My Wild Heart (Regency Shakespeare Book 2)

by Martha Keyes

  Chapter Fifteen

  Elias could hardly bear the look of alarm on Miss Perry’s face.

  Mr. Drew fiddled his thumbs, glancing at Edith and then Elias, as if it was their ill opinion he feared. “We are just a small establishment, you see.”

  Silence hung heavy in the air.

  “Miss Perry cannot possibly leave the inn,” Elias said, tossing a hand in the general direction of the window, where lightning lit up the sky, as if on cue.

  “No,” said Mr. Drew. “I quite see that. I am afraid that the only other beds we have are in the servant quarters.” He flinched, as though someone might strike him for the suggestion.

  “Good heavens!” Edith said. “No, that will not do at all.” She took in a breath in the manner of someone determined. “If you are agreeable, Miss Perry, I would be happy to share my own chamber with you.” The corner of her mouth trembled. “Provided you don’t snore, that is.”

  Miss Perry gave a little laugh, her mouth spreading into the first smile of the day. “I do not—that is, I do not think I do. Do I?” She turned to her maid, still sitting at the nearest table, who shook her head. Shoulders dropping with relief, Miss Perry turned back to Edith.

  “Very good, miss,” said Mr. Drew. “There is just one thing. The rooms have only one bed—large enough for two, of course”—he glanced at Elias, then hurriedly looked away. “We might lay a few extra blankets on the floor for Miss Perry, I suppose.”

  Edith’s hesitation was so brief it likely went unnoticed by Mr. Drew and Miss Perry. But not by Elias.

  “Nonsense,” she said with a great attempt at nonchalance. “If anyone shall sleep on the floor, it shall be me.”

  “Oh dear,” Miss Perry said. “I could never allow such a thing. I assure you, Mrs. Cherriman, that I have been used to sharing a bed from time to time with my sisters. That is, I wouldn’t presume to—I only wished to say that—oh, it is a great inconvenience, I fear!”

  Elias was nearly sure of it. Edith did not seem the type of person who wished to be touched while she slept—or perhaps ever. Though she had seemed very willing indeed in the library.

  He forced his thoughts back to the present. Miss Perry’s agitation and desire not to trouble anyone—to say nothing of her pitiable circumstances—was affecting, and Elias could see Edith’s impulses warring.

  “It is no inconvenience at all,” she said. “It is rather cold today, so I imagine we will be glad for the extra warmth in the bed.”

  It cost her. Elias could see it in the tightly-balled fists that rested in her lap. But her words had been convincing enough to draw another breath of relief from Miss Perry and to fill her eyes with tears anew—this time tears of gratitude, which Edith brushed off uncomfortably.

  Elias could have kissed Edith. For all she tried to seem cold and unconcerned, she had a kind heart inside her—embarrassed of it though she might be.

  They shared a table for dinner with Miss Perry. Elias had thought to offer it, but Edith beat him to it, engaging the young woman by asking her questions about her brother and then listening politely as memory after memory was recounted. Miss Perry was at her most animated when speaking of her brother, and Elias sent Edith a grateful glance on more than one occasion. He wouldn’t have guessed that speaking of her deceased brother would improve Miss Perry’s mood, but it certainly had.

  No one had ever comforted Elias after his father’s death like Edith was doing for Miss Perry. Indeed, he had hardly spoken of his father since, except in passing. There was something very intuitive and maternal in what Edith was doing, though Elias thought she might throw her plate of food in his face if he told her as much.

  Miss Perry rose from the table before them, insisting they should enjoy at least a portion of their meal without her intrusion, and when Edith dismissed such concerns, Miss Perry confessed herself very tired indeed. She curtsied, then wished Elias a good night, reassuring Edith that she needn’t worry about waking her when she came upstairs to retire.

  Elias watched Miss Perry leave the room. “You needn’t share a room with her, you know. And certainly not a bed.”

  Edith’s brows went up skeptically. “Needn’t I? What alternative do you propose?”

  Elias shrugged. “I suppose I might sleep on that sofa over there, then both of you could have a room and bed of your own.”

