leave Miss Moran to me.”
Royal said nothing, but his jaw clenched so hard it hurt. He had no claim on Lily Moran and never would. If Sheridan wanted her—to hell with Sherry, he thought for no explicable reason, and started for the door.
“I thought we were going for a ride,” he said darkly,pausing in the entry to allow Greaves to drape his cloak round his shoulders.
Sheridan still gazed up the stairs. “Of a sudden, I would rather stay here.”
Royal ground his jaw, jerked open the door and strode out into the falling snow. Behind him, he heard Sheridan chuckle then the sound of his boots coming down the wide stone stairs.
The following day at the end of an afternoon ride to check on one of his tenants, Royal returned to the house, his stomach pleasantly filled with the mutton stew and tankard of ale he had enjoyed at the Boar and Thistle Tavern in the village. Handing his cloak to Greaves, he looked up at the sound of a commotion going on in the corridor upstairs. Recognizing the sweetly feminine voice of his houseguest, he climbed the staircase and headed down the hall to find Lily, a pair of footmen and two chambermaids rearranging the furniture in one of the bedrooms.
She looked up at his appearance and a hint of color washed into her cheeks. Her silvery hair was tied back with a kerchief and she wore an apron over her dress. Still, she looked beautiful.
“I—I hope you don’t mind, Your Grace. I moved my things into one of the other bedrooms. I thought Jocelyn should have the one that was meant to be hers.”
He didn’t say that he liked having Lily in the room adjoining his, where he could imagine her lying on the big bed in nothing but a soft white cotton nightgown, embroidered, perhaps, with tiny roses. He didn’t say that last night he had imagined unbuttoning the row ofpearl buttons at her throat and nibbling his way down to her breasts.
Instead he said, “As you wish.”
“Also…your housekeeper, Mrs. McBride, suggested a very nice room for Mrs. Caulfield that also overlooks the garden. If you don’t mind…I’d…um…like to exchange a few pieces of furniture with those from one of the other bedrooms.”
Meaning the furniture in the room was worn or in need of repair. He knew Mrs. McBride had done her best, but until the house was refurbished, it would never exhibit the grandeur of the place he had lived in as a boy.
“As I said, you are free to make whatever changes you wish.”
“Thank you, Your Grace.” She returned to her task, ordering the servants about and pitching in herself to help with whatever needed to be done. It was clear she took her duties seriously, but Royal thought it a little unfair that the Caulfields should treat her more like an employee than a member of the family.
One of the footmen reappeared, carrying an ornate writing desk Lily had procured from a room on the opposite side of the hall. She directed the man where to place it in the room, then, realizing Royal still stood in the corridor watching her activities, a nervous smile appeared.
“Mrs. Caulfield will enjoy the desk,” she explained. “She likes to keep in touch with her friends.”
“It’s a beautiful piece of furniture. I’m a little amazed it’s still here.”
She seemed surprised he would allude to his poor financial straits. “Yes…from the looks of it, a good deal of the original furnishings are missing.”
“After my father fell ill, his finances took a turn for the worse. It was his greatest wish to see the house brought back to its earlier magnificence.”
“Jocelyn seems eager to help in that regard.”
“That would certainly please my father, God rest his soul.”
“Would it also please you?”
His lips edged up. “I love this place. It bothers me to see it in such disrepair.”
She glanced down the long corridor, the paint yellowed and the wallpaper peeling in places