The Duke's Reform by Fenella J Miller

Author:Fenella J Miller [Miller, Fenella J]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 2012-06-05T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

The snow showed no sign of melting and Isobel resigned herself to the fact Alexander could not depart for several more days. Gradually she became accustomed to sharing her meals and her home with him once more. He was so pleasant, so charming and such lively company that being incarcerated with him was no hardship.

The fourth night of his visit they had been playing an entertaining game of Piquet, which he had won, when he tossed his cards on the table and walked over to the window. 'I believe it's raining, the snow will be gone by tomorrow.' He peered behind the heavy curtains and nodded.

'Listen, you can hear the flames spitting. It must be decidedly heavy to come down the chimney like this. The roads will be a quagmire; I think you had best wait until the carriage arrives. Your leg isn't sufficiently recovered for you to ride back to Grosvenor Square,' Isobel said.

He grinned and stared ruefully at his injury. 'As always, my dear, you're quite correct. In which case you must endure my presence for a further day or two.'

Resuming his seat he stared into the flames while she picked up her novel. Unexpectedly Sam appeared at the door his face creased with concern. He looked from one to the other and then addressed his mistress. 'Excuse me for interrupting, my lady, but I've to tell you the ceiling has just collapsed in your bed chamber.'

'Good grief! How can that be? The roof was sound when I moved in, and we have had several heavy downpours since with no leaks at all.'

'I reckon the weight of the snow cracked the tiles and with all that melting and then this downpour it came right through.'

Alexander got to his feet. 'Is it just this one room, or are others affected?'

'There's leaks springing up all down that side of the building, your grace.'

'The tiles are ancient. There's been nothing done to this place for generations, small wonder they have given out under these extreme conditions. Move her grace's belongings into my bed chamber.'

Isobel shot up sending her novel flying into the grate. Alexander grabbed the poker and flicked it from the flames before it was seriously damaged. Picking up the book he extinguished the remaining sparks with his fingers. 'Not seriously damaged, a trifle pungent but definitely still readable.'

Her protest about his highhanded suggestion that she move into his bed chamber remained unspoken. 'But what about your hand? Have you burnt it?'

He waggled his fingers in front of her face. 'See, no damage to them either. I must go and see—'

'Alexander, I'm quite sure my staff are capable of placing buckets under the drips where necessary. There's something I wish to say that's more important than you overseeing the positioning of receptacles.'

Shrugging he returned to his chair and raised an inquisitive eyebrow. 'Well, my dear, what's it you wish to say to me?'

'If you think that I —'

'There's no need to fly into the boughs, Isobel. I've no intention of remaining in my bed chamber once you're safely installed there.

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