Sleepless at Midnight (20 page)

Bloody hell.

How much longer until this endless dinner concluded?

“Well?” Matthew said to Daniel the instant the last guest departed the drawing room and they were finally alone.

“Well what?” Daniel asked, settling himself in Matthew’s favorite chair before the hearth and stretching out his legs.

Matthew tried to curb the impatience in his voice and failed. “You know what. How did your conversation with Miss Moorehouse go?”

“Very nicely. How did yours with Lady Julianne go?”

“Marvelously. What did you learn about Miss Moorehouse?”

“Lots of interesting things. Did you know that she has a talent for ”

“Sketching. Yes, I know. Tell me something I don’t already know.”

“Actually, I was going to say a talent for conversation. Real conversation. Not just because she is able to intelligently discuss an impressive array of subjects, but because she also listens. Intently. As if what you’re saying is of the utmost importance and interest to her.”

Matthew stood before the fireplace and leaned his shoulder against the marble mantel. An image of Miss Moorehouse as she’d appeared on the terrace earlier today flashed through his mind, her huge eyes fixed upon him, her head tilted as she carefully listened to his words. As if nothing mattered more than what he had to say. “Yes, I’ve noticed that about her. What else?”

“She is keenly observant. Notices small details about people and things. She asked me a number of questions about you.”

“What sort of questions?”

“Mostly about your absorption with gardening. She’s apparently quite the expert on the subject.”

“How did you respond?”

“I was vague, saying you enjoyed all things concerning the outdoors. She’s either romantically interested in you which I warned you might happen or she’s suspicious of you, having seen you carrying that shovel.”

The thought of Miss Moorehouse harboring romantic feelings for him absolutely should not have pulsed heat through him.

“Did you learn anything else?” Matthew asked.

“She enjoys cooking and baking, using ingredients from her own garden, which is, I gather, quite extensive. Did she tell you about the Dutton sisters?”

Matthew shook his head. “Who are they?”

“A pair of elderly sisters who live about an hour’s journey from Miss Moorehouse’s home. One sister is nearly blind and the other requires a cane to walk. Miss Moorehouse walks to the Duttons’

cottage every day, regardless of the weather, and brings them a basket of food she’s cooked herself.”

Matthew’s brows rose. “She told you this?”

“No. Her sister told me. She further told me Miss Moorehouse refuses to accept money from the Duttons. And that she often brings baked goods to several other families in the area, one in particular, a young woman named Martha Browne who was widowed six months ago. She already has three small children and is due to give birth to a fourth child in two months. According to Lady Wingate, Miss Moorehouse is a tremendous help to Mrs. Browne and beloved by her children.”

Matthew stared into the fire. While he hadn’t known these things, they certainly didn’t surprise him. He could easily picture Miss Moorehouse in the role of loving caregiver. Nor did it surprise him that the recipients of her generosity were people who were in some way broken.

“There is an air of…something about Miss Moorehouse,” Daniel said softly. “I don’t know quite what to call it. I’m certain comparisons between her and her beautiful sister have been common her entire life, a situation that would leave many women bitter. But instead, it seems to have bestowed in Miss Moorehouse a particular compassion toward people, especially those less fortunate.”

“Yes, I’ve noticed that about her as well.”

“I must say, it is a particularly attractive quality, and quite unusual amongst women of our social set. Perhaps it’s because she wasn’t born into our social set that she is so unique.”

Unique. Yes. That described her perfectly.

“She’s very matter-of-fact,” Daniel continued. “Outspoken, but not in an off-putting way, as Lady Gatesbourne is. I’m not ashamed to admit when I’m wrong, and I believe I was wrong about Miss Moorehouse. Not only did I not discover any deep dark secrets, I tend to doubt she has any. Indeed, she’s quite the breath of fresh air. I see why you find her so interesting. Indeed, I find her so myself.”

Matthew wished that he could call the feeling jolting through him anything other than jealousy, but there simply was no other name for it. He actually had to clench his teeth to keep from saying the two words that rushed into his throat.

