Jayne Krentz - Late For The Wedding

Halfway up the stairs she decided that she did not like Aspasia Gray.

He missed his footing again on one of the high, cramped steps and likely would have fallen if the maid had not held his arm with such a firm grasp. The close call sent a small tingle of dread through him. It was a long way down to the bottom of the narrow staircase.

“Steady as ye go, m’lord,” the maid said bracingly. “We don’t want ye to have an accident before we get there, do we? Come along now.”

“What d’ya expect? It’s bloody damned dark in here.” Perhaps he should have refused those last two glasses of brandy she had pressed on him before they left the bed chamber. His head was spinning and he was starting to worry about his stomach. “Ought to have used the main staircase.”

“I told ye, sir, the master doesn’t like staff to entertain guests alone in their bed chambers.”

“Beaumont always was a bit prim and proper when it came to that sort of thing.”

She was a strong wench, he thought; stronger than she looked. She was able to hold the candle in one hand and maintain her grip on his elbow with the other. But, then, good maids were required to be sturdy, he reminded himself. They not only had to be able to hoist heavily laden breakfast trays, full chamber pots, and huge stacks of linens all day long, they routinely carried their burdens up and down long flights of steep stairs like this one. In addition to the exercise, there was all that sweeping and scrubbing and washing.

Bound to build stamina in a wench. But he liked em that way. That was the reason he preferred to take his evening sport with one of the hardworking girls in a household rather than with the professional whores in the brothels. The latter were inclined to be weak and listless from an excess of gin and the milk of the poppy.

He told himself that the long climb would prove worthwhile when they reached their goal. Doggedly, he plodded up another few steps.

“How much farther?” he muttered. His heart was beating so strongly he wondered that she did not hear it.

“We’re almost there.”

The step in front of him seemed to waver in the flaring candlelight. He had to work hard to set his foot down on it, and even at that, he nearly missed.

The maid tightened her grip on his arm and urged him upward.

“Come along now.”

When he reached the top of the cramped stairs, he was wheezing.

The maid halted in front of a door. He was grateful for the pause, because he could no longer conceal his ragged breathing. He was sweating profusely too. Should have left my coat and neckcloth in my bed chamber. Ah, well, I’ll have them off soon enough.

“Are you feeling all right, sir? You look a trifle feverish. Mayhap you had a bit too much to drink tonight, hmm? I trust you’ll be able to last long enough to give me a nice romp before you fall asleep. I’d hate to think we climbed all this way for naught.”

There was something different about her now, he thought. Her speech no longer suited her station. It had taken on a more cultured, educated tone. She did not sound like a servant.

He wanted to ask her a question, but his tongue was thick in his mouth and no longer functioned properly. The dizziness was getting worse.

For some reason the sight of the night sky sent a jolt of terror through him.

“Don’t worry, m’lord, brandy has this effect when you put a drop or two of laudanum in it.”

“What’s this about laudanum?”

“Never mind, I know just what you need to restore your senses.” The maid opened the door. “Some fresh night air.”

“No.” He shook his head when she tugged him through the opening. “I’m not feeling well. I think I’d better go back to my bed chamber.”

“Nonsense, m’lord. You need the exercise. I hear you’re engaged to marry a young lady in a few months. She’s young and healthy and she’ll expect a lusty husband on her wedding night.”

He peered blearily at her. “How… how did you know that I’m engaged?”

“Gossip gets around, m’lord.”

The balmy night air did nothing to clear his head. The full moon began to move in a circle overhead. He closed his eyes, but that only made the spinning sensation worse.

“Almost time for you to have your little accident, m’lord,” the maid said cheerfully.

Sudden panic shot through him. He managed to get his eyes partway open. “My wh-wh-what?”

“Rest assured that there is nothing personal about this. Just a matter of business.”

As exit lines went, the one she had just used to bid Tobias good night had not been particularly clever or original, Lavinia thought. While it had no doubt made her point, she was already regretting it by the time she reached her bed chamber a short time later.

