Page 55 of Holly & Folly

Nell’s eyes flew open, and she found Mr. Fowell at her side.

He smiled. “You have been standing here but have not poured yourself tea.” He peered into her cup, and his brow furrowed.

“I came for sugar.” Nell took the tongs and placed an enormous clump into her half-full cup as Mr. Fowell began pouring his own.

She gave him a polite nod, then turned, unable to keep her eyes from seeking Lord Dalmeer, who was still in conversation with Miss Orston. Still smiling.

“I thought I would find you and Lord Dalmeer enjoying one another’s company,” Mr. Fowell said, coming up beside her again. “Or perhaps you already enjoyed enough of one another in the conservatory.”

Blood and white-hot heat rushed into Nell’s face.

Mr. Fowell smiled knowingly. “You needn’t blush, Miss Prescott. Indeed, I congratulate you. Your timing, in particular, is admirable. Had you waited until this evening, you might have lost him.” His eyes flicked to Miss Orston. “I think, however, that you can safely rely upon the earl to do his duty to you. Allow me to be the first to felicitate you for securing such a match. I wish you a pleasant evening.”

Nell could not formulate a response before he had walked away.

Feeling more ill than she had since the night at the inn, she set down her trembling teacup and left the drawing room to take refuge in her bedchamber.

Sixteen

ARCHIE

She was gone.

Miss Prescott was nowhere to be found in the drawing room, though Archie had seen her at the tea table not two minutes ago, and before that, beside Miss Hollis. He felt ever-aware of her presence, which was why he could not understand how she had left without his notice.

He considered going to her bedchamber directly but stopped himself. They had been seen kissing in the conservatory; the last thing she needed was for someone to witness him knocking on her door at night.

Neither Miss Hollis nor Mr. Prescott seemed put out by her absence, which, he hoped, meant that it was not a matter for concern.

Either way, he would be obliged to wait until tomorrow to speak with her.

And yet, when he returned to his bedchamber, he stood with his hand on the doorknob for nearly a minute, looking toward Miss Prescott’s room and debating whether to take his chances. He was desperate to see her—to know her mind and to tell her his.

But he could not risk her reputation twice in one day.

He would not.

Not in all his life had Archie been the first to breakfast, but he strode into an empty breakfast room the next morning to a poignant sensation of disappointment.

Not because there was no one there—because she was not there.

The room was strangely bright for the time of day, a result of the mass of snow that had fallen over the course of the night. If Mother’s plans had involved anything outdoors, they would have to be changed. No one would be leaving Bellthorne unless they dared jump from a first-story window.

The sideboard was full of food—toast, eggs, veal, mutton, muffins, rolls, and Bath buns—and Archie heaped food upon his plate, intent to make the meal last until Miss Prescott arrived.

When footsteps sounded as he was buttering a piece of toast, he turned to see who it was, his pulse thrumming.

“Good morning, my lord,” Mr. Fowell said with a smile. “What a pleasant surprise.”

The corner of Archie’s mouth lifted. “Is it? I had no notion you were so fond of me, Fowell.”

The man laughed softly and took an empty plate. “Everyone is, I think.”

“I am blushing.” Archie chose a boiled egg.

“Miss Prescott fondest of all, perhaps.”

It took everything in Archie’s power not to stiffen. “Her regard is returned.”