She opened the door, motioning him to precede her inside the room.
“I trust you can tend to your own grate while you’re here.”
He stood inside the chamber and rotated, surveying what would be his domain during his stay.
Although a comfortable room, the space was much smaller than what he was accustomed to. She knew that from firsthand experience. The bed was not even half the size of his back in London. “I know the accommodations are not up to your standards.”
“This is perfectly adequate. I will manage.”
She bristled. Perfectly adequate. “A fortnight will be required, at the most, for me to give you the information you wish. If you should decide to cut your stay short, I would be more than happy to send you word when—”
“I will not be departing early.” His eyes glinted with resolve. “Not a day sooner than necessary.”
“All of this.” She motioned to him and the chamber at large. “It is not necessary. You here is not necessary. I can post you a letter when I have . . .” How did she delicately phrase “when her courses arrived”? Her cheeks warmed just at the thought of it.
“We each do what we feel we must in life, Miss Kittinger. You better than most should understand that.”
She glared at him through narrowed eyes. “I understand that perfectly, Mr. Masters.” She inhaled and marched to the window that overlooked one of her favorite views. “But understand me, Mr. Masters. I will not have your undue influence on my sister whilst you are here.” Unfortunately, she knew that would be a while. A fortnight with him underfoot! It was almost too much to contemplate. What would she do with him here? Staring across from her at every meal?
He looked baffled. “Your sister?”
“Yes. She is young—”
“A child.” He nodded in agreement.
“And very impressionable. Gullible, if you will.”
“And what is it you think I might do?” He crossed his arms, looking vaguely intimidating.
Mercy shrugged, loath to even say it, to give it utterance. “You might have noticed that she was very dazzled by you just now.”
His lips twitched. “As you mentioned, she is young and I imagine . . .” He gestured around them. “Short on diversions out here in the country.”
Because they were so very provincial here and lacking the amusements of London? Yes. That was what her brother constantly claimed. And yet it was difficult not to take offense. She loved it here and treasured her home and would not trade it for anything. What was wrong with these men who could not see that?
“Diversions do run short here.” She nodded crisply. “Make certain that my sister does not become one for you during your stay.”
He snorted. “You must be jesting. My taste does not run to little girls.”
“You also claimed I did not run to your taste.” What happened between them in London and just moments ago in the conservatory would prove that a lie.
“Well, you changed my mind.”
His words felt like an accusation as sharp as a barbed arrow piercing her flesh. She flinched.
He looked her over almost crudely, and added, “As you so diligently intended upon our auspicious first meeting.”
The way he emphasized auspicious indicated that he thought it was anything but that. Of course. She had most inconvenienced him. He was obviously a busy man, and she had taken him away from his busy life for the next two weeks.
He glanced around the chamber. “But it is a nice enough room and a nice house from what I’ve seen so far. I am sure I will enjoy my stay.”
Nice enough.
“Yes. Let’s be clear on that.” She cleared her throat and glanced over her shoulder to make certain no one else had entered the room. Lowering her voice, she whispered hurriedly, “What just happened in the orangery cannot happen again.”
He turned from his survey of the chamber to level his intense gaze on her. “Oh, you mean when you pounced on me and kissed me?”
“Me?” Her mouth dropped open. “Me? You cannot remember it like that!”
“I do. You kissed me first.”
“That was after y-you initiated contact, groping me through my skirts.”
He angled his head as though he were not so certain of that fact. “Just admit it. Now that you’ve had a taste, you’re hot for it, Miss Kittinger. For me.”
“You’re a vulgar beast!”
His eyes flashed. “That’s not what you said when your little hands were diving for my cock.”
She huffed in outrage even as heat flushed through her, settling and pulsing between her legs—just as he had accused. She was a hussy. This man turned her into an insatiable hussy. “You’re a beastly man.”
“Nah.” He shook his head. “Merely an honest one.”
She inhaled through her nose and fought for her composure. “Let us not debate it. Please just agree that we won’t have a repeat scenario.”
His expression turned into a mockery of sincerity. “Well, I certainly hope so. If you can control yourself around me, of course.”
She advanced on him, her steps biting into the wood floor. “Oh, you need not fear that.” She stopped before him and delivered one poke to his chest. “At any rate, you are here to determine that I am not carrying your child. Why would you want to prolong that risk? It’s counter purpose, is it not? Unless you are trying to get me pregnant?”
His face lost all softness. He nodded soberly. “I assure you that is not my goal. Fret not, Miss Kittinger. I shall keep my distance from you.”
She stepped back, somewhat mollified, secretly hoping that she, too, could do the same.
Folding her hands in front of her, she glanced around the room and asked, “Well. Can I get you anything else, Mr. Masters?”
There was a knock at his door then. “Your valise, Mr. Masters.” Elsie entered the room, a welcome intrusion as she deposited the bag on the floor.
“Thank you, Elsie,” Mercy said.
With a nod, the girl departed.
Masters lifted his bag from the floor and carried it to the bed. “I am quite comfortable for the night. Good night, Miss Kittinger.”
“Good night.” She nodded briskly. “See you in the morning.” Turning, she departed his chamber and escaped to her own room.
Once in the safety of her chamber, she collapsed on her bed and pressed a hand over her racing heart. It had been racing this whole time—from the moment she had turned to find him before her in the orangery. If her heart did not slow to a normal rhythm soon it might burst in her chest. How could she exist in such a state for the duration of his stay? A fortnight at least! Her heart could not take it.
None of her could take it.
She might very well perish before he took his leave.
Chapter Eleven
By the time Silas descended the stairs the following morning and ventured to the dining room, he knew that the day was well underway in the Kittinger household.
The house was quiet. Birds chirped outside, and he marveled at that. He never heard birds in the city. They were there, he supposed, but amid all the other bustling sounds, he did not hear them.
When he entered the room, he found only Bede Kittinger at the table, slurping his coffee and eating from a plate full of eggs, sausages and potatoes.