Bound by Bliss (Bound and Determined #2)(48)

Granted, she had him acting very unlike himself. He’d always been happy to wait for women to come to him, so why was he scenting after her like a hound on the hunt? Where was the emotional control he’d always had before?

Miss Swilp walked out of the retiring room and blushed slightly to be seen exiting the chamber.

“Is Miss Danser in there? Her brother is looking for her,” he said.

Miss Swilp turned her nose up slightly. “If you mean Miss Bliss Danser, I do not believe she is. I have not seen her since early in the evening and in a gown of that color it would be hard to miss.” It was impossible to mistake her negative tone. “I was not aware that Swanston was here this evening. If you would like help finding her I am happy to oblige. We have been friends for years and I am sure I know her favorite places. Have you tried the library? She does like books. Or what of the gardens, perhaps she is hiding in the corner. It can be difficult if no one asks you to dance. I do know that she has not been herself these last days, always looking secretive. It could be that she has a hidden admirer, but it is more likely that she is in the doldrums because your aunt, Lady Perse, has not asked her to tea. It is always hard when those who expect everything don’t get what they want, don’t you agree?” Miss Swilp nodded as if taking his answer for granted and continued. “I would expect we will find her trying to trap a husband. It is high time that she found a spouse, and even though she is a duke’s daughter no one seems to be asking for her. Should we start looking in the cupboards?”



He certainly didn’t know where else to look, but the thought of wandering the house peering into pantries with Miss Swilp on his arm was not a welcome one, though he was enough of a gentleman that he could only respond with utmost politeness. And given the grip the woman had taken on him he doubted he could dislodge her without physical force. It occurred to him that if she considered Bliss old enough that she needed to be trapping a husband she might put herself in the same category. The thought of being trapped into matrimony with Miss Swilp caused him to shudder. He’d barely survived a five-minute conversation with her earlier in the evening. The thought of a lifetime was quite unbearable.

Leading him about like a trained pup, Miss Swilp approached a door under a back stair and prepared to swing it open. He could only close his eyes and hope they were not about to interrupt some tired chambermaid seeking a moment’s peace.

Already he was plotting how to leave Miss Swilp behind. He did not want company when he found Bliss. Perhaps a few kind words now would allow him to depart without a fuss in a few moments. He turned to her, a kind smile upon his face.



—

Bliss leaned back against the pantry wall and wondered how she’d gotten herself into this situation. When Lord Temple had approached her and asked if she’d like to go examine a particularly fine Rembrandt she’d taken him at his word. She’d had many such artistic tours over the years and the greatest risk was always tedium. It was amazing how many Elizabethan ladies looked exactly the same in their high collars and endless rows of long pearls. Her own pearls were probably from that period. God, how she hated the things. Her father was always prattling on about how they were an additional dowry all by themselves. He was right that the hideous things were probably worth the price of a grand estate, but that would only make them valuable if someone wanted to buy them and she’d yet to hear of anyone wanting to trade an estate for four yards of baubles. Objectively they might be beautiful, but every time she saw them she remembered her mother wearing them, her fingers weaving them into patterns and knots. They’d been the perfect plaything for the duchess, a woman unable to stay still for even a moment.

They should have been a fond memory, but every time Bliss wore them she remembered wanting her mother, needing her mother, and being given a necklace of beautiful beads instead. No necklace, not matter how precious, could ever replace what she had lost.

A creak sounded in the hallway outside the pantry, forcing Bliss back to the present moment. It was probably only a footman looking for more candles or a maid seeking more napkins. It couldn’t be Lord Temple. Surely he’d never think to look for her here. She must keep her thoughts in the here and now, no matter how tempting it was to escape by letting them wander to other matters, not that thinking of her mother lying in the casket was exactly escape.



Another creak. Another step. And then whoever it was passed by.

Bliss let out a long, but very quiet, sigh of relief.

Against her will the sensation of Lord Temple’s fingers slipping into her bodice came to her. She’d been wrong. His fingers were not snakes. They were eels. Her breasts still felt as if they’d been tracked in slime. It might be unfair. She knew that the man had been perfectly clean, but she could not escape the sensation.

She’d promised herself she’d give him a chance—and she had. She’d followed him patiently through the upstairs halls of the house and had not even demurred when he’d led her into the dark bedchamber. It was unusual, but not unheard of, for family paintings to be hidden away in back corners. She’d even heard of one man who kept a Titian in the privy chamber because it helped him relax his bowels. It was strange that no candles were burning and that no one else was around. Normally by this point in the evening guests were looking for any chance to wander and escape the crowd. Even looking at the pictures of a lord’s great-great-aunt became a form of entertainment.