  Edith laughed. “What? And endure your complaints all day tomorrow, laid at my door? No, I thank you. It is only one night, and besides, I think Miss Perry should perhaps not be left alone. In fact” —she dabbed at the edge of her mouth with a napkin, then set it on the table— “perhaps I should go to her now.” She gave a nod to her maid to send her ahead to the bedchamber.

  “You are certainly the right person for the task,” Elias said. He knew a pang of envy. How might it have been to have someone as concerned with his well-being after his father’s death? To ensure that he didn’t drown alone in grief?

  “Hardly. I haven’t the first idea what is helpful or not to someone in mourning.”

  “And yet you have managed to soothe her—and even make her laugh. I confess I was nervous when you began asking her questions about her brother, but you were right to do so. It seems to be precisely what she needs.”

  Edith hesitated a moment, putting on her gloves, then looked at him. “Did that sort of thing help you?”

  He stiffened slightly and made an effort to relax. “I wouldn’t know.” He rose to help Edith from her chair, not wanting to say more. He didn’t need Edith to think him any weaker than she already did. It was easier to focus the conversation on Miss Perry—or to engage in the usual banter. He would have plenty of time to ponder on the subject in the coming week—two years since his father’s death, and twelve years since his sister Caroline’s.

  He cleared the thoughts away. “Allow me to escort you upstairs, Mrs. Cherriman.” He glanced at the couple dining at the table near them and raised his voice a bit. “I know how your knees bother you on the stairs these days.”

  Edith pursed her lips, and Elias grinned, offering her his arm. She took it, squeezing it so tightly that he was obliged to stifle a protest. “You are too kind, my dear,” she said.

  They smiled and inclined their heads at the nearby couple, then made their way out of the coffee room.

  A servant showed them to the room prepared for Mrs. Cherriman and Miss Perry and pointed Elias in the direction of his room. “Just past Mr. Stratton’s, sir, but if you reach the door at the end of the corridor, you’ve gone too far, for that’s naught but a closet for linens.”

  Edith and Elias broke arms in front of Edith’s door, waiting until the servant’s footsteps faded. She was gazing down the corridor with a worried brow.

  “What is it?” Elias asked.

  She shook her head. “Nothing. There is nothing to be done.”

  Elias glanced at the door that led to Stratton’s room. “You are concerned about Stratton?”

  She met his gaze and nodded, a wry smile touching her lips. “You will say that it is all my fault. And you will be right.”

  Her feeble attempt at humor wrung his heartstrings. “Ah, but why state the obvious?”

  She chuckled lightly, but the wrinkle in her brow remained.

  He reached for her hand, surprising himself. He wondered if she might refuse the gesture, but she didn’t. “We will come about, Edith.” He smiled. “Mr. Stratton is no match for the two of us. Besides, we have observed propriety quite rigorously, I think.”

  She nodded, but there was no alleviation of the worry on her face as she took her hand from his to open the door to the bedchamber.

  He didn’t want her to leave. He wanted to ease her worry. He wanted to follow her into the room and reassure her until she believed that he wouldn’t allow any harm to come to her reputation.

  A bit counterproductive, that idea.

  Her gaze met his as she bid him good night. Was he only imagining the reluctance there? He was no longer certain how to interpret Edith�
��s actions and expressions, all because of a stupid prank.

  The door closed softly behind her, and Elias stood in the same spot for another moment, hearing the muffled sound of Miss Perry saying, “Oh, Mrs. Cherriman,” in a surprised voice.

  Mrs. Cherriman. His pretended wife. It was a word he had disdained for as long as he could remember. And yet tonight…

  He sighed and turned down the corridor to his own room.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Edith awoke in the morning to the light pattering of raindrops on the window pane and the roof above. She kept her eyes shut, holding on to the last bits of sleep and trying to discern how heavy the rain was. She dreaded the moment she would have to pull back the bedcovers.

  It was so very warm in the bed, a warmth accentuated by the way the cool air in the room nipped at the exposed skin on her face. She didn’t have to look to know that there was no fire in the grate, for she could hear raindrops pattering on the old ashes.

