Devil in Spring (The Ravenels #3)(56)

“I’m lying in bed in a dark room,” she said grumpily, “with my head on a pillow and my eyes closed. People tend to do this when they’re sleeping.”

“By this time every morning, you’re usually jumping about and chirping like a cricket in a hen yard.”

Pandora rolled to face away from her. “I didn’t sleep well last night.”

“The rest of the household is awake. You’re going to miss breakfast unless I can manage to make you presentable in the next half hour.”

“I don’t care. Tell whoever wants to know that I’m resting.”

“What about the housemaids? They’ll want to come in and clean.”

“The room is already tidy.”

“It most certainly is not. The carpet must be swept, and . . . why is your wrapper draped at the foot of the bed instead of hanging in the wardrobe?”

Pandora burrowed more deeply beneath the covers, turning pink all over. She remembered Gabriel carrying her to her room last night and laying her on the bed. It had been so dark that she could hardly make out anything, but Gabriel had exceptional night vision.

“Arms in or out?” he’d asked, straightening the covers efficiently.

“Out.” Pandora had been nonplussed and amused. “I didn’t know one of your bedroom skills was tucking people in.”

“Only very small people until now. Justin routinely gives me low marks for leaving the covers too loose.” Gabriel’s weight had depressed the mattress as he’d braced a hand and bent over her. As his lips had touched her forehead, Pandora had circled her arms around his neck and sought his mouth. He’d resisted briefly, his soft laugh rushing against her cheek. “You’ve had enough kissing for one night.”

“One more,” she had insisted.

He had obliged her, and she had no idea how long he’d stayed there with his lips playing against hers, while she’d responded with deep-dreaming intensity. Eventually he’d left her, vanishing into the darkness like a cat.

Pandora was wrenched away from the pleasurable memory as she heard the clang of the tin slipper-box lid.

“There’s only one slipper,” she heard Ida say suspiciously. “Where’s the other?”

“I don’t know.”

“Why were you out of bed?”

“I was looking for a book, since I couldn’t sleep,” Pandora replied irritably, filled with worry. What if Gabriel hadn’t remembered to retrieve the other slipper from the hallway? And what about the fallen candle? If one of the servants had found the items . . .

“It must be here somewhere,” Ida fretted, crouching to look under the bed. “How do you lose things so easily? Gloves, handkerchiefs, pins—”

“Your talking is waking up my brain,” Pandora said. “I would have thought you’d be pleased for me to stay unconscious longer than usual.”

“I would,” Ida retorted, “but I have other things to do besides wait on you all morning, Lady Slugabed.” Standing with a huff, she left the room, and closed the door behind her.

Fluffing up her pillow, Pandora dove her head into it. “I’m going to hire a nice lady’s maid someday,” she grumbled. “One who doesn’t call me names and lecture me at dawn.” She turned to her back and then to her other side, trying to find a comfortable position. It was no use. She was awake, and that was that.

Would it be worth the effort to ring for Ida and try to dress in time for breakfast? No, she didn’t feel at all like hurrying. In fact, she didn’t know what she felt like. A strange mixture of emotions whisked around inside her . . . nervousness, excitement, melancholy, yearning, fear. Tomorrow was her last full day at Heron’s Point. She dreaded having to leave. She especially dreaded the things that would have to be said.

Someone tapped quietly on the door. Pandora’s heart lurched as she wondered if it might be Gabriel trying to return the missing slipper. “Yes?” she called out in a hushed voice.

Kathleen came into the room, her red hair glowing even in the dimness. “I’m sorry to disturb you, dear,” she said gently, coming to the bedside, “but I wanted to ask how you were feeling. Are you ill?”

“No, but my brain is tired.” Pandora inched closer to the edge of the mattress as she felt Kathleen’s cool, small hand smoothing back her hair and resting briefly on her forehead. From the moment Kathleen had come to the estate, she had been the closest thing to a mother Pandora had ever known, despite the fact that she was still a young woman herself.

“You have a great deal to think about,” Kathleen murmured, her face soft with sympathy.

“Whatever I decide is going to feel like a mistake.” Pandora’s throat cinched tight. “I wish Lord St. Vincent were a warty old windbag. Then everything would be easy. Instead, he’s odiously attractive and charming. It’s like he’s deliberately trying to make my life as difficult as possible. This is why I’ve never understood why people think the devil is a hideous beast with horns and claws and a forked tail. No one would be tempted by that.”

“You’re saying Lord St. Vincent is the devil in disguise?” Kathleen asked, sounding vaguely amused.

“He may as well be,” Pandora said morosely. “He’s made everything confusing. I’m like a goldfinch, thinking ‘Oh, that little cage looks so awfully nice with its gold bars and cozy velvet perch and that dish of millet-seed—it might be worth having my wings clipped for that.’ And then when the door latches shut, it will be too late.”