Chapter 7
“Wake up, Lady Felmont. Lady Felmont!”
Lizzie’s head felt as if it were stuffed with shimmering peacock feathers. Her frozen mouth slurred the words, “My mother is dead. Dead, two years.”
Cold wetness licked at her eyelids. Lizzie struggled to get away.
A pillow wedged beneath her knees awoke her to the horror of her situation. She had just spent the night with the Beast! Where was he? Had he ravished her while she slept drugged with laudanum? An anguished cry escaped her. She thrust away the weight lying on top of her and opened her eyes in time to see the long bolster roll across the empty bed to rest where the Beast had lain.
“It’s Molly, Lady Felmont.” The maid stopped wiping the wet cloth over Lizzie’s face. “His lordship is in his dressing room, if you’d like to get up now.” Molly tugged the bed curtain from Lizzie’s hand to return the silk swag to its place at the foot of the bed.
Lizzie hated laudanum. Its lingering effects made it impossible for her to flee the bed without aid. Molly helped her throw the bedclothes off. Lizzie sat up. Her spinning head made the room tilt.
She saw Molly glance with interest at the sheets on her side of the bed. They were barely rumpled, a fact which would be duly reported in the servants’ hall. The maid gave a gasp at the condition of the Beast’s side of the bed.
“Lud, that must be from his lordship’s nose. It must have bled again in the night. They’ll think you had a right time of it when they see that in the laundry.” The maid helped her to stand. She wrapped the dressing gown around Lizzie’s shoulders while she eyed the creased nightdress for signs of debauchery.
Lizzie did the same. It did not seem to have been involved in any licentious activity, therefore its wearer must be as innocent of wickedness. Only her gloves had gone astray. They peeped from beneath the Beast’s pillow with their fingers entwined as if pleading for rescue.
“How do you feel, Lady Felmont?” asked Molly.
“Well, thank you,” Lizzie mumbled. She couldn’t feel many parts of her body and could only hope they had survived the night unmolested. “Help me to my bedroom.”
The Beast’s dressing room door opened and that depraved soon-to-be-ravisher-of-a-helpless-maiden appeared. Thankfully, he was clad in somber morning dress, his hair freshly washed and tied back. The thought that he might have strolled out naked with lust written on his horrid male parts, made Lizzie hold onto Mollie’s arm for support.
“Good morning, my dear wife, I trust you slept well?”
In the gray drizzle of light from the window, he stared at her. The peacock feathers in her head twirled and tumbled at the sound of his voice. His scrutiny unnerved her.
Lizzie felt incapable of conversation. Drat! It was day and she must call him by an endearment. “I ... I am ... must....”
“Then I suggest you get on with it, dearest Lizzie, for I am ravenously hungry and might just eat you for breakfast.” He moved no closer and his sudden smile was determinedly innocent, but Lizzie didn’t wait to hear more.
She encouraged her knees to lift her feet. They seemed to have forgotten how and refused to do more than rub her toes gracelessly over the carpet as she stumbled towards the door with Molly’s help.
The Beast called, “Wait, Lizzie.”
Molly obeyed him. Drat the woman!
He moved close to her side of the bed. Her head swiveled like an owl to keep him in sight.
He returned to kneel in front of her, to lift her cold feet with his warm hands, to slide her toes into her slippers. “I shall have to keep you warmer than this, my love, or we shall be found frozen together like Czarina Anna’s clowns in their ice palace.” The Beast rose to steal a kiss from her cheek.
Lizzie heard a strangled sob from Molly. Did the maid covet the kiss? She could have it and all the rest of the Beast.
The Beast took Lizzie’s arm to help her leave his bedroom. She fled with as much dignity as she could muster, while his fingers caressed her elbow.
The maid did not follow.
Lizzie could hear them talking when she locked her dressing room door to bathe in private. The Beast’s low rumble sounded soothing, Molly’s voice muffled. Did he hold her in his arms? The mumble of their conversation was unintelligible until the Beast gave his dismissal. “Off with you Molly, lest my wife decides to mistake you for one of my legion of mistresses.”
Molly’s inaudible retort made him laugh.
The bath held an unusually large amount of water. Lizzie examined her body before she got in. There did not seem to be any marks on her. Perhaps it had been a nightmare. She didn’t feel any different. Perhaps he had not run his hands all over her before she had fallen asleep, drugged in his embrace.
Lizzie Tempest Ruins A Viscount (Felmont Brides Series Book 1) Page 7