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Miss Sparrow’s face softened. “I would much prefer staying in the flat, if that’s quite all right, Lady Vivian, Lady Litchfield. I’d feel like I’m putting you out.”

Vivian smiled. “Of course you wouldn’t be.”

But Miss Sparrow didn’t seem comforted by this. In fact, she started wringing her hands. “Forgive me.” Miss Sparrow paused for a long moment. “I’m sure your servants are most excellent, but you must understand, I feel best staying somewhere without any ties to the aristocracy.”

Vivian tried to suppress the surprise in her face, but Ollie caught it. “You are worried the servants would gossip is what you are saying. And that it would get back to your family.”

Miss Sparrow swallowed and nodded.

“Well, mine have proven to me that they are trustworthy, but I understand that worry as I had it myself once.” Vivian paused. “If you wish to stay here, that is fine by me as well. I would still like to help, though. Would it be all right with you if I sent some clothing over?”

Miss Sparrow released a huge breath. “Oh, that would possibly be the most helpful thing you could offer me.” The women then briefly discussed what would be needed, and Vivian and Lady Litchfield rushed out the door.

Moments later, Ollie led Miss Sparrow up the stairs that led the flat.

In one hand, he had a key for the door and the other hand, a jug of water for the washstand.

As he put the key into the lock, he said over his shoulder, “I’m not sure what you plan to do after this, but Victor agreed to let you stay for a few days.

” When he got a nod in response he added, “I’ll just let you in and get the fire going, then I’ll be out of your way. ”

Ollie pushed open the door and immediately disappeared behind a screen.

The sound of pouring water told her that the washstand was over in that direction.

As Ollie reappeared without the jug, Miss Sparrow found a knit blanket draped over a chair and wrapped it around her.

She watched Ollie put a long match to the crumpled newspaper in the fireplace that would start the fire.

Once lit, Ollie rose back up, feeling awkward.

She would die of a chill if she stayed in soaking-wet clothes.

“I wouldn’t mind it if you stayed for a few minutes, Mr. McNab. You don’t have to rush out.” Miss Sparrow pulled the blanket around her tighter.

Ollie felt torn on what to do. This wasn’t some woman from the bar—this was Miss Sparrow. And apparently, the daughter of a baron. He really should not have been here. But he also didn’t wish to leave her alone, either.

“What do you want to do in the meantime?” he finally asked.

“What do you mean?”

“You’ll get sick if you stay in that.” He indicated to the puddle that had formed around her feet.

Miss Sparrow looked down at the water-logged dress. “I suppose you’re right. I do wish to remove it.”

Ollie shifted; this was something for the ladies to help with. “Would you like me to see if perhaps Lady Vivian or Lady Litchfield are still waiting on their carriage? Or maybe, there’s another woman downstairs that could be of help?”

“No!” Miss Sparrow shouted with a paled expression of horror.

She immediately closed her eyes as if collecting herself.

“Please. I do not feel comfortable with practical strangers doing that.” She swallowed and opened her eyes again.

“I normally wear bodices that are fastened from the front so that I may dress myself. I don’t ever have help with dressing. ”

“Do you not have a lady’s maid?” This seemed unusual for the daughter of a baron.

Miss Sparrow shook her head. “I’ve gone through a few, though that was a long time ago. My parents were sure I was trying to be difficult, but I wasn’t. I merely didn’t want someone I didn’t know helping with that, even if they were just doing their job.”

Ollie could see the subject bothered her and couldn’t help but wonder why. “Why did you refuse help?”

“I have a severe dislike of being touched by people. Unfortunately, my mother insisted my bridal dress have a million tiny buttons on the back of the bodice.”

“Why?”

Miss Sparrow chewed her bottom lip, then smiled when his confusion continued.

“Never mind, that, Mr. McNab.” But then she began to fiddle her hands together.

“I do feel quite cold and cannot stand another moment of this material sticking to me. I despise the way it feels. Would you be so kind as to help me?”

