Free The Folly at Falconbridge Hall by Maggi Andersen Page B

silk top hat. “You have a perfectly good bedroom, do you not? One might think we have ill-treated you.”
    “Of course you haven’t … you don’t.” She swallowed, annoyed with herself. “Rest assured I won’t go there again at night. Particularly as others use it.” The words slipped out before she got control of her tongue. She had no intention of getting the staff into trouble.
    “Who was there?” He paused in the act of removing his coat and turned to look at her. “I saw the light myself and was coming to investigate.”
    She pulled her dressing gown closer and folded her arms over her chest. “I don’t know.” She decided to speak frankly and raised her chin. “It appeared to be two people. A man and … a woman.”
    “A man and a woman.” He repeated her words as his gaze ran over her down to her shoes. Did a flicker of heat enter his eyes? She took a step backwards as the suggestion of a clandestine meeting charged the atmosphere. “Can you describe what you saw?”
    “The light was poor,” she said, uneasily. “Obviously, very little.”
    “Then you must have heard them?”
    She clutched her hands in front of her. “Yes, their voices …”
    His eyes gazed into hers and his brows rose in inquiry. “Their voices …” he offered encouragingly.
    Vanessa sucked in an anxious breath, aware that the rest of the house slept. Her heart picked up its beat during a long pause where she struggled to think of something to say that would place them back on a business-like footing. He loomed large and very male, and they skirted around a very risqué subject. Was he aware of how vulnerable he made her feel? She did not know this man well enough to trust him and had heard horrible stories of governesses being seduced by the man of the house. She thought fleetingly of Miss Lillicrop. “Their laughter,” she said firmly. “I left immediately.”
    “Quite so, Miss Ashley. Very correct.” He seemed to gather himself into action and hung his coat on the stand, then gestured towards the stairs. A corner of his mouth lifted. “I gather I needn’t worry about you bowing to such an impulse again.”
    Vanessa’s shoulders slumped with relief. “No, my lord. I believe you’ve removed any such pleasure from the prospect. Goodnight.”
    A dark brow rose, no doubt at her impertinence. “Goodnight, Miss Ashley.”
    He courteously waited until she reached the top of the stairs before turning down the lamp. Vanessa hurried up the next flight, hearing his bedroom door close below as she reached hers. She locked her door and leaned against it. To be found in her dressing gown breaking his rules had been unsettling, but more than that had passed between them. She wasn’t usually given to flights of fancy. Had she imagined the flicker of desire in Lord Falconbridge’s eyes? She sank down on the bed, damp and exhausted. Might he have judged her a prude and an excellent subject to mock? Unfair. She could say little in reply without risking her position, even though it was hardly true. Her years with her eccentric father had prepared her for almost all circumstances. Except, perhaps, someone like his lordship. He disturbed her so much she wished him gone on his travels; although she had to admit, he looked as handsome tonight in his black evening clothes as he had the night of the dance. Pearl buttons decorated his white shirt, and a satin stripe ran down the outside of his trousers, emphasizing the length of his legs.
    She ran a wet flannel over her neck and face, wondering where he’d been. Had he escorted a lady out for the evening? Miss Patterson perhaps? It was certainly no business of hers. Stripping off her dressing gown, she discarded her nightgown damp with perspiration, cast aside her slippers, and climbed naked into bed. She drew the sheet over herself and laid her head on the pillow, thinking of the lovers. She understood why lust was rife in hot places like the West Indies, or so she’d read. The heat