  Perhaps she would stay in bed all day—the prospect of interminably looking through the drizzle on the windows in hopes that it would stop was hardly appealing, and pondering on the conundrum she was now in even less so.

  She took in a deep, drowsy breath. If only her entire body could be as warm as her arm felt.

  She stilled, her muscles going rigid.

  As slowly as she could manage, she turned her head on her pillow, letting out an enormous sigh of relief as her gaze landed upon Miss Perry.

  Not Elias. Of course not Elias. She had not invited him into her room. And she had certainly not kissed him again. Wisps of a dream—that’s all it was.

  Of course, it was strange to lie beside Miss Perry, too. Edith had never shared a bed in her life. But Miss Perry looked so serene in her slumber, none of the grief that had been so apparent in the lines of her face yesterday visible now.

  Edith slipped quietly from the bed, shivering as her feet met the cold planks, and hurriedly reached for her wrapper. She pulled her loosely plaited hair over her shoulder, tugging on the loops of the ribbon that tied the bottom to tighten the bow.

  She hesitated with her hand by the bell. She didn’t wish to wake Miss Perry, but she needed to dress. The rain had certainly lightened, and she was anxious for news of the bridge. She could only hope that Mercy and Matthew had come up with some credible excuse for her and Elias’s absence.

  She clenched her eyes shut. More than likely, they had told Edith’s father of the elopement, for Edith and Elias had taken pains to make them believe their act.

  She pulled the door open a crack, wincing as it creaked slightly. But Miss Perry didn’t move a muscle.

  Edith only had to wait a matter of thirty seconds before a servant passed by, whom she instructed to have her maid sent up. Edith and Susan managed to prepare her for the day in near-silence. But even the noise they had made didn’t seem to rouse Miss Perry. Perhaps the weight of her grief made her sleep heavy.

  Had Elias been like Miss Perry after the death of his father or his sister? It seemed impossible, and yet yesterday Edith had seen a glimpse of just how little she knew Elias Abram. He was not all confidence and wit and arrogance. Miss Perry’s grief seemed to affect him strangely—as if inspiring his sympathy but also a sliver of resentment or disagreeable memories or…what was it? She hardly knew.

  Edith and Susan tiptoed from the room, the former making her way to the coffee room, hoping Mr. Drew might have some news regarding the state of the roads.

  She stopped in the middle of the staircase, noting Mr. Stratton speaking with the innkeeper at the base of the stairs. He glanced up at her, and her stomach dropped at the knowing glint in his eye.

  “Miss Donne.” He addressed her by her real name, making it clear that he didn’t believe the story she and Elias had concocted.

  Mr. Drew’s brow furrowed at the appellation, but he said nothing. Edith could hardly blame him. Mr. Stratton would not welcome his behavior being questioned by the innkeeper, however strange the behavior might appear.

  “Good morning, Mr. Stratton.” She continued down the stairs, determined to stay poised. The more she showed the fear she felt, the more suspicious the situation would seem.

  “Go,” he said to Mr. Drew, and the innkeeper scurried away with a bowed head. Edith had half a mind to go after him, not only to inquire about the roads but to escape Mr. Stratton. But she resisted the impulse. Dealing with Mr. Stratton was every bit as urgent—indeed more so—than discovering how soon she and Elias would be able to return to Shipton House. The thought of the necessary interaction was not a pleasant one.

  Surely an innocent trick had never gone so awry as this one.

  Mr. Stratton turned toward Edith, smiling in a way that made her feel uneasy. “I said Miss Donne, but perhaps you prefer Mrs. Cherriman?”

  She laughed. “Mr. Abram would be delighted to hear you call me Mrs. Cherriman, for it amuses him to vex me.”

  “To vex you.” The words were skeptical.

