Miss Wetherham's Wedding by Linore Rose Burkard

Author:Linore Rose Burkard
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Lilliput Press
Published: 2021-03-14T00:00:00+00:00

AS BETSEY HELPED LETTIE into a nightdress and mob cap about twenty minutes after Nick left her at home before going on with Miss Alden, a knock at her bedchamber door, followed by Dudley’s voice, startled both ladies.

“Ma’am, Mr. Dellacort is below.” These were the sole words.

Betsey looked amazed. “At this hour! Ay, miss, he mus’ be daft!”

Lettie said, “He is bold and bothersome, but not daft.” She pursed her lips, thinking. Had he escorted Miss Alden home so quickly? If that was the case, he hadn’t spent much time with her. She drew a sheet to her chin. “Dudley!”

The butler came bowing and shuffling into the room, keeping his eyes averted from where Lettie lay on her bed as if she were Minerva who could turn him to stone. “Yes, ma’am?” he asked, his eyes glued to the floor.

“Tell Mr. Dellacort to call upon me tomorrow at a decent hour.”

Dudley ducked his head lower. “Yes, ma’am.”

Lettie sighed and sank her head in the pillow. Whatever was wrong with that man, calling upon her at such a scandalous hour? It was unheard of. She dismissed Betsey and was about to blow out her candle when she heard footsteps approaching.

He’d sent Dudley back with a message? Was he not going to give her any peace? She sat up, waiting for the servant. In a moment a soft knock followed.

“Come in, come in!” she cried. Didn’t he know she wanted only to be done with the business so she could get some rest?

The door opened and in walked Nicholas Dellacort. Lettie’s eyes widened, she gasped and drew her sheets back up to her chin.

“How dare you enter my bedchamber!”

He smiled disarmingly and took a step nearer. “If you had come to me, I need not have bothered.”

“You are too bold, sir!”

“You said, “Come in! Come in!”

Her lips tightened and sparks flew from her eyes. Unhappily, Lettie’s face held such amiability that when she was angry, she succeeded in looking only adorable, not formidable. Such must have been Mr. Dellacort’s thought, for he took a step closer.

“Halt!” she cried. “You evidently believe I am a helpless woman, unable to protect myself from this monstrous behaviour—”

“And aren’t you?” he asked easily, taking another step nearer.

“I have—a-a butler!” she cried.

“Indeed. A remarkable specimen,” he said, “as ancient as they come, and as able to defend you as a lamb against a lion.”

“That may be so,” she said, fuming. “But I do not doubt he is off to fetch a charley or a magistrate as we speak. I’ll have you hauled to King’s Bench!”

Just then they heard the unmistakable sound of footfalls shuffling off in the butler’s slow pace. Dudley had not, it seemed, been engaged in fetching a charley or magistrate.

Dellacort’s eyes filled with mirth. “Actually, I did not expect to find you abed so quickly.”

“Why are you not at home in your own bed?”

“I must know what happened between you and the earl.”

“And that cannot wait for the morrow?”

“It can, no doubt. But I cannot.

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