perfectly right. Relieved by her daughter’s return, Mama had not noticed the unfamiliar dressing gown, and as soon as Bianca was alone, she, with the help of the maid who owed her a favor for tattling about that first visit to Mathew, had changed out of it and stowed the clothes in her closet to be returned later.
Mama, feeling terrible about how she had acted, was finally humble enough to listen to Bianca’s feelings about Lord Strapshire and marriage in general. “I will make my own choice,” Bianca had said, and her mother, though she looked as though she still wanted to make some argument, had agreed. It helped that Lord Strapshire had disappeared the morning after the storm, just as he promised he would.
There was a knock at the door, and Mama exchanged a look with Bianca as she rose to her feet. Mama was humbled, but not all together unchanged in her need to manage the details of both their lives. She would intercept the note or visitor before Bianca caught sight of them, as she had done these past two days.
Bianca turned back to the book in her hands and tried to reread the page she had already read at least three times. She struggled to concentrate but thoughts of Mathew kept overriding everything else in her head. Perhaps it was the warm thoughts of him that were responsible for her recovery. His kiss in the kitchen had not been part of the game nor had protecting her reputation by helping her present herself decently. The thought that his affection might be real filled her with a tingly heat that made her eager to see him again, yet when that would be she could only guess. Mama had forbidden visitors for at least a week, wanting to give Bianca adequate time to recover and to allow the gossip of her escapade to settle.
Bianca had chosen, this time, not to argue.
“Bianca.”
She looked up at her mother’s voice, but froze when she saw who stood behind her. She attempted to stand but forgot that Mama had tucked blankets around her feet. She stumbled forward only to be caught by a pair of strong arms that lifted her to her feet and did not let go. She looked into Mathew’s face, and her fingers curled around the fabric of his sleeves.
“Are you all right?” he asked her, just as he had after saving her from Lord Strapshire.
“I am now,” she said.
He smiled.
She smiled back.
Mama cleared her throat.
“I shall order some tea and join you shortly. There is . . . something I must attend to.”
Bianca didn’t even watch her mother leave, she was too entranced by the fact that Mathew was holding her up. He stepped back and helped her to sit down again, unwinding the blanket from her feet and draping it over the arm of the couch.
“I wanted to come sooner,” he said at the same time that she said, “I’ve been hoping you would come.”
They both laughed, and she waved for him to speak first. “I came by the next day, but your mother refused all visitors. She even turned the vicar away.”
Bianca shook her head. “And she dares criticize my behavior?”
Mathew laughed. “And then my parents returned the next day—a few days earlier than I expected. I had a great deal to tell them about what had happened while they were gone.”
He waved toward his face, and she noticed the lingering bruises for the first time. An ugly green color ringed both eyes, and yet somehow it did not affect how very handsome he was.
“I hope you told them the version that does not make me look like a complete ninny.”
“Oh, no, I told them the ninny version. They found it very diverting.”
She raised her eyebrows. “You are joking!”
He shook his head, grinning wickedly. “I had to explain Mama’s missing dressing gown, and if I hadn’t told her what had happened, the servants would have. But do not worry. They are good, steady people. You’ll like them.”
Bianca blinked. “I’ll . . . like them?” She already knew them, of course, and liked them well enough despite the distance she always
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