Page 20 of To Snare an Heiress (Gaol Manor #1)
WILLIAM HELD MAB CLOSER to him.
Except it wasn’t his fairy he was clutching to for dear life but a pillow.
William groaned as he shuffled in the bed, his too-tight nightshirt irritating him as the material constricted his movements. He cracked open an eye, only to be met with an empty bed beside him. He felt his stomach hollow and cursed himself for not waking sooner.
Mab .
He rolled over to his other side, discarding pillow-Mab and cursing her name. How could she be here ? He’d come to find a wife, not the ghost of some childhood fantasy. He knew that no other woman in Gaol Manor could compare to Mab – or the version of her that he’d constructed in his head at least. And now he would pine after her and not consider any other woman. He felt it in his bones. And what would happen when she turned out to be different from the image he’d created of her in his mind? Why, he’d crumble, of course.
William let his eyes fall on Benedict’s bed and shot up to a sitting position when he realised that it too was vacant.
“Ah! The dead has arisen!”
William turned expecting to see the doctor but was met instead by a fair-haired woman in a rough-hewn dress, a bright white apron covering her.
“Is Benedict well?” asked William.
“I am indeed!” called Benedict from somewhere down the far side of the infirmary.
“He’s just getting changed now,” said the woman, who William supposed must be a nurse. “He’ll have a sore head, as will you, I’d wager. But nothing a bit of rest won’t sort out. Now, how about a bite of breakfast, and then the pair of you can be on your way.”
“I think I will eat at the lodge,” said William, pulling the bedclothes off himself.
The nurse stifled a giggle. “It looks like you picked up the wrong nightshirt.”
William blushed from head to toe. He had a vivid recollection of trying his best to walk with as much dignity as was humanly possible up to his bed last night without making eye contact with Mab. An involuntary groan of embarrassment, mixed with something else, escaped his lips as he recalled the way Mab’s eyes had widened as her gaze had dragged up and down his form.
“There’s some fresh clothes for you there,” said the nurse. “If you’re sure you won’t have breakfast, I’ll let them know to call a carriage for you.”
William’s stomach growled, and the nurse eyed him expectantly. But the thought of having to spend another moment in the same house as Mab, her wicked smile at his latest embarrassment fresh in his mind, had William pulling on his woollen socks before the nurse could protest any further. As she left to call a carriage, William couldn’t help but think that every time he locked eyes on Mab, he was destined to do something truly humiliating. Thus far, he’d been thrown into a pond, knocked unconscious, and had to stride past her in a ladies’ nightshirt. He only hoped that these things happened in threes and that his string of unfortunate luck when encountering the woman of his dreams was at an end .
William had just managed to pull on his jacket when Benedict rounded the corner.
“Ah! William! I have just been filled in on our little adventure from last night,” he said in a too-chipper tone. “What an escapade! I plan to write to mother and father to tell them all about it when we get back to our rooms.”
William was glad that the young man didn’t feel the same pangs of embarrassment as he did
It wasn’t long before the nurse returned and escorted them to the front doors, all the while listing the many dangers of the Highlands at night-time and how to avoid crossing her threshold again.
The coach was waiting for William and Benedict at the front of the house. The driver, one of the many nondescript guards, dashed from his seat the instant he locked eyes on the pair and hurriedly opened the door for them.
“Ouch.” Benedict winced as his head hit the firm cushions of the seat.
“Are you sure you don’t want to stay a bit longer in the infirmary?” William asked, despite not wanting to set foot in Gaol Manor for the foreseeable future lest he die of shame. “I’m sure they’d let me stay with you.”
“No,” said Benedict. “I think I just need a comfortable bed and—” He sucked in a breath as the carriage jolted.
“A bit of rest?” William finished for him.
“Indeed.” Benedict stared through the window of the carriage and across the lolling valley. “Look!” he exclaimed. “There’s a little cottage over there!”
William craned his neck over Benedict’s shoulder to see what he was pointing at. Though it wasn’t particularly far away, the thatched roof of the cottage camouflaged it with the valley, the tendrils of smoke the only noticeable indication that a dwelling was nestled among the heather.
Walking away from the cottage were two immediately recognisable, though decidedly less scary in the daylight, figures .
William gurned and shrunk back into his seat.
“What’s the matter?” asked Benedict.
“Those two are the reason you and I had to spend a night in the infirmary,” William replied, hoping that the carriage was far enough away for Mab and Tilly not to notice him.
“Oh!” Benedict practically squealed. Then excitedly added, “Which one almost killed me?”
“The dark-haired one. Tilly.”
Benedict blanched. “Tilly,” he repeated. “The young girl who ...”
“Yes.”
“ Ah .”
WILLIAM AND BENEDICT were greeted with enthusiastic applause and declarations of delight that neither of them had perished in the storm by the other residents of Gaol Lodge. The news of their escapades, and their rescuers, was the talk of the Lodge. One delightful resident declared that the look he’d seen on Mab’s (though he’d referred to her aptly as the angry red-headed one) face when they’d returned to the house had him convinced that William would return to the Lodge either maimed or married, he couldn’t be sure, and was disappointed that neither theory was correct.
After a few more comments were exchanged, William and Benedict retired to their room. Both were delighted to see their fire roaring and a table full of food waiting for them. The pair ate their fill and, despite it only being mid-afternoon, changed into their nightshirts and climbed into their beds.
William stared into the dark-oak rafters, wishing sleep to take him. He was exhausted, but he just couldn’t seem to let sleep claim him. Benedict’s periodic repositioning and irritated sighs told him the young lad was also struggling to sleep.
Finally, Benedict violently shuffled to face William.
“Do you think ...” he started .
William knew what his question would be but let the young lad voice it himself.
“Do you think Tilly might come to the soiree tomorrow evening?”
William let out a sigh. He had hoped that he could avoid going to the next soiree to save face in case she was there. Though Mab hadn’t come to the last one, and he highly doubted she’d be champing at the bit to meet the men she’d crossed paths with in a storm. William – who knew that the young lad wanted to go to the party tomorrow evening in the hopes of meeting Tilly, meaning William would therefore have to attend – hoped that Mab found the same reason as before to stay away from the party.
“I doubt it,” William answered truthfully.
Benedict sighed. “It’s just ... well ... I think a woman like Tilly ...”
William didn’t need Benedict to finish his sentence to be able to infer what he was alluding to. The lad’s biggest fear was admitting to a woman that he wouldn’t be able to perform often, if at all. He could only offer a potential wife security and friendship. William placed a hand on his friend’s shoulder.
After a moment, Benedict added, “Maybe we could ask her friend, the one that almost killed you, if Tilly might be ...” Benedict trailed off once more.
William tried his best not to think of Mab. He had hoped to avoid her at all costs. But if his friend needed answers and Mab was the only one that could give them, he guessed he would have to interact with her.
He would make a point of seriously considering each of the other women – the ones that showed interest in him, that is – so that he had no call to get to know Mab any more than was necessary. And, therefore, he would have no reason for the one thing that had saved him from his lonely, miserable life to be destroyed by knowing the real person his ideal woman had been created from.