The Duke's Alliance: A Soldier's Bride(61)

'Devil take it! Aubrey, Beau, stop kicking me and let me unravel myself.'

'What the hell are you doing in here? We thought you were a burglar.'

'I went for a ride and got locked out. That doesn't explain why you two are here – how in God's name did anyone know where I was?'

Beau rolled to one side away from the melee of arms and legs and, by the faint glimmer of the lantern left on the floor outside, he could just make out Perry who appeared to be wrapped in a shroud. Aubrey scrambled to his feet and heaved his twin upright.

'It's perishing in here. Here, take my coat, your hands are like blocks of ice.'

'No, you keep it, I shall be fully recovered once I get somewhere warmer.'

'I doubt that anywhere is particularly convivial in the middle of the night, Perry, but Peebles can rout out some help and get the fires burning in your apartment. Until then, I have no idea where we will be most comfortable.'

*

The three of them met the butler who was holding the greatcoat and other items he had abandoned earlier. They were too cold to be of much use to him. 'I shall be better in my bed. No need to disturb anyone. I am quite capable of making up my own fire. Good night and I apologise for disturbing your rest.'

Perry marched briskly up and down his sitting room to get his blood flowing freely and once he was sufficiently warm he stripped off his garments and put on his nightshirt and robe. Peebles had insisted on making up both fires and then arrived half an hour later with a tray of coffee and cake.

He drank the coffee and devoured the cake before thinking about retiring. Tomorrow he would go next door and insist on speaking to his wife. He was concerned that she might have been upset at seeing what she supposed to be a burglar climbing into the house. Then he smiled. Such a thing would be of no moment to her, she was not like any other young lady and he was glad of it.

There seemed little point in going to bed as it would be dawn soon and he intended to present himself at his brother's door before breakfast. He spent an inordinate time on his appearance and chose an elaborate knot for his neckcloth. His waistcoat was blue silk, as were the lining and collar of his coat.

Satisfied he was smart enough to plead his case he sat at his escritoire, trimmed a pen and uncorked the ink. Writing down what he wanted to say to Sofia would make it easier when the time came. There might be only the one opportunity to try and persuade her to give him another chance, and he had no wish to make a sad mull of it.

After an hour the paper was still pristine. He had come up with nothing new to support his case. He could only apologise and pray she would forgive him. There was no excuse for his foolishness, unless being insanely jealous was an acceptable reason.

The clock had remained stubbornly on six o'clock and refused to move. He could wait no longer. He was going to rouse the household next door and demand to speak to his wife.





Chapter Twenty-One


Sofia was woken by the startled squeal of the kitchen maid who had arrived to begin the preparations for the day. Who was the more surprised by the encounter she could not surmise. Sofia realised she had fallen asleep in the comfortable chair and spent the night in the kitchen.

'I am so sorry that I startled you. I came down for something to eat and, as you can see, I fell asleep. I shall get out of your way immediately.'

The girl curtsied. 'Never you mind, my lady, nice and warm it is in here. Shall I make you a lovely jug of chocolate and bring it up for you? I ain't supposed to go above stairs, but I don't reckon Cook will mind this once seeing as it's you.'

'That would be wonderful. I shall make sure you are not reprimanded for helping me.' Sofia was about to leave when somebody hammered on the kitchen door. She froze – memories of the burglar flooded back. Surely such a person would not bang on the door?

The maid recovered first and dashed off to investigate. To her astonishment Perry strode in and for the second time that morning she startled someone by her presence in the kitchen.

'Sweetheart, what in God's name are you doing down here?'

She was about to answer when his expression changed to one of concern and he was beside her in an instant. 'You have your arm in a sling, you are pale. Let me look at your hand.'

She flinched away. 'You must not, it is far too painful to be touched. I should have asked for the doctor to be sent for yesterday.'

Gently he pushed her back into the rocking chair and then carefully removed her injured hand from the sling. She bit back a cry of pain as he folded back the scarf to examine it. His language caused the kitchen maid to gasp.

'You have dislocated tow of your knuckles. They should have been put back in place immediately. It will be far more painful for you doing it now.'

His words had scarcely registered when he took hold of her middle fingers and held the rest of her hand steady. Then there was the searing pain and her world went black for a moment. Her scream filled the chamber.

'I'm sorry to have hurt you so badly, my love, but your hand will be better now things are back in place.'

Slowly she recovered her breath and was able to speak. She had been going to rail at him for his rough treatment but then she realised he was right. Her hand was no longer agony when she moved it. She scarcely dared to look down for fear of what she would see.

'I shall carry you back to your room, sweetheart, and then we can talk.'