Dearest Rogue by Hoyt Elizabeth

Author:Hoyt, Elizabeth [Hoyt, Elizabeth]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Fiction / Romance / Historical / General, Fiction / Gothic, Fiction / Romance / Historical / Regency, Fiction / Historical
Publisher: Grand Central Publishing
Published: 2015-05-25T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter Ten

That night Corineus and the sea horse slept upon the moor under the wide, moonless sky. A breeze stirred among the stars, and seemed to bring a faint, melancholy song, as if dozens of maidens lamented the loss of their sister.…

—From The Kelpie

It wasn’t until a wheezing innkeeper showed them their room later that night that Phoebe fully comprehended what it meant that she and Trevillion were traveling as man and wife.

Married couples shared a room.

And a bed.

All day riding in the carriage and not once had that fact occurred to her. Perhaps all the jostling from the poorly sprung carriage had made her soft in the head.

She heard the faint scrape of a boot as Trevillion turned at the other side of the room… some ten feet away.

He cleared his voice. “The bed is small, but quite adequate for two adults. We will, of course, place a pillow or some such thing in the middle.”

She cocked her head. “Are there more than two pillows?”

“No.”

“Then what will one of us place our heads on?”

“I’ll think of something,” he said repressively. “Now. Directly to your right is a washstand and basin.” He crossed over and she heard the sound of pouring water. “Plenty for you to wash, although I’m afraid it isn’t heated. The… er, chamber pot is just under the bed, on the side nearest you. I shall go check on Reed and make sure he’s comfortable. I’ll be about half an hour.”

And he went out of the room while she was still blushing over the chamber pot instructions.

Phoebe blew out a breath and took a step to the right, her hand outstretched. Immediately she bumped against the washstand. She traced her fingertips over the top until she came to a small pitcher—pewter—and the washbasin—china with a chip on the lip.

Nodding to herself, she untied her bonnet. There was a chair by the washstand and she laid the bonnet there. Fortunately the clothes provided by Mrs. Wooster were a working woman’s apparel—things, unlike her own, that she could take off and put back on without a lady’s maid. She had a pang at the thought of Powers. Where was the girl now? Maximus would’ve let her go without reference at the very least. Phoebe shook her head. She didn’t think Powers had hated her—although it was always hard to tell what a good servant truly felt about their master or mistress. But to risk a plum situation as a duke’s sister’s lady’s maid, Powers must’ve been quite desperate. Phoebe made a vow to herself to inquire after Powers once she returned to London, and find out if she needed help.

That settled, she removed her fichu, apron, skirt, and bodice and placed them neatly on the chair. Then, standing in only her stockings, shoes, stays, and chemise, she washed her face and neck. Brrr! Trevillion had been correct: the water was chilly.

The thought of his perhaps returning while she was in her undergarments spurred her on to untie the laces

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