Page 45 of A Much Maligned Miss

“Yes,” he agreed. “It’s another effort not to shock you. Let me know if it’s unnecessary.”

“Oh no,” she answered truthfully. “I love it. It’s so much nicer than mine.” She glanced down ruefully, then realized she was not even wearing hers. “Oh, should I put mine on? I am not familiar with the etiquette involved in such matters.”

A smile finally curved his lips and he climbed into the bed beside her. “I think we can dispense with your wrapper,” he said, turning onto his side toward her and favoring her with a scrutinizing look. “Your nightgown covers you entirely from neck to toe.”

“Yes,” she agreed. “Sorry it’s nothing much to look at. The priority was always practicality rather than beauty when it came to my clothes. My wrapper is even worse. It is of a sensible brown boiled wool.”

He grimaced. “It sounds hideous. I beg you will dispose of it whilst you are under my protection.”

“But then, what am I to wear first thing in the morning and last thing at night?”

“I will buy you a new one. I will have to buy you a new wardrobe in any case.” Caroline turned her head to look at him. “What? Does that offend you?” he asked with a challenging lift of his brows.

“No, it would be silly to be offended by such a thing now I have agreed to be, well, your mistress,” she said in a rush, to hide the fact she was a little flustered. “It’s just that I think your idea of having no money must differ wildly from my own.”

He nodded slowly. “It probably does,” he conceded, rolling onto his back and reaching up his hands to put them behind his head. “After all, I could hardly keep so many dependents if I was stony broke, now, could I?”

“Dependents?” She turned her head sharply. Does he have others?

“You, the twins…” he continued and she relaxed. “I am becoming entirely domesticated in my old age. Not having second thoughts, are you?” he asked, his eyes trained on Romulus, who was now walking in a small circle at the foot of the bed, until he finally plopped down and started washing his paws. “It’s not too late to tell me, if so.”

“No,” she answered, surprised by the sudden question. “I’m not. Are you?” He was silent for a long moment and Caroline’s heart quailed. Oh God, it was likely the nightgown that was to blame. It resembled nothing so much as a tent! Should she have climbed into the bed as naked as the Queen of Sheba?

“No,” he answered at last, breathing out. “And it is just as well, for your reputation must surely lie in tatters by now after four days of traveling alone with me.”

“Yes,” she replied. “It must be as ragged as Mama’s best silk shawl. And it’s not even as though this is the first time we have shared a bed, is it?”

Their eyes met and she found she could not look away. “That time you were barely aware of your surroundings,” he reminded her dryly. “And did not feature in the decision-making one bit. You were hardly culpable on that occasion.”

“No, I suppose not,” she admitted before brightening. “I am fully capable now though.”

He paused his hand in the act of reaching for his cigarette case. Apparently, he even brought it to bed with him. “You twist my meaning, Miss Halperston and put me quite to the blush,” he said flippantly. “Do you mind if I smoke?”

Smoke? In bed? Caroline felt quite astonished by such a notion. She was sure Edgar would never dare the risk of singeing his sheets in such a fashion. “No, not at all,” she answered, hastily covering both her sudden surprise and…what? Disappointment?

She felt quite jittery with nerves to be lying so wickedly in bed with Lord Atherton, and here he was blowing out plumes of smoke with his arm twisted behind his head, not making the slightest attempt to divest her of her virtue!

“Are you always this chatty at bedtime?” he asked casually, contemplating the smoking end of his cigarette.

Caroline eyed him uneasily. Was he annoyed with her? Surely, he could not be bored of her already? Her heart skipped a beat. She had done nothing to earn four thousand pounds yet! No, it must be the fault of her dreadful nightgown which had put him off. Realizing he was waiting for her answer, she scrambled to make reply. “No. But then I don’t usually have anyone to chat with.”

“Not even at boarding school?”

“Oh yes, then I did. I roomed with Diana Hipworth. We used to whisper girlish confidences into the early hours.”

He grimaced. “Well, I hope you won’t attempt that with me.”

“Certainly not! Well, unless it was a fair exchange,” she conceded, “and you wish to tell me your boyish confidences.”

“I do not think you would care for them somehow.”

She eyed him sidelong. He was definitely acting colder toward her; she was not imagining it.

They lay quietly for a moment, then he asked, almost begrudgingly, “What sort of confidences did you tell Miss Hipworth? I find myself strangely curious.”

She turned evasive. “Oh, things, you know,” she said vaguely. “Things that seemed important at the time.”

“I wonder you did not tell her about your home life. Your mama’s persecution, I mean.”