Page 65 of Holly & Folly

Their gazes held, and that same force that had drawn her to him in the conservatory pulled at her.

Footsteps sounded, and Lord Dalmeer’s valet appeared around the corner. His pace slackened momentarily at the sight of the two of them.

“Raine,” Lord Dalmeer said. “Miss Prescott’s bedchamber is locked. Would you see that her maid is alerted and a key brought?”

“Very good, my lord.” The valet bowed, then returned the way he had come.

It was quiet even after he had disappeared.

“Thank you,” Nell said. “You need not wait until Shaw comes. You have done enough.”

Something almost like hurt passed over his expression. “I shall leave you, then.”

“I only meant,” Nell hurried to say, “that you should not feel obligated to remain here with me. No doubt you are tired.”

He looked at her, and his mouth lifted at the edge. “What a poor creature you think me. Perhaps I have a touch of the headache.”

A soft laugh escaped her. “No one who knows you would credit it.”

“Ah, but no one present knows me as you do.”

Nell gave a laugh, feeling suddenly breathless. “You cannot mean that. Your mother. Lord Weymouth. Your uncle.”

“Certainly, Freddie would be surprised if I pleaded the headache.”

Nell did not respond, for he had not countered her. But they had known each other such a short time that he could not have been serious.

And yet, she felt it too.

Shaw came around the corner, holding her skirts. “Forgive me, miss! I locked the door earlier and it slipped my mind entirely.”

“Do you always lock it?” Nell asked curiously.

“No.” She put a key in the door. “I heard from one of the maids that a man had entered one of the young ladies’ rooms.”

Nell’s face blanched, and her eyes darted to the earl.

The uneasiness in his own eyes made it clear he too was thinking of his visit the other morning.

“The man left a note for her, it seems,” Shaw said, pulling the key from the lock and opening the door.

Nell let out a breath of relief and looked at the earl. “Millie has a secret admirer.”

His eyes lit with understanding and relief.

Nell offered a smile. “Good night, my lord.”

“Good night, Miss Prescott.”

Nell suppressed a sigh as she followed Shaw into the room, wishing things were different. Wishing he would call her Nell again.

Twenty

ARCHIE

The December sun rose late and slept early, but the days had never felt quite so long to Archie. He was tempted more than once to plead the headache.

Mother had planned a candlelit dinner to celebrate the final day of the year. The grand chandelier had been left unlit, but individual candles spanned the long dining table. It was an intriguing scene, if not terribly conducive to seeing well.