Clenching my fists, I marched from the library all the way to my bedchamber. Once in my room, I yanked the cord for my maid and paced until she arrived. It was a wonder the woman managed to unbutton my gown with how restless I felt, but somehow, I undressed and donned my nightgown. I sat down hard in front of my dressing table mirror, repeating my conversation with Rowan over and over, trying to make sense of how I had managed to be fooled by that man again.
My maid brushed my long hair and began wrapping the front section in curling papers. My foot bounced beneath my chair. Before one side was fully finished, I couldn’t take it any longer. I had to speak with my sisters.
“Pardon me.” I jumped from my seat and grabbed my powder-pink robe laid out on my bed.
“Miss?”
I ignored her, not because I wanted to, but because my brain was not in a proper state. I shoved my toes into my satin slippers, my heels stepping on the backs, and darted from my bedchamber. Shoving an arm through one of my robe’s sleeves, I hurried toward Tabitha’s room. My second arm got lodged in the second sleeve halfway through, and in my rush to walk while sorting it to rights, one of my slippers fell off my foot.
Growling impatiently, I spun around to fetch it. Before I had even bent over, I heard my name called.
“Miss Delafield?”
I whirled back around. Rowan had just rounded the corner of the stairs and was walking down the corridor toward me. His face was screwed up in confusion as he eyed my current state—the night-clad version of me with one side of my head in curling papers, my left arm stuck in my robe’s sleeve, and only one slipper on my foot. So like the intelligent being I am, I stood there gaping at him with my mouth unhinged. It was surely a familiar, dumbfounded expression at least, since I had no doubt stared in much this same way when I had first seen Rowan at Elmhurst earlier that day.
“Do you require any assistance?” His tone was much softer and kinder than it had been a quarter hour before. There were lines of fatigue under his eyes, but I swear I caught a glimmer of amusement in his gaze.
My floundering mouth managed to produce a few words. “No, thank you. I can manage.” My own tone still held a small bite to it, even in my mortified state. I attempted to cover my very modest nightdress with the one side of my robe that was capable of hiding anything and hobbled to the far side of the wall of the corridor. With my free hand, I motioned for him to pass. Any effort I had made to put him in his place in the library now seemed to laugh at me in the face.
“Are you quite sure?” He pointed to the wadded sleeve partially on my arm.
I yanked it as far as I could away from him. “Mm, quite.”
His lips tightened, as he fought a smile. Drat that man.
“Goodnight then, Miss Delafield.” His eyes remained on me as he passed, and I dared stare back, dearly wanting, to my shame, to know what he was thinking. I never got the chance to know, because a moment later, Rowan tripped. On my slipper. His tall body came crashing down in front of me.
My hand, fisted on the knot in my robe, bent over my heart. “Are y-you hurt?”
“Just a little humbled.” In a limbered motion, he jumped back to his feet, my slipper now in his hand. His complexion was slightly pink as he extended the slipper to me. “I believe this is yours.”
I swallowed, my eyes incapable of blinking. “Yes, thank you.”
He nodded, turned, and walked the rest of his way to his room. At least we had both embarrassed ourselves? Right? Or wrong, since it was my fault he had tripped. Oh, good heavens. I wasn’t going to make it to Tabitha’s bedchamber. I grabbed the closest door handle, which belonged to Elizabeth, and practically threw myself inside.
“Arabella?” Elizabeth turned in her desk chair, her nose wrinkled. “What’s wrong? Did you see a mouse again?”
I collapsed against the door behind me. “Worse.”
Elizabeth instinctually drew her feet up under her nightgown. “A rat?”
“Not exactly,” I said, my breath short. “I had two run-ins with Rowan Ashworth. Two! And both were enough to scar me for the rest of my days.”
“You mean you ran into him looking like that?”
Her expression was all I needed to know just how horrible I looked. I squeezed my eyes shut, but it was not enough to prevent great big tears from welling up and pouring down my face.
“Goodness,” Elizabeth said. “It looks like we are going to need Tabitha for this.”
A few minutes later, my sisters dragged me to Elizabeth’s bed. They sat on either side of the butter-yellow coverlet from me.
I took a deep breath and blurted the worst of it. “Rowan Ashworth is Mr. Prologue.”
“Who?” Elizabeth asked.
Tabitha gasped and started coughing. “The man from the bookstore? The one you were flirting with? I can hardly believe it. Then neither of you recognized each other?”
I shook my head over and over again. “It’s uncanny. Too uncanny.”