Page 32 of Entwined By Error (Madcaps of Mayfair #1)

A Woman Most Fortunate

Keeping her husband abed proved less difficult than Myra had originally expected. As soon as she’d kissed his head, the fight went completely out of him, and he became the perfect patient, docile and willing to do whatever she asked.

She spent the rest of the day stealing quiet glances into his room, reassured each time by the sight of him resting peacefully. Yet with every glimpse, a tingle flickered across her lips—a lingering echo of the moment she had dared to press them to his forehead.

Rather than returning to her usual routines, she found herself adrift in her bedchamber, her thoughts consumed not with duties but with a question that refused to leave her in peace: what might it feel like to kiss him properly?

The following morning, Myra forced herself back into a normal schedule.

She started out with household duties, reviewing the supper menu and resolving a dispute between two housemaids over a feather duster.

But when she could handle the separation from her husband no longer, she chose to turn to the right and continue onto the study instead of spending her morning with her embroidery.

Along the corridor, housemaids bustled about, dusting ancient vases and stern ancestral portraits that stared down disapprovingly from their gilded frames. Myra passed them with a nod, her slippers silent on the carpet, her mind focused upon seeing her husband and tending his wound.

She hadn’t meant to seek Daniel out again so soon. But with each passing hour spent away from him, the pull grew stronger like a thread wrapped around her heart, tugging her to his side.

She’d always thought love would arrive like a thunderclap, loud, undeniable, perhaps even inconvenient.

But it was nothing like that. Her heart had turned toward him, changing as she spent time with him, a warmth spreading through her chest with every stolen glance, brush of their hands, and soft-spoken word.

Somehow, he’d taken her heart captive, and she didn’t want it back.

If this was love, this ache to be near him, to see his smile, to brush her fingers along his hairline, to kiss his forehead, then she hoped it never faded.

Lightly knocking on the door, Myra didn’t wait for permission.

With the click of the doorknob, she pushed it open to find her husband sitting at his desk.

She arched a brow and strode toward him, setting the basket of bandages down with a deliberate thud.

“Can you not follow the simplest of requests? I believe I told you to stay abed.”

Daniel leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk. “I took it under advisement, but your ministrations were enough to set me on a path to healing. I am quite well, as you can see.”

“What of your injury?” She reached out, untying the bandage so she could clean the wound and apply a salve. “Surely one night was not enough to heal you.”

He winced as she pressed a wet towel against his wound. Reaching up, he ran his fingers along her arm, drawing imaginary circles from the top to the bottom that brought a smile to her lips. Goose pimples bubbled up on her arms, but she didn’t allow her ministrations to suffer from the distraction.

“Likely not, but I was absolutely restless.”

When she finished by tying the bandage off once more, she frowned right before she kissed his bruised and battered face.

The dark circles around his eyes, black and blue with a hint of red, concerned her.

She didn’t have brothers, only sisters, and none of them had ever been in a fight with a goose.

She simply didn’t know what to do about his injuries, other than to provide the tender care she would have given to her sisters if they had been the patient.

Myra kissed his right temple, determined to leave him in no doubt of her affections. “You could have said you were lonely.”

Daniel pulled her onto his lap and lifted his hand to touch her face. “I had not realized it until after you had left.”

The study grew quiet as she lifted her hand to brush an errant lock of hair that had dipped down over the bandage back into place. Her fingers lingered, the silky-smooth texture of his dark brown hair drawing her closer. “Well,” she said, her voice low, “you might simply ask me to stay.”

She’d expected another saucy comment from her husband, something that made it sound like she had barged into his bedchamber more than once the previous night, making herself a nuisance, but his eyes softened further, and instead of laughing or making light of the situation, Daniel coaxed her a little closer.

His arms were warm, and a wave of pleasure rushed through her chest as he brushed his thumb across her lips.

“Myra,” he said, his voice husky but careful, as though any quick movements or loud sounds might break through the magic around them.

She could have stood, said something pithy, and walked away with the basket of bandages, but she didn’t. Instead, she shifted her chin slightly so she could meet his eyes. “Daniel.”

He moved slowly, allowing her the opportunity to pull away, but she couldn’t bring herself to do so.

This was no longer about the assignment her aunt had given her.

She’d fulfilled that when she’d kissed his forehead.

This was about a desire growing inside her, the need to be near him, the hope that he wanted the same, to be with her.

His hand trembled as he brushed his thumb along her cheek, as though he were surprised that she was still sitting on his leg.

Myra’s hand was still near his hairline, and she allowed her fingers to gently graze his scalp, bringing a smile to his face.

Leaning closer, she could feel the beat of her heart pounding against his chest, and she wondered if he too was experiencing the same thrill of intrigue. Did he want her as much as she did him?

Just as she was going to ask him to kiss her, Daniel leaned forward and claimed her lips with the same tenderness she’d shown when kissing his forehead. His lips were soft as they explored hers, comforting, almost hesitant, but most importantly, sincere.

When he pulled away, Myra’s instinct was to follow his every movement, lean into him and kiss him once more. As he pressed his forehead to hers, she whispered, “I was not expecting it to feel so intoxicating.”