  “Yes, indeed. I assured him that no one would bat an eye at someone who is so much like a brother to me escorting me here, for I came to intercept a friend returning home for a funeral, you see.” She waved an impatient hand, secretly determined to seek out Miss Perry as soon as she possibly could to beg her understanding and collusion. “In any case, when it became clear that the weather would not permit our departure, Mr. Abram was convinced that he needed to protect my reputation—brothers will insist on such dramatics, I have found—and so, very much against my wishes, he has maintained that we are Mr. and Mrs. Cherriman. You must forgive his irrationality, though, Mr. Stratton, for it is all very well intended, even if somewhat ill conceived.”

  “As you say, miss,” Mr. Stratton said with a slight bow of the head.

  Oh, how uncomfortable he made her!

  “And what of this friend of yours?” Mr. Stratton asked. “I take it she is the young woman in mourning I noted yesterday? Was Mr. Abram not so concerned with her reputation? I confess I am not acquainted with him, but it seems, from what you have told me, as though he would be troubled on her account, as well.”

  For a moment, it seemed as though her story was unraveling, but she had too much determination to accept defeat. “You should have seen him worrying over the matter, but he felt that Miss Perry’s reputation could not be in question if it were known that she was traveling with Mr. and Mrs. Cherriman.”

  “No one would dare, I’m sure,” he said ironically.

  She ignored the barbed comment, glancing at one of the maids coming out of the coffee room. “Would you excuse me, Mr. Stratton? Miss Perry and I were obliged to share a room last night, and I assured her when I left a few minutes since that I would see to it that fresh kindling was brought and a fire lit, for we were obliged to huddle together the entirety of the night to stay warm.”

  Had it been too obvious? She wanted to leave no room at all for Mr. Stratton to make any assumptions about the relationship between her and Elias—or what might have occurred under cover of nightfall. “I apologize for taking far too much of your time with information which has no doubt been most tedious to you.”

  “Tedious?” He smiled politely. “On the contrary. I found it fascinating.”

  She stifled the impulse to swallow uncomfortably, then curtsied and strode to the maid who was scaling the stairs. Edith gave her a few quick instructions then continued to the top.

  Edith didn’t dare look back to see whether Mr. Stratton was still standing at the base of the staircase, so it was not until she was obscured by the corridor wall upstairs that she stopped and let out a long, slow exhale.

  Never had her powers of mind been taxed so heavily. Nor had she ever spoken such longwinded poppycock. She was known for being quick. Abrupt. Pithy. She could only hope that Mr. Stratton didn’t refine too much upon the change in demeanor.

  And that Miss Perry wouldn’t mind perjuring herself.

  And that Elias would take it in stride that she had made him out to be a ridiculous but
well-meaning fool.

  She smiled slightly. He was accustomed to Edith’s ways by now, surely. And even if he wasn’t, there was too much at stake to worry about such things.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Elias was relieved to find that the pounding rain had lightened to a rhythmic pitter-patter when he woke. His next thought was how Edith had fared sharing a bed with Miss Perry for the night. He felt a large measure of guilt, having all the space of his own bed to himself, but there hadn’t been a good alternative—at least not a suitable one. His heart quickened as he thought what it might be like to share a bed with Edith.

  When he stepped into the coffee room after dressing for the day, Edith and Miss Perry were already there, partaking of tea and toast. He surveyed Edith for a moment, noting the faint crease between her brows. Was it a result of having passed a bad night? Or was she still plagued with worry over the situation?

  He strode over, pulling out a chair and greeting them.

  “There you are!” Edith said. “You’ve been snoring your life away, no doubt.”

  He grinned. “I slept very comfortably, thank you. How did you fare? Were you forced out of bed by your bedmate, Miss Perry?”

  Miss Perry glanced at Edith, who glared at Elias.

  “Not at all,” Miss Perry said, setting down her cup. “In fact, I don’t think I woke at all, save for very quickly when I found my arm to have fallen asleep.” She laughed with timidity and glanced at Edith. “I discovered that you had wrapped your arms around mine, as though you thought me a pillow or some such thing. Robert always used to clutch at his blankets in much the same way while he slept.” She smiled fondly at the memory of her brother. “I was glad that I didn’t rouse you when I extricated my arm.”