She’s mine.

He shook his head and frowned. Ridiculous. Damn it, what was wrong with him? She wasn’t his. He didn’t want her.

Yet the instant that last thought entered his mind, he rejected it. Because as much as he didn’t want to want her, by God there was no denying that he did want her. With an intensity that stunned him. Which was inconvenient in the extreme, as he couldn’t have her. She was not the woman he needed to focus on. He needed, badly, to focus on Lady Julianne Miss Moorehouse’s good friend.

Bloody hell.

Daniel folded his hands over his stomach and looked up at him from his slouched position. “Jennsen clearly thinks she’s a breath of fresh air as well.”

Matthew’s hands clenched. “Yes, I noticed.”

Daniel nodded. “I assumed you did, since you kept looking down toward my end of the table.”

“To see how you were doing with Miss Moorehouse. I noticed you spent a good deal of time speaking with Lady Wingate.”

“She was an excellent source of information regarding her sister. Besides, I’m not one to ignore a beautiful woman, especially one who’s sitting right next to me.” His gaze probed Matthew’s. “About Miss Moorehouse based on the way she was looking at you when she thought I wasn’t looking at her, she is…infatuated. Paying further attention to her will only serve to falsely raise her hopes.”

Matthew frowned. Part of him knew Daniel was correct that paying further attention to Miss Moorehouse was an exercise in futility. Yet the thought of not doing so made him feel as if a weight rested upon his chest.

“You could break her heart, Matthew,” Daniel said quietly. “Surely you don’t wish to do that.”

“No.” Daniel was right. This…attraction or whatever it was he felt for her had to be forgotten.

“Good. Now tell me, how went your conversation with Lady Julianne?”

He ruthlessly shoved the image of Miss Moorehouse from his mind. “Fine. She is lovely, demure, sweet-natured, and loves animals.”

“And is an heiress,” Daniel reminded him. “She sounds perfect.”

“Indeed she does.”

“You won’t want to fanny around in pursuing her in earnest. Did you see the way Berwick was looking at her? The man is smitten.”

Yes, he’d noticed. And hadn’t cared a jot. Wasn’t touched by even the slightest twinge of jealousy.

“Even though Thurston and Hartley lavished their attentions on Lady Emily tonight, I’d wager to say that they are smitten with Lady Julianne as well,” Daniel continued. Matthew stared into the fire and tried, truly tried, to dredge up even a tiny flicker of jealousy at the thought of another man courting Lady Julianne.

And found nothing.

Then the image of Miss Moorehouse he’d only a moment ago managed to push from his mind returned. But this time he imagined her smiling across the table at Logan Jennsen…then that bastard Jennsen pulling her into his arms and kissing her. And it felt as if a red haze dulled his vision.

With an exclamation of disgust, he pushed away from the mantel and dragged his hands down his face. Then he strode toward the door. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Where are you going?” Daniel asked.

“To change my clothes then go dig some holes. Pray that I find what I’m looking for.”

“I wish you luck. Would you like some company?”

Matthew halted, turned, then cocked a brow at his always perfectly turned out friend. “You’d be willing to dig holes?”

“I’d prefer not to. But I’d gladly stand watch while you do. There’s a killer wandering about, you know.”

“I know. And I thank you for the offer, but I’d prefer that you get some sleep. That way you can act as host tomorrow afternoon, thus allowing me several hours to continue my search during the day. Besides, we agreed that Tom’s murder might not have anything to do with me. And even if it does, we also agreed that I’m most likely safe until, or unless, I find what I’m looking for.”

“‘Most likely safe’ doesn’t sound all that promising, Matthew. And what if you actually find it?”

“I’ll hardly jump about like a jackanapes and announce it at the top of my lungs. I’ll be armed. And accompanied by Danforth, who has better eyesight and hearing and a superior sense of smell than you no offense intended.”

“No offense taken. And I’ll be happy to take over your hosting duties. I’m not the least opposed to spending my time with a bevy of beautiful young women.”

“Excellent.” He resumed his walk to the door.

