“My father used to say, ‘Worry gives a small thing a big shadow.’ It was a saying he picked up on one of his travels.”
Robert nodded thoughtfully. “Your father was a wise man, for someone of such a common background.”
More than the words he said, it was the way he said them I found offensive. “I have rarely found wisdom and rank to be much associated. Take the Prince Regent, for example.”
He held his hands out, palms up. “I am sorry. I didn’t mean anything by it, Juliet.”
There was no malice on Robert’s face. It must have been the pain of my burn causing my irritability. “No, it is I who am sorry. I didn’t sleep well last night, and my tiredness has caught up to me. Perhaps I’ll say good night.”
“If it assures me of more of your company tomorrow, by all means. Shall we go for another walk since you cannot ride? At nine?”
“Let’s say ten, in case I oversleep. Right now I feel like I could sleep for a week straight.”
Robert helped me up and escorted me to the doors of the drawing room. Several people turned in our direction, but Robert didn’t seem to notice. He stayed by my side and walked me out into the corridor. “I hope you sleep well, Juliet.” There was real sincerity in his voice. He made no move to go.
“Thank you, Robert.” I reached up and pressed a kiss to his cheek, trying to determine whether his nearness had any effect on me at all. I felt nothing but tired, but I supposed that was to be expected, given my state of exhaustion.
He smiled, however, pleased by my token of affection and didn’t seem to notice how quickly I turned to go. I hurried up the stairs, anxious to take a dose of the laudanum and lose myself to sleep.
Chapter Twenty
I awoke to rays of sunlight streaming through my windows. Betsy must have forgotten I had asked her not to come in and open the drapes this morning. I groaned and tried to pull the covers up over my head, but one slight movement made my hand sting and sent a wave of shudders all the way to my core. I gingerly flexed my hand and flinched at the stretching of the tiny layer of skin newly formed over my blisters. Though my palm was bounds better than yesterday, it was far from healed.
And now I was fully awake, so there was little point in staying abed. I swung my legs over the side and walked over to the vanity. The mirror painted a rather dreary image of my appearance. Despite having retired early, my skin was pallid and my prior restless nights had christened my eyes with deep shadows. Fortunately Betsy had left a fresh bowl of water out for me. With my left hand I splashed my face with the ice-cold water.
“Ah, you’re finally up,” Betsy said, pushing open the door.
I picked up the fresh towel and rubbed my face dry. “Yes. You made sure of that by opening the curtains.” Though the laudanum had proven effective in helping me sleep, it had done little to improve my mood. “Is breakfast over?”
“Put away over half an hour ago.” She went to the wardrobe to rummage through my dresses.
My stomach let out a low growl, as if to taunt me. Could she not at least have brought a tray?
“But I’ve been tasked with giving you a message.” It was the singsong quality of her voice that caught my attention. And a subtle smirk, as if she had some sort of secret. “The Duke of Halstead asked me to tell you he’d have a tray sent to the music room this morning.”
I forced a disinterested look, but my stomach leapt at her words. “Which music room? You know the ridiculous proportions of this castle. There are at least three, by my count.”
And then a full-on smile appeared. “He said to tell you it’s the one that brings out your Scottish brogue.” A scorching blush rose to my cheeks, but Betsy was too preoccupied with my stays to notice. “I wasn’t sure as to his meaning, but I must admit, I lost my tongue a little, what with a duke speaking to me.”
If only he had the same effect on me. I licked my dry lips.
“What will my mother say when I tell her the Duke of Halstead spoke to me?” Betsy chattered on, content to answer her own questions.
For the first time yesterday, Halstead had opened up and shared something of himself with me. But after my brazen question he’d quickly withdrawn, and he certainly hadn’t made any attempt to reconcile yesterday evening. Was the breakfast offering his attempt at an olive branch?
Once Betsy had finished with me, I made my way downstairs to the music room where I’d given Halstead a thorough tongue-lashing. It seemed so long ago now; I never would have guessed the man who had so thoroughly mocked me that day would come to hold such power over me. I could almost believe that were it not for him, I might have already accepted Robert’s hand.
I brushed back an errant strand of hair and turned the door handle. The door squeaked as it had before, only this time the room wasn’t empty.
Halstead sat in an overstuffed chair near the pianoforte, his walking stick resting across his lap. How was it that his mere presence could unnerve me? I suppressed the urge to fiddle with the lace on my collar.
He got to his feet as I walked in, his knee bumping the silver tray that had been laid out on the table next to him. The china clinked before settling. Quiet encompassed the room. “I trust you slept well?”
I could not help myself. “A wee tay weel. Ah nearly slept th’ morn awee,” I said in my best Scottish brogue.
He laughed, a full,
