A Convenient Gentleman. Victoria Aldridge
at the designated time, Miss Morgan,’ he said mildly enough.
She busied herself tidying up his soup dish and plate. ‘The wedding is tomorrow, at one o’clock. We have some guests staying at the hotel, but there is a room ready for you, and I would suggest that you use it. Just for tonight, mind.’
‘How very kind of you.’
She glared at him. His deferential manner was far more aggravating than any open hostility could have been. ‘I’m not being kind. I’m merely protecting my investment. It will be no end of bother if you get too drunk tonight to remember anything and I have to find someone else to marry tomorrow afternoon!’
He gave a slight bow. ‘Then I commend you on your sound business sense, Miss Morgan. You have my admiration, if not my gratitude.’
Caro lit a lamp with swift, jerky movements, too furious to be careful with the tinderbox and consequently burning a finger in the process. She almost wished that she had taken heed of Mr Matthews’s warning now, and chosen someone else to marry. Someone who would be grateful for ten pounds—ten pounds, mind!—and didn’t act as if he were the one bestowing the favour on her. Who on earth did this man think he was, after all? She slid a quick look from under her lashes at him standing by the warm stove. Scruffy, unkempt individual that he was… She found herself wondering what he would look like after a haircut.
She filled a jug with hot water and handed it to him. Then she led him up to his room in silence, the lamp throwing long shadows on the wall as they mounted the stairs. The room she showed him to was the smallest one they had, although perfectly comfortable and she had aired it only hours earlier. She put the lamp on the dressing table and moved over to draw the curtains. It was snowing lightly again, and she thought momentarily about lighting a fire. But the room was small enough to be snug, and there were two eider-downs on the bed. Besides, she told herself firmly, he was probably used to being cold.
‘Would you like me to light a fire?’ she heard herself offer.
‘Thank you, no. I’ll be very comfortable.’ He poured the steaming water into the wash basin. He doesn’t have a nightshirt, Caro thought absently, watching him. He’ll take off his clothes and wash, and I haven’t given him anything to wear in bed…
Good Lord! What was she bothering about that for? She nodded abruptly and moved past him, to the safety of the hallway.
‘I’ll bid you goodnight, then, Mr Gray.’
‘Goodnight, Miss Morgan.’
It was past midnight when her other guests arrived, rather jolly from a little too much ale and the boisterous walk back through the snow. Stifling her yawns, Caro lit them each a lamp and saw them to their rooms. By the time she crawled into her own bed she was exhausted.
As her eyes closed she thought of Leander Gray down the hallway. He might be cold in his bed, but at least she had ensured that he would be sober and marriageable for their wedding later that day. Just for a moment she wondered if she might not be making a major mistake… But it had been a long day and any doubts disappeared as sleep overwhelmed her.
The faint sound of agonised coughing awoke her at dawn. She’d forgotten all about Aunt Charlotte! Pulling her shawl around her shoulders Caro ran down the hallway to her aunt’s room, almost tripping over her nightgown in her haste.
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