“I want you to look for lies, Miss Lina. I look at the numbers and my brain swells against my skull. I hate it, Miss Lina, and I’m a damn fool for admitting that, but it’s the truth. I want you to find the lies.”
“And if I can’t find any?”
“Then I’ll send you back to London with my thanks.”
“And if I do?”
“Then I’ll send you back to London with my thanks.”
She looked at him, her expression carefully blanked. He held her gaze for a moment, then abruptly cut off as he put his hand over his mouth to cover a very large yawn. When it was done, he gestured her forward.
“I can’t be more plain than that, Miss Lina.”
She nodded, but she didn’t move. “I’ll do my best.”
He nodded, but beyond that, he didn’t move while she stood there, her shoulders tensing as her heart beat painfully in her throat.
“Miss Lina?”
“Yes, my lord?”
“I need to get to bed. I’m falling asleep where I stand.”
“Yes, my lord.”
He sighed. “You’re supposed to go first. I’ll follow with the lantern.”
She swallowed. He’d be behind her. She wouldn’t know what he was doing until too late. He could grab her, and she’d not be able to defend herself. “I don’t know where to go. If you could lead the way?”
He frowned then cursed under his breath. “I’m being an idiot, aren’t I? I’ve been too long in this backwater.” He held up his arm, elbow crooked in her direction. “Pray, Miss Lina, allow me to escort you to your chamber.”
She blinked. He wanted toescorther? As if she were a highborn lady? She’d been in England long enough to know that no man did that for a woman of her ilk—a foreigner who acted as a servant. And yet, here he was holding out his arm.
She transferred the candle to her far hand and then gingerly set her fingertips to his forearm. “Thank you, my lord.” The words came smoothly as if she were a lady born, but inside she was stunned at her audacity.
“My pleasure, Miss Lina.” Then he began to walk.
They moved steadily through the castle, and at every step her heart seemed to pound a little harder in her neck. What did he mean by this? What did hewant? She barely breathed when they passed through his bedroom. She didn’t dare look at his bed, but kept her gaze fixed ahead. The squiggles were gone from her sight and frozen within her. She glanced nervously about her when they glided through the workroom, but they didn’t pause. He did shoot her an abrupt question.
“Did you bring your abacus? I thought I had one, but I can’t find it.”
“I did, my lord.”
“Good, good.”
Then they were through the workroom and into her bedchamber. She tensed, ready to throw the candle at him if necessary. But as she stepped through, he lowered his arm and stepped back.
“Did you need anything?”
“No, thank you.”
“Let me know if you do. Or Mrs. Hocking.” He gave her a quick bow as he turned away. Then she heard his jaw crack beneath the weight of another large yawn. A moment later, she could hear him bumping about his own bedchamber.
She shut her door, pushing her shoulder against it to be sure that it latched. There wasn’t anything else in the room that she could drag over to block the door. Nothing but her small valise. She put it right in front of door and added the cracked chamber pot as well. They might make noise if he tried to enter her bedchamber. She hoped.
Then she gingerly climbed on her bed, keeping her feet dangling off because she refused to sleep without her shoes on. A hard kick was often a woman’s best defense.
She waited in the awkward position, doing her best to relax enough to rest but not actually sleep. She tensed at every sound and several that she imagined but didn’t hear.