Page 44 of It's a British Christmas

“Isn’t that a three-volume work?”

“Yes, it is. Are you familiar with Mrs. Griffith’s writings?”

“Somewhat. I saw one of her plays in Covent Garden, The School for Rakes. It was very popular, and played to sold-out crowds every night.”

He was more impressed with Miss Allen each time they spoke. She might be a small village rector’s daughter, but he suspected there was much more to her than what the world saw. He hoped to get to know her better once he was not in so much pain and recovering from a gunshot wound. To what end, he had no idea, just that he wanted to know more about Miss Eve Allen.

Four days passed with Adam getting stronger each day. After the first night, he had no reoccurrence of the fever, and experienced no infection, which Mrs. Allen assured him was quite exceptional.

“You are looking better today, my lord.” Miss Allen opened the door to his tiny bedroom after knocking softly and being given leave to enter. “Mama says she has never seen a man recover so quickly from such an injury.”

“Ah, and I told her it was your superior nursing skills.”

Miss Allen blushed, again charming him. He’d seen pretend blushes and coy glances over a fan, but never an actual, genuine blush from a young lady. Every minute he spent with her revealed more of her persona. Refreshing and honest.

“I am anxious to get out of this bed. I am not one to linger about, but prefer activity.” Adam winced when he moved too quickly, and the pain reminded him he was still a bit of an invalid.

Miss Allen’s eyes grew wide and she moved forward. “No, my lord! You must not get out of bed just yet. Mama would be most upset.”

She tapped her lips with her finger and studied him for a moment. “I have an hour before I need to help Mama bake bread for this Sunday’s church supper. Do you happen to like chess?”

He perked right up at the idea of having something of interest to pass the time. “Indeed, I do. In fact, I am quite a good player. Do you play?”

She grinned. “Indeed, I do. And I, also, am quite a good player.” She tilted her head, her hazel eyes sparkling with humor. “Care to challenge me, my lord?”

Eve hurried from the bedroom to retrieve the worn chess set she and Papa had played with for years. He’d taught all his children to play the game, insisting it was a good way to learn how to think, and plan ahead. All four of the Allen siblings were adept at chess, and they’d spent many a night studying the chess board and cheering when one would beat the other.

Now that her sister and two brothers were all married, and dealing with their own families far from home, it was only her and Papa playing, and he didn’t always have time. She’d oftentimes played against herself which she never told anyone, feeling quite foolish and wondering how she should declare a win, when she was both sides.

But now she had a chess partner! Hopefully his lordship was, indeed, a good player, because she did not want to tromp all over him, and batter his pride.

She gathered the board and pieces and returned to the bedroom. Mama had sewn a patch over his shirt, so even though he sat up, leaning against the wall behind the bed, he was covered up. Otherwise, Papa would not have allowed her in the room. She’d never told either one of them of the night she’d wiped him down, and enjoyed watching his muscles quiver under her ministrations.

She still flushed at the memory.

“Here we are, my lord.”

“May I ask a favor before we start?” He gave her a slight grin which, for some reason, made her insides flutter.

Oh, no. Please don’t use your charm on me. I want a chess partner, that is all.

“Of course.” She had a hard time getting the words out, with a suddenly dry mouth.

“I would prefer if you did not address me as ‘my lord’. It makes me feel rather lofty, and a bit uncomfortable. Here I am, sitting with a patched shirt and feeling rather helpless. I am anything but lofty.”

Ha. He was lofty, all right. No matter if the man was on his knees bleeding in the mud, or sitting on a tiny cot with a patched shirt, he exuded power and wealth.

“I do not want to make you uncomfortable.” Embarrassed at not completely understanding how one treated nobility since she’d had no experience in that area, she blushed to the roots of her hair.

He extended his arm. “Come here, please.”

She took a deep breath and moved closer. Truth be known, it unnerved her standing this close to him. When he was thrashing about from a fever and the room was dark, it had been hard enough, but now that he looked almost healthy, studying her with those deep brown eyes, she almost felt as though her knees were melting out from under her. She had better get herself under control.

“I want us to be friends. I owe you and your parents a great deal for rescuing me, and treating my wound. While I am here, I am not Lord Manchester, but simply a man. Can I convince you to call me Adam? I would very much like to call you Eve, since I doubt you would allow me to call you ‘angel’, which is how I will always think of you.”

Adam and Eve? No wonder he’d mumbled that before.

She replayed his words in her mind. Which is how I will always think of you.