This floor of Beaumont Castle had clearly been reserved for the less important guests such as herself, as well as a sprinkling of companions, valets, and ladies’ maids. One extremely fashionable guest, Lady Oakes, had brought along her own personal hairdresser, who had been provided with a room halfway down the hall.

Lavinia let herself into the cramped little bed chamber and lit the candle on the dressing table. The light flickered in the cracked looking glass, casting a weak glow across the sparse furnishings.

She strongly suspected that this room had once been occupied by a maid or a very poor relation. The narrow bed took up most of the available space. There was a small wardrobe against one wall. The basin and pitcher on the washstand were badly chipped.

She went to the window and opened it. It was cool for a night in late June, but not cold. She would survive very well without a fireplace for warmth. Moonlight flooded the gardens and grounds below. The deep silence of the countryside was a stark contrast to the familiar clatter and din of London’s nighttime streets. All this resounding quiet would no doubt make it difficult to get to sleep.

Lavinia folded her arms on the ledge and brooded on the tranquil scene. There was no getting around the fact that she had not handled things well in Tobias’s bedchamber. What on earth had she been thinking when she had as much as told him not to come to her room tonight? Indeed, she’d had every right to lose her temper, but the unfortunate result was that she would not be able to discover what was going on between those two until breakfast. She was quite certain that her curiosity could not be contained that long.

She drummed her fingers on the stone and considered how to proceed.

There was no help for it. She would have to make the trek back downstairs to Tobias’s bed chamber. He owed her some answers, and she knew she would not be able to rest if she did not get them tonight. Furthermore, she did not at all care for the notion of Tobias spending a great deal of time down there alone with Aspasia Gray.

She tried to decide how long to wait before she returned to his room. Twenty minutes? She could only hope that she would not collide with any of the people she had managed to avoid on the first trip.

So much for the delightful diversions of a house party. She’d had her doubts from the start, but Joan Dove had assured her that she would enjoy herself immensely. Yes, there are some boring games and conversations and you will have to put up with some obnoxious people, but, trust me, you will find it all worthwhile. The thing about a country-house party, Lavinia, is that no one cares what you do or where you go after the lights are turned down for the night.

Obviously Joan had not anticipated a complication like Aspasia Gray.

A sudden thought sent a prickle of dread down Lavinia’s spine. What would she do if she discovered that the woman was still in Tobias’s bed chamber when she returned?

She was not jealous, she assured herself. She was deeply concerned. Tobias had been in exceptionally good spirits earlier this evening. Whatever had transpired between him and his new client was serious enough to plunge him into that ice-cold mood that she had learned never boded well. It was not the fact that he appeared quite menacing at such times that worried her. After all, he was no threat to her, only to those whose intentions were villainous. Rather, it was that he was inclined to take risks when he was in that frame of mind.

A soft knock startled her out of her reverie. She swung around, hurried back across the room, and yanked open the door. Tobias stood in the shadows of the dimly lit hall, looking even more dangerous than he had a short time earlier. He had not bothered to put on his coat or neckcloth. He had not even refastened the collar of his white shirt. She could see some of the dark, curling hair that covered his broad chest.

“Well, this is a surprise, sir.”

He glanced down the corridor, apparently assuring himself that there was no one around, and then he stalked into the tiny room.

“Do me a favor,” he muttered, shutting the door behind himself. “In the future, if I ever again suggest that we accept an invitation to a country-house party, kindly tell me to go stand out in the rain until the fit passes.”

“How odd that you should say that. I was having similar thoughts.” She went back to her post by the window. “Who is she, Tobias?”

“I told you who she is,” he said quietly. “Her name is Aspasia Gray. An old acquaintance.”

“I collect that the two of you were once quite close.”

“I said acquaintance, not lover.” He came to stand behind her. “Bloody hell. Surely you don’t think there was anything of significance in the fact that she had her arms around my neck when you walked into my bed chamber, do you?”