Ollie nearly choked. “You want me to help you? I really do think Vivian—”

“Please, Ollie. I do not wish to wait until she returns. I’m very cold, the dress is exceedingly uncomfortable, and I want everything related to the earl and the wedding as far from me as possible.”

“But I’m a man.”

“I know. But I suppose I also consider you a friend in these circumstances. I feel far more comfortable with your help than that of any of the others.”

Miss Sparrow turned her back decidedly and Ollie suddenly felt quite shy, which was unusual.

He was a scoundrel, and he very well knew it.

He had unfastened many a bodice in his life.

Though, for someone who rarely went without a woman at his side, it had been many months since he had enjoyed feminine companionship.

Though why that was, he couldn’t say. Somehow, the attention of strange women had lost its luster.

Perhaps, it was merely a consequence of getting older. A sign he was growing up.

“You’re completely sure you want my help with this?” Ollie decided it best to give her one more chance to back out.

“Yes, Mr. McNab.” She glanced over her shoulder and tried not to smile.

Ollie cleared his throat. “I will do my best not to touch you, then, but these are rather small buttons.”

Miss Sparrow gave a single nod, and he began first by lifting the veil off of her head and laying it out over the arm of a nearby chair. He then went to work on the tiny buttons. It was rather unfortunate he did not have a button hook handy, as it took a bit to unfasten one.

“This is ridiculous,” Ollie mumbled to himself with frustration after taking several minutes to only unfasten three buttons. “It would make more sense to cut these off.”

But Miss Sparrow wouldn’t have it. “I know it seems nonsensical, but I would like to return the dress to my family in the best shape possible, as they purchased it for me. I feel like I owe that to them, at the very least.”

Ollie frowned to himself and didn’t argue back. Five buttons had been unfastened. As a log popped in the fireplace, he fiddled with button six. The back of her bodice was now starting to yawn open, exposing a sliver of her bare back, causing Ollie to flush.

“I’m afraid, with the way that it is opening, that I may brush against you.”

She didn’t respond, so he continued.

Now three-quarters of the way through, the bodice completely exposed the top of her bare back and, also, white, lacy undergarments. This startled him, causing a knuckle to brush against her bare skin. It was warm, and soft, and goosebumps rose across its surface.

Miss Sparrow stiffened severely.

“Sorry.” Ollie choked the word out. It then hit him hard. “Oh, I am an idiot,” he mumbled.

“Why?”

“I figured out why the buttons had to be at the back of your bodice.” A sick feeling roiled through him at the thought of a man Miss Sparrow detested undressing her with greed.

“Yes,” she responded after a moment. “Now that I’m being undressed, I’m rather glad it is you behind me at the moment.”

Ollie clenched his jaw severely at the comment she clearly didn’t realize held innuendo, especially to a scoundrel like him.

Finally, the last button was released, and Ollie helped pull the bodice off one arm. Miss Sparrow turned toward him in order to pull it off the other arm.

The bodice now released, she reached back behind her and unfastened the skirt of her dress, letting it squelch to the floor.

Amused by the noise, she looked up at Ollie with a grin.

Her bridal hairstyle, which probably had looked stunning hours earlier, was just starting to dry and the edges were frizzing.

Little, red tufts stuck to her face, neck, and shoulders.

And the wet, white chemise she wore was thin and clung to every inch of her body, revealing a small waist that flared out to wide, perfect, round hips normally hidden under a skirt.

Nothing was concealed except the location of her freckles on pale skin.

Despite the wild state of her hair and clothes, she was absolutely breathtaking.

And something about seeing her in such a raw state turned Ollie’s blood hot.

“That blanket looks soaked through. Let me find you another.” His voice cracked as he hurried away.

He had always enjoyed Miss Sparrow’s company, finding the woman endlessly fascinating.

But it was only now that her beauty ran him over like a stampede of horses. How had he never realized it before?

The image of her in a wet, clingy bridal chemise was going to haunt him for the rest of his life.

