a fine figure of a man. She sighed and rolled on to her back, looking up at the arched beams above her. Lynwode was a beautiful house, well proportioned and spacious. For the first time in her life, the dice had rolled, and she had been revealed as a winner. True, the house needed a thorough going over, but she liked to be kept busy. Her three years under house arrest was the longest time she had been kept idle, and even then, she had made it bearable by plying her needle.

She glanced toward the window, but stained glass was not the best type for enjoying the view. Sitting up, she drew back the covers to climb out, when Armand’s arm wrapped around her waist.

“Where are you going?” he murmured. Glancing back at him, she saw his eyes were still closed and wondered if he was still half-asleep.

“I was just going to look out of the window and determine what o’clock it is.”

“Does it matter?” He frowned without opening his eyes.

“Well …”

He tugged at her waist and Una relented, lying back down beside him. Did he even realize who his current bedpartner was? He shifted closer with a gusty sigh until the length of his body was pressed fully against her, his arm holding her close.

“You can’t be fully rested, so go back to sleep,” he recommended grumpily. Una held her tongue, too surprised to point out that she usually slept poorly in unfamiliar places, and also because apparently he knew full well who she was. After a few minutes, his steady breathing and big solid body lulled her into relaxation and she felt herself drifting back to sleep.

When next her eyes opened, it was much later, for the room was in complete darkness except for the glow of the fire in the grate and she was alone. She lay a moment, getting her bearings, and then sat up, hugging her knees. Someone must have laid that fire she realized, for it had not been lit when they went to bed. Then she noticed little Abelard’s scrawny body stretched out before it, bathing in the warmth. He must have crept out from beneath his chair, she thought with a smile.

The door creaked open, and from the size and shape of the shadowy form entering, she deduced it was Armand. As he drew closer, she saw he was carrying a tray bearing two lighted candles and sundry other objects. “How long have you been awake?” he asked, setting it down on the table. Una was gratified to see the first thing he took from the tray was a bowl of water for the little dog, who had rolled to his side at the sound of Armand’s voice and was poised for flight.

Setting it down beside Abelard, he murmured something soothing to the little dog and then took two goblets of wine from the tray. He approached and handed one to Una and then sat down beside her on the bed. “You slept well?” he asked, his eyes flitting over her. He took a hasty gulp of wine.

“Yes, I did, thank you.” He narrowed his eyes at her a moment, as if he knew full well that she had been about to slip and call him Sir Armand again. But he couldn’t possibly know that, she told herself uneasily and raised the blanket to cover her thin shift. She had thought in the candlelight it would not be too immodest, but the direction of Sir Armand’s gaze told her that more of her was on display than she had realized.