Something in his eyes changed in that moment. Something that led her to believe that he may be something different than the drunken fellow she’d taken him for at first. He might be a guest at the inn, but since she hadn’t met many people since coming here, she wouldn’t recognize him even if he was one of the local townsmen. He’d grown serious though and no longer looked uncaring and crazed.
He nodded and after a bit of fumbling, grunting, and pulling, she managed to assist him to his feet.
“Where?” He mumbled as he leaned on her heavily. She bit her lip. If he was a guest of the inn, wouldn’t he have said so?
“This way,” she said, making her decision. He might not belong at the inn and besides that, she’d rather not present herself to a room full of strangers while wearing only her coat and scarf and boots along with her night rail.
It seemed to take forever, almost as though they took two steps backward for every one step forward and when they finally reached the door to her aunt’s house, she felt limp with relief.
When she pushed it open, she was grateful to see Mr. Clark standing there awaiting her, dressed in his coat and boots but with a stockinged cap on his head. “I saw you out my window. I was coming out to help you, my lady.”
He got on the other side of her gentleman patient and shouldered most of the weight. Getting him across the square had drained her off all warmth and energy. “Go back to bed now. I’ll take care of him.” He urged her. Her shoulders hunched in relief.
Noelle didn’t really want to relinquish her position but as she stepped back, she nearly toppled over, her knees weak. Despite her urge to continue to care for the man, allowing Mr. Clark to take over was probably for the best.
“You won’t let him die? He seems to be a decent sort of gentleman.” She flicked her gaze to the man whose life she’d just saved and grimaced. “Despite his current condition.”
“I will not allow him to die, Lady Noelle. But you must go back to bed. If anyone outside this house asks, it was I who brought him in. Do you understand?”
She nodded, grateful for his help both in bringing the man inside and protecting her reputation. “Of course. Thank you.”
With one last look, Noelle released her hold on the handsome wretch and then scurried up the stairs.
Oh, my. Kissable, indeed!
Chapter Two
Dash woke to the sound of people milling about. Where the hell was he? He scrubbed his face, searching his memory. Snow, an inn, ale, more snow, more ale. Christ…had he gone out into the storm? He pried open his lids and lifted the covers. By God, he was naked.
He dropped the covers back into place, trying to remember when exactly he’d undressed. His head pounded and his stomach lurched as he licked his parched lips. Did they taste faintly of gingerbread?
The vaguest sort of memory flitted through his thoughts. A snow angel with creamy skin and lush pink lips that bestowed kisses to men trapped in snowbanks. She’d had dark hair and…he paused, looking about the room.
Was there a lace canopy over his head? The coverlet he’d lifted moments before was pale pink with matching drapes. Dear lord, he looked to the side. The pillow under his head was embroidered. No public inn had ever, in the history of England, been so frilly.
The door opened and a tall man entered carrying a tray with hands encased in pristine white gloves. Dash noted the tray gleamed a polished silver before he spotted the pot of steaming tea and crackers on its surface. He nearly cried with relief.
Until a giggle sounded from behind the man. “Oh my,” a feminine voice called from behind. “Can you see him, Noelle? Is he—”
A different female voice finished. “Handsome?”
“Stop, both of you, I beg you,” a third female replied.
He saw a woman with flaming red hair look over the top of the butler’s shoulder. “Stop? This is the most interesting thing that’s happened to us in ages.”
Another blonde-haired minx peeked around the side of the man. “Interesting isn’t the proper word. I’d say it was—”
“Ladies,” the man in the doorway called out sharply. “Please give our guest some privacy.”
They giggled and scurried off at the same time a dark dread filled Dash’s stomach. He was naked in a woman’s house. Please let her be a widow, or married, or old. But memories of the night before sharpened. Dark hair paired with green eyes and sweet lips. If she were a maiden…
The man closed the door behind him. “You may address me as Mr. Clark and I am the butler of the house. You are the guest of Lady Winifred Tannenbaum. Those women are her nieces, one of whom saved your life last night.”
Feck. Saved by the niece. She was an unmarried woman for certain. “How fortunate for me.” Hopefully the man did not note the sarcasm dripping from those words. He’d rather die than be married. Which was ridiculous. As a duke, he’d have to enter the dreaded state of matrimony eventually, but he rather looked at the event like one might consider one’s own funeral. An ironic chuckle escaped his lips. Sure, there would be a party but he’d be as good as dead so what did he care?
The butler cleared his throat, pouring steaming tea into a delicate cup of fine porcelain. “It was me who brought you upstairs and took off your wet clothing. They are hanging just there.” The man set down the cup and reached out a gloved hand to carefully arrange the items on the bedside table. “Lady Noelle, however, was the person who saw you land in the snow and came out to rescue you.”
Feck. Feck. She was a lady even. There’d be no avoiding the noose now. His parents had taught him early on that matrimony was a state to avoid at all costs. “I’ll have to thank her for her efforts.” Dash took his first sip of tea. The hot liquid soothed his throat and almost instantly diminished the ache in his head.
“That won’t be necessary.” Clark leaned forward, staring down at Dash, his brows drawing together. “In fact, you need never acknowledge that you met Lady Noelle at all.”
Dash took another sip of his tea trying to swallow the irritation that had risen up in his throat. “You don’t want her associated with me?” Mamas from all over England had spent the better part of the last decade attempting to throw their daughters across his path. Of course, this man didn’t know he was speaking to the Duke of Dashlington and Dash ought to be grateful. He didn’t want to marry, for feck’s sake. But the very idea that this butler was attempting to intimidate him into silence was galling. “I see.”
Clark straightened. “Very good. Lady Noelle is lovely and will do well on the marriage market once her father sees fit—” The man stopped. “Your gift to her to repay her kindness can be your silence.” Pressing one hand to his stomach and one to his back, the man gave a short bow. “Once you’ve eaten, please dress and leave.”
Dash took another swallow of his tea. “Don’t you even want to know who I am first?” He couldn’t leave well enough alone. He’d done far worse than swallow his pride in order to avoid wedded hell. Surely, he could stand a bit of guff from a butler. But then again, he wanted to see his little snow fairy, find out why she tasted like gingerbread, and what had possessed her to venture into a blizzard in order to rescue him.