“Matthew…you realize this search is almost for a certainty a waste of time?”

He paused, then nodded. “I know. But I have to try.”

“Well then, be careful, my friend.”

Matthew quit the room, closing the door behind him, then headed for the stairs, feeling completely out of sorts, and it was all her fault. This digging of the holes would be good for him tonight. Yes, he’d dig lots and lots of holes that would, like their countless predecessors, yield nothing. He’d dig until he was exhausted and couldn’t think anymore. Until he was too tired to want that which he couldn’t have.

Miss Sarah Moorehouse.

Damn it, he suspected he was going to need to dig a lot of holes to accomplish that particular feat. When he reached the top of the stairs, he noted the procession of servants carrying steaming buckets of water. One of his guests had clearly ordered a bath. A fissure of envy snaked through him. A hot soak certainly sounded much better than hole digging. Perhaps he’d order one for himself when he returned.

He was about to turn in the direction of his bedchamber when the servants halted and the one in the lead knocked. On the door to the bedchamber belonging to

“Miss Moorehouse? Yer bath-water’s arrived.”

Matthew quickly ducked into the small alcove and remained out of sight until the last of the servants had disappeared into the bedchamber. When the corridor was again empty, he quickly headed toward his own chamber, a smile tugging at his lips.

His digging would have to be postponed for a while.

Right now he was much more interested in a bath.

Chapter 10

Wearing only her loosely knotted robe, Sarah added several drops of lavender oil to the steaming water in the copper tub set up before the fireplace in her bedchamber. She dipped her fingers beneath the surface and slowly stirred, noting that the hot water would need to cool a bit before she entered. But that was fine. She had plenty to keep her occupied. Turning, she stared at the man sitting across from her on the settee. The dim light from the low burning fire cast him in intriguing shadows, and her pulse quickened just gazing upon him. Her avid gaze moved over him, taking in broad shoulders covered in a snowy linen shirt, loosely tied cravat, black breeches and boots. He remained utterly still, utterly silent, as if waiting to obey her every command. A smile curved her lips.

Franklin N. Stein was indeed the Perfect Man.

Well, except for the fact that his right leg was somewhat fatter than his left. But that was only because they’d run out of stuffing. Of course, they wouldn’t have run out of stuffing if they hadn’t, amidst much giggling, overly gifted Franklin in other areas of his breeches in a manner that surely wasn’t anatomically possible.

And there was the slight problem of him not having any hands. And the slightly larger problem of him not having a head.

Sarah frowned at the headless yet extremely well endowed Franklin. No, that simply wouldn’t do. Carolyn, Emily, and Julianne had departed her bedchamber after helping her stuff and assemble Franklin, and she’d hidden him in the wardrobe while the tub was being filled. But she’d dragged him out again after the servants departed. She simply couldn’t enjoy her bath then go to bed and leave their creation in such a deplorable condition.

Crossing to the wardrobe, she pulled out her oldest night rail. Then she moved to the bed and stripped the white pillowcase from one of the pillows. After stuffing her night rail into the linen case, she formed the bundle into a round shape. She then set the makeshift head between Franklin’s broad shoulders. Stepping back, she examined her handiwork. A bit lumpy, but definitely an improvement. Except now he had no neck. Of course, that had to be better than not having a head. But now that he had a head, he really needed a face. And instantly a face the perfect face materialized in her mind. Intelligent hazel eyes. Chiseled features. Firm, full lips that didn’t smile nearly enough, but when they did smile…

Oh, my.

Her heart stuttered as she recalled how Lord Langston had smiled at her across the dinner table. In spite of the fact that she’d sat next to the very charming Lord Surbrooke and across from the very entertaining Mr. Jennsen, part of her had remained preoccupied with Lord Langston. Who’d spent the long meal conversing with Julianne. Julianne, who had looked absolutely stunning. Sarah closed her eyes and tried to fight back the unwanted feeling that had pressed on her all evening, but she could no longer do so. Jealousy flooded her, and with a groan she buried her face in her hands.