Ollie returned with a fresh wool blanket and turned to give her privacy to undress.

“You may turn around now, Mr. McNab,” she said after a moment and she let out a chuckle as he did so. “You look quite embarrassed.”

Shame radiated from his face. “I should probably tell you that your wet chemise didn’t hide anything.”

She merely raised one eyebrow and pulled the brown blanket tighter as she walked over to the sofa in front of the fire. As she sat, the blanket opened just enough to expose one bare, pale leg from the knee down. “Does nudity make you uncomfortable?”

Ollie was normally a very confident man, particularly around women. So why did he feel so ridiculous around her? “Not really, but you’re…well…you know.”

“An innocent?”

“You said you dislike being touched. I imagine, then, you must despise any sort of, erm, bodily exposure.”

“While it is true I despise touch, nudity does not, in fact, bother me at all. Consider my career, Mr. McNab. For the better part of a decade, I’ve been surrounded by more human forms without clothing, than with.

Think of the statues, the paintings, you see when you go to the National Gallery.

I see more nude forms on a daily basis than clothed. Personally, I think nothing of it.”

They stared at each other, him flustered, her smirking at his bashfulness. Get a hold of yourself, man!

Needing to do something, Ollie gathered up Miss Sparrow’s wet garments and meticulously laid them out over furniture and across the floor to, hopefully, dry overnight.

As he completed the task, she said, “I suppose it doesn’t make sense to continue using formal address now that you’ve seen me in my bridal chemise. At least when away from the ears of others.”

Rather surprised by her bluntness, he looked back at her. “Perhaps. If you wish.”

“I will be staying here for a short time, after all.” The amusement of the moment melted from her face, however. She pulled the blanket around her even tighter and looked down at the floor. “Thank you for helping me, Ollie.”

Hearing her say his name felt strange, but not in a bad way. He sat on the other end of the sofa. “I’m glad I can,” he said, meaning it in every possible sense. “Evelyn.” She was graceful, but he felt like a bumbling fool, as if he were a tot speaking a new word.

Thankfully, she didn’t seem to realize that, but there was a quirk of her lips and a flush on her cheeks. “I apologize for not telling you about all of this yesterday.”

“Why didn’t you?” Ollie asked gently. “Surely, you know you could have.”

She kept her eyes averted but gave a small smile. “I was doing my best to not think about it too much, I suppose. I felt that I was a bucket filled to the brim, and one more drop would send me over the edge.” She paused. “Which did happen, anyway.”

“I’m glad you ran.”

She turned her head to him, surprise on her face. “You are?”

“Yes. I don’t know anything about the man you were supposed to marry today, but it’s quite clear to me that the idea of becoming his wife distressed you. I’m glad you got yourself away. What do you plan to do, though?”

She looked crestfallen. “I don’t know. I don’t know, Ollie.”

He rubbed at his jaw in thought. “Well, let’s worry about today. I work until the wee hours of the morning, so I have to return downstairs. But I can have food sent up here and then come back tomorrow after I get a few hours’ sleep? How does that sound?”

Her wide eyes flew up to his. “I’ll be alone in this building over night?”

His brow furrowed. “Yes, the pub closes and then we all head home.”

“Could you come back up?” Evelyn stammered. “I don’t want to be alone.”

“I think Vivian or Lady Litchfield could stay with you. Which one of them is returning?”

“I don’t know. But both of them have family at home. Lady Litchfield has young children, and Lady Vivian has her husband. I really don’t want to be an imposition on them.”

Caution snaked through him, but he ignored it. It was one night, and he could easily keep separate. “I suppose I can sleep on the sofa for one night.”

Evelyn’s shoulders dropped. “Oh, thank you, Ollie. I owe you so much for this.”

“You’re already helping my family,” he replied.

But what would happen to Dantes’s art collection now?

Ollie was responsible for it, and he took that quite seriously.

And after the way he’d botched everything so terribly today, the last thing he needed to do was also ruin Dantes’s most prized possessions. He would figure it out tomorrow.