hot. ‘Oh,’ she gasped. ‘I must have fallen asleep. I beg your pardon.’ She glanced at the clock. Goodness. She had slept for more than an hour. The landlady had taken her tray away and she hadn’t heard a thing. ‘Is everything all right?’
Such a stupid question from the look on his face. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to break free of the fog of sleep.
He grimaced. ‘I hate to do this, but the coroner is requesting a word. About the accident.’
The last word had an odd emphasis, but when she looked at his face, there was nothing to see but a kindly concern. ‘Yes. Of course. If it is required.’
‘I’ll fetch him.’ He made a small gesture with his hand and let it fall. ‘You might want to take a peek in the mirror. Your cap...’ His words trailed off, but there was heat in his eyes she did not understand. He turned away smartly. ‘I’ll fetch him up.’
The moment he closed the door, she leaped to her feet and stared at her reflection in the mirror above the mantel. Heavens, her cap was askew and tendrils of hair were hanging in strings around her face. Mr Read must think her a slattern to be drinking and sleeping in such a state. Cheeks pink with embarrassment, her stomach dipping in shame, she quickly tidied herself barely moments before she heard the tread of heavy steps on the stairs followed by a sharp knock.
‘Come.’
Mr Read ushered in a heavyset gentleman who appeared to be in his sixties with wind-roughened cheeks and a beak of a nose above a grizzled beard.
‘Mrs Falkner, may I introduce Sir Reginald Walcombe. Sir Reginald, this is the lady of whom I spoke.’
Sir Reginald bowed, with a creaking of corset. ‘Ma’am.’
‘Please, gentlemen, be seated,’ she said.
Sir Reginald sat, pulled out an enormous white linen handkerchief and mopped his brow. ‘Stairs, ma’am,’ he wheezed apologetically.
Behind him, amusement twinkled in Mr Read’s eyes for such a brief moment she almost might have imagined it. Almost. But it was such a warming and comforting thing, she knew she had not. Indeed, she had a tiny bit of trouble repressing a smile. ‘May I call for the tea tray, Sir Reginald?’
‘No, thank’ee kindly. I had a shot of Lane’s best down below.’
For some reason, Mr Read remained standing. His expression was blank, but he seemed to be watching her intently.
‘Now, ma’am, I know thee’s had a shock, but tell me, if you will, in your own words, what happened.’
She relayed the same information to him as she had told to Mr Read, whose gaze became more intense.
When she got to the part about Garge looking in on her, Sir Reginald frowned. ‘You saw him, ma’am?’
‘No. It took me a moment or two to come to my senses, but the door was open, as Mr Read will confirm.’
‘It was,’ Mr Read said.
Sir Reginald’s bushy brows drew down in a way that would frighten small children and miscreants. ‘He spoke then? Said something to ʼee?’
‘No. The door opened. Nothing else.’
‘Ah, probably the latch gave way. Coach is badly damaged.’ He shook his head. ‘Bad business all around.’ With a laboured grunt, Sir Reginald pushed to his feet with hands braced on the chair arms. ‘A terrible accident, then. And not the first time on that bend. I’ll bid you good day, ma’am.’
‘I will see you out, sir,’ Mr Read said. ‘I will return in a moment, Mrs Falkner.’
Something in the way he looked at her gave her pause. Was there something he wasn’t saying?
Heart beating fast, she awaited his return.
* * *
A good fifteen minutes passed and still no sign of him. She got up and looked out of the window. There was no sign of any conveyance, but the windows of the rooms below cast their light out into the courtyard.
Finally, a light knock sounded at the door. She hadn’t heard anyone mounting the stairs. ‘Who is it?’
‘Read,’ came the low rumble of his voice.
‘Come in.’
He entered with a frown on his face.
‘Is something wrong?’
‘I took the liberty of asking for dinner to be served in here and booking you room for the night. I had your valise and purchases taken upstairs.’
Her stomach pitched. ‘I cannot be away all night. Tommy will worry.’ He was a clever little boy. It had not taken him long to realise that most children had two parents as well as extended families. He knew his father had died and had become terrified she would die, too, leaving him completely alone.
Mr Read’s expression darkened as if her anxiety was his fault, but he gave her no chance to explain. ‘We have no choice,’ he bit out tersely. ‘It is too late to set out tonight. Sir Reginald has promised to send over his carriage for our use in the morning, but he needed it to return home. Lane’s cart is required for funeral purposes.’ His voice was harshly matter-of-fact.
They were stranded. She took a deep breath. ‘I see. Well then, there really is no alternative.’
‘Mrs Lane will show you up to your chamber to freshen up. Dinner is to be served in here in an hour.’ He hesitated and went on in a voice devoid of all expression. ‘If you don’t care for company this evening, I am more than happy to take my meal in the kitchen.’
Despite the flatness of his tone, and an apparent lack of concern about her decision one way or the other, she sensed an underlying tension. As if he expected her to consign him to dine with the servants. He must think her rude indeed. ‘After today’s events I would be grateful for your company, Mr Read. And I wish to hear more of Sir Reginald’s opinion with regard to the accident.’
His expression lightened, very slightly. He bowed. ‘It will be my pleasure. I will let Mrs Lane know you are ready to go up.’
His pleasure. Now, why had that word sent shivers skating down her back?
* * *
Waiting in the parlour for her return, Blade cursed himself for his weakness, for wanting to spend time in her company. He should not have even thought of having dinner with her, let alone suggesting it in a manner that made it impossible for her to say no. So typical of him, Charlie would say. He’d spent too many years on the strut honing his seductive skills to leave them at the door when in decent company. Too bad. He made no pretence of being more than the guttersnipe he’d been born, the reason why some of the more daring ladies liked him in their beds. A taste of excitement and danger. A bit of rough, one had called him to his face.
Not this one, though. This one was a respectable lady who would not have given him the time of day if he wasn’t Charlie’s friend. And nor should she.
He still didn’t know what to make of her assertion that Garge,
