The Other Miss Bridgerton (Rokesbys #3)(19)

Miss Bridgerton was still fully clothed when Andrew returned three and a half hours later, but she’d removed the pins from her hair, and it now lay across her shoulder in a sleeping plait. She was sitting upright on his bed, the blankets pulled over her lap. A pillow was wedged between her back and the wall behind her.

His pillow.

Andrew noticed that the curtains were still open, so he crossed the cabin and drew them shut. His cabin was port, and he did not think she would enjoy the blazing eastern sun in the morning. They were not far past the solstice; sunrise was blindingly early this time of year.

“Are you ready for bed?” he asked. The most mundane of questions, and yet he found it remarkable that he had been able to utter it in such a normal tone of voice.

Miss Bridgerton glanced up from the book she was reading. “As you can see.”

“You won’t be too uncomfortable in your dress?” he asked.

She turned slowly to look at him. “I see no alternative.”

Andrew had some experience removing such frocks from women; he knew she had to have some sort of shift underneath it that would be far more comfortable for sleeping.

But far too revealing for either of their comfort.

Not that he had any intention of bedding her. God help him if he even so much as kissed the girl. But she was rather attractive, objectively speaking. Her eyes were a gorgeous shade of green, somewhere between leaf and moss, and she had the Bridgerton hair, thick and lustrous, with the color of warm chestnuts. Her mien would never be placid enough for conventional standards of beauty, but he’d never liked expressionless females. Hell, he’d never liked expressionless males either, and Lord knew he’d met enough of those when he was out in society. Andrew had never understood why it was so fashionable to appear bored.

Disinterested equaled disinteresting.

He considered that. An excellent new catchphrase. He’d use it on his family the next time he went home. They’d likely roll their eyes, but they sort of had to. It was what family did.

God, he missed them. He had eleven nieces and nephews now, and he hadn’t even met the most recent two. Of the five Rokesby siblings, only he and his younger brother, Nicholas, were still unwed. The other three were blissfully happy and reproducing like rabbits.

Not with each other, of course. With their spouses. He winced, even though he alone was privy to his convoluted thoughts. He was so tired. It had been a hell of a day, and it was about to get worse. He had no idea how he expected to get any sleep tonight. Between his spot on the floor and the simple presence of her in the room . . .

She was impossible to ignore. Maybe it would have been better if she’d been frightened and meek. There would have been tears, but at least when she was out of his sight, she’d have been out of his mind.

He walked over to a built-in set of drawers. His nightshirt was there, as were his tooth powder and brush. Billy usually left a small basin of water on the table, but clearly the boy had been too terrified of Miss Bridgerton to enter the room again. He picked up the toothbrush and regarded it, sighing at the lack of necessary liquid.

“I didn’t brush my teeth either.”

He smiled. So she had been watching him. She’d been trying a little too hard to appear absorbed in her book, but he’d been almost certain that she would give up the ruse the moment his back was turned. “We shall both be foul of breath in the morning,” he said.

“A charming prediction.”

He glanced at her over his shoulder. “I don’t plan to kiss anyone. Do you?”

She was too smart to take such obvious bait, so he popped his toothbrush into his mouth and gave himself a powderless cleaning. It was better than nothing.

“I don’t suppose you have an extra on board,” she said. “A toothbrush, I mean.”

“I’m afraid not, but you’re welcome to use your forefinger and some of my powder.”

She sighed but nodded, and he found himself oddly pleased that she was so unfussy. “There will be water in the morning,” he told her. “There is usually some at night, but I believe you have frightened Billy away.”

“He did come to remove the dishes.”

“Well, there is that.” He didn’t tell her that he’d had to grab the boy by his collar and shove him in the right direction. But better Billy than anyone else on the ship. Brown or Green would have been acceptable—Andrew had known both of them long enough to know that they’d not imperil her safety–but he doubted either one of them wanted anything to do with her.

Andrew reached into his drawer for his nightshirt, then stopped. Bloody hell, he was going to have to sleep in his clothing too. He couldn’t undress unless he did so after snuffing out the lanterns, and there was something that felt undignified about wearing his nightshirt while she remained fully clothed.

“Are you ready for sleep?” he asked.

“I’d been hoping to read for a bit longer. I trust you don’t mind that I borrowed a few of your books.”

“Not at all. You’ll go mad without something to occupy your time.”

“How positively liberal of you.”

He rolled his eyes but didn’t bother to rejoin. “The light of one lantern won’t matter. Just make sure you don’t fall asleep with it burning.”

“Of course not.”

He felt the need to reiterate the point. “Aboard a ship there is no greater disaster than fire.”