Daniel smiled. “I expected your lips to taste like trouble. If I had known you would be so sweet, I would have kissed you the night we were wed.”

“I likely would have bitten your lip.”

He laughed. “Like this, I hope.”

Myra gasped as he nibbled on her bottom lip. As he pulled away, she shook her head as she attempted to regain her composure. “Not at all like that, Mr. Northcott.”

“Ah, well, I am happy to have been the gentleman that night. For I do not think you would be in my arms right now, otherwise.”

Neither of them spoke, words not necessary as they held each other.

She wanted to stay with him in the study, talking about all the random little things that came into her mind each day, but she knew there would come a moment when he would need to go back to the work he was doing and she would have to untangle the knot in her embroidery.

Could life truly go back to what it had been now that they had kissed?

“Daniel?” She closed her eyes, hoping he would claim her lips once more. “I do not dare hope that life shall always be this wonderful.”

“My love for you shall never waver, my dear.”

Myra ran her fingers down his cheek. She closed her eyes as she rested her forehead against his. “Then I shall count myself the most fortunate of women, for my heart is wholly yours.”

He kissed her again, both savoring the moment—when the door to the study opened, breaking the reverie.

“Daniel, your butler claims you are not at home to visitors.” Striding into the study, Lord Southwood took one look at Myra and then Daniel, raising a brow as he pointed a finger at them. “A rooster caught in the hen house, I see.”

Myra stood, flustered, smoothed her dress down, and then set about gathering the used bandages and replacing the lid on the salve before taking the basket and rushing toward the door. Before she left, she turned back to Daniel. “I intend to visit my aunt today.”

Daniel followed her to the door. “Allow me to send for the carriage.” He didn’t stay in the study with his brother; instead, he followed her into the hall. “Myra, by the time you arrive home, my brother will not be here.”

She touched his arm. “I trust you will do what is best.”

“Do be safe, my dear. I cannot bear to lose you. Not now.”

“I shall return before supper.”

* * *

As Myra sat in Aunt Kingsley’s personal parlor, the familiar porcelain tea set, adorned with delicate roses, sat precisely where it had during Myra’s previous visit; the one stark difference was the air between them now shimmered with anticipation. She had a report to give.

Myra perched on the edge of her chair, her gloves forgotten in her lap, her cheeks flushed and lips twitching with the kind of secret she could not contain.

Aunt Kingsley poured tea with the same elegant grace she’d always shown, but this time her eyes sparkled with mirth.

“You look as though you have swallowed a scandal and cannot decide whether to regret it or savor it,” she said as she stirred in a lump of sugar. “What news is there from Blackbriar?”

“We kissed.” Her voice was breathless as though she had ridden her horse with the speed of lightning instead of riding in the comfort of a carriage.

The teacup halted midair, and her aunt laughed before taking a sip. “You seem quite pleased with the outcome.”

“It was perfect.” Myra sank dreamily into the chair. She felt like she was floating as a smile permanently etched itself into her features. “Until we were interrupted.”

“A maid?” Her aunt tsked in disappointment. “You should talk to the staff about not entering closed doors, or dare I say you should turn the lock next time.”

“It was not the staff. Lord Southwood burst into the study, as if Blackbriar was his inheritance and not Daniel’s estate. It was quite vexing.”

Her aunt blinked, her eyes widening. “Lord Southwood?” Her teacup clinked against the saucer as she set it down with much more force than normal. “What is that scoundrel doing in Bardsea?”

“I am sure I do not know. But Mr. Northcott will take care of the situation and send him on his way.”

Her aunt was not satisfied with the answer, and Myra understood her reasonings. She stilled herself for the moment the question would be asked. “Forgive my boldness, but did any of your old feelings rise to the surface when you saw him?”

Myra shook her head. “Not a single one, Aunt. I know for certain that I never loved Lord Southwood. Daniel is so different from his brother; it makes me wonder if that fortune teller was clairvoyant and not a charlatan.”

“A very lucky charlatan,” Aunt Kingsley said as she pressed the plate of lemon tarts upon Myra.

She accepted a tart, slowly placing it on her plate before she took a deep breath. “I wish for a new assignment.”

“Oh, dear.” Aunt Kingsley laughed as she sat forward and placed a hand on Myra’s arm. “The need for coy glances and stolen kisses is no longer. Mr. Northcott knows you are amenable to his affections. He will be turning up in your bedchamber as steady as the tides.”

Myra placed a hand over her mouth. “Aunt, however shall I prepare?”

Her aunt topped off both their teacups, slowly setting the pot down before she answered. “Did your mother see to your wedding trousseau?”

“Of course.”

“Silk night rails?”

“They are neatly folded in my wardrobe and far too pretty for bed. I do not know why she went to the expense, for it would be inappropriate to wear them elsewhere.”

“You shall want to pick out your favorite and wear it tonight, my dear.”

Digging into her reticule, Myra found her fan. With a snap, it opened, and she set it to fluttering with all urgency as her aunt’s advice replayed in her mind. “Aunt, I shall forever be thankful for your guidance during this time.”