couldn’t help it. If he was any sort of gentleman, he would divert his eyes and give her a chance to right herself. But he couldn’t stop staring. Her gown had shifted enough to reveal the swell of her bosom and edge of her cotton shift.
Dear God, and he had thought fantasizing about her ankles was provocative. Now he had an image of her exposed breasts that would linger when he closed his eyes at night. The creamy mounds glowed in the candlelight and he thought he could see the edge of dusk-colored areolas. Sweet Mary and Joseph, the urge to press his face in her cleavage rose up with a near violent need, to learn the scent of her, to taste her breasts and pillow his head on them as he slept.
“Could you retie my laces, please?”
Her soft voice jerked Stephen back to attention. In his distraction, Miss Hodges had turned her back to him and was waiting patiently for him to fix what he had undone. He swallowed against the tightness in his throat and reached for her laces; he had to flex his fingers to stop trembling.
“Who else knows about this?” Miss Hodges asked when she was able to face him again.
Stephen moved to the door but did not open it. He forced his eyes to stay on her face. “No one.”
Her brows raised. “No one? Not Mr. Renard?”
“No. Darrow said he did not know who to trust. I see no reason to trust a man I do not know.”
She paused in front of him, completely unaware of his struggle to keep his eyes above her chin. “Yet, you trust me,” she said softly. “Should I be honored?”
He tilted his head and placed his hand on the doorknob. “You have proven yourself.”
A faint blush covered her cheeks and she smiled to his chest. Stephen opened the door for her. “Thank you,” she said. “Good night.” She dropped a curtsey and was gone, leaving Stephen alone with visions in his head and a lingering scent of sweetness in the air.
C HAPTER E LEVEN
----
S everal days later, Bonnie and Arthur entered the house in a fit of giggles from the race they were having. “Oh no, you don’t,” Bonnie cried, scooping up the boy. “You’re not going to win. I will get to the stairs first.”
Arthur shrieked and struggled in her arms until Bonnie pretended to drop him, giving him the lead again. She followed in a flurry of skirts and gasps, their rapid footsteps resounding in the manor’s large foyer. A footman caught off guard had to scamper out of the way; Burdis gracefully raised the tray of glasses over their heads and continued on as though nothing out of the ordinary happened.
Arthur reached the stairs by one stride ahead of Bonnie. She picked him up again and collapsed on the stairs, tickling him until he was gasping for breath. “How dare you beat me?” Bonnie teased, her fingers eliciting more giggles from him. “Don’t you know you’re supposed to let ladies win, you silly boy!”
Arthur sat up, wrapped his arms around her neck, and planted a sloppy kiss on her cheek. He pulled away and gave her a broad grin. Bonnie smiled back at him. “Oh you, sir, are going to be a charmer when you grow up, aren’t you?”
“Miss Hodges, do you need some help?”
“Hm?” Bonnie glanced up to see Alfred, a footman who had been at Darrowgate for several years. “Excuse me?”
“Do you need help?” Alfred repeated. “With Master Arthur, miss. I can take him upstairs while you put yourself to rights.”
Alfred. A good footman, efficient and solicitous. A quiet man. Silent to the point of reticence. He had been working with her for four years and Bonnie couldn’t even say if he was originally from the area.
Send Arthur with him? Absolutely not.
Bonnie smiled and got to her feet, ensuring Arthur did the same. “No thank you, Alfred. We are fine. Do you know if Mrs. Dabbs sent up tea to the nursery yet?”
“I believe so, miss.”
“Excellent.” Bonnie took Arthur’s hand. “Let’s head up there and sneak a bit before Henry and Sir Stephen come, shall we Arthur?”
Dear God, and he had thought fantasizing about her ankles was provocative. Now he had an image of her exposed breasts that would linger when he closed his eyes at night. The creamy mounds glowed in the candlelight and he thought he could see the edge of dusk-colored areolas. Sweet Mary and Joseph, the urge to press his face in her cleavage rose up with a near violent need, to learn the scent of her, to taste her breasts and pillow his head on them as he slept.
“Could you retie my laces, please?”
Her soft voice jerked Stephen back to attention. In his distraction, Miss Hodges had turned her back to him and was waiting patiently for him to fix what he had undone. He swallowed against the tightness in his throat and reached for her laces; he had to flex his fingers to stop trembling.
“Who else knows about this?” Miss Hodges asked when she was able to face him again.
Stephen moved to the door but did not open it. He forced his eyes to stay on her face. “No one.”
Her brows raised. “No one? Not Mr. Renard?”
“No. Darrow said he did not know who to trust. I see no reason to trust a man I do not know.”
She paused in front of him, completely unaware of his struggle to keep his eyes above her chin. “Yet, you trust me,” she said softly. “Should I be honored?”
He tilted his head and placed his hand on the doorknob. “You have proven yourself.”
A faint blush covered her cheeks and she smiled to his chest. Stephen opened the door for her. “Thank you,” she said. “Good night.” She dropped a curtsey and was gone, leaving Stephen alone with visions in his head and a lingering scent of sweetness in the air.
C HAPTER E LEVEN
----
S everal days later, Bonnie and Arthur entered the house in a fit of giggles from the race they were having. “Oh no, you don’t,” Bonnie cried, scooping up the boy. “You’re not going to win. I will get to the stairs first.”
Arthur shrieked and struggled in her arms until Bonnie pretended to drop him, giving him the lead again. She followed in a flurry of skirts and gasps, their rapid footsteps resounding in the manor’s large foyer. A footman caught off guard had to scamper out of the way; Burdis gracefully raised the tray of glasses over their heads and continued on as though nothing out of the ordinary happened.
Arthur reached the stairs by one stride ahead of Bonnie. She picked him up again and collapsed on the stairs, tickling him until he was gasping for breath. “How dare you beat me?” Bonnie teased, her fingers eliciting more giggles from him. “Don’t you know you’re supposed to let ladies win, you silly boy!”
Arthur sat up, wrapped his arms around her neck, and planted a sloppy kiss on her cheek. He pulled away and gave her a broad grin. Bonnie smiled back at him. “Oh you, sir, are going to be a charmer when you grow up, aren’t you?”
“Miss Hodges, do you need some help?”
“Hm?” Bonnie glanced up to see Alfred, a footman who had been at Darrowgate for several years. “Excuse me?”
“Do you need help?” Alfred repeated. “With Master Arthur, miss. I can take him upstairs while you put yourself to rights.”
Alfred. A good footman, efficient and solicitous. A quiet man. Silent to the point of reticence. He had been working with her for four years and Bonnie couldn’t even say if he was originally from the area.
Send Arthur with him? Absolutely not.
Bonnie smiled and got to her feet, ensuring Arthur did the same. “No thank you, Alfred. We are fine. Do you know if Mrs. Dabbs sent up tea to the nursery yet?”
“I believe so, miss.”
“Excellent.” Bonnie took Arthur’s hand. “Let’s head up there and sneak a bit before Henry and Sir Stephen come, shall we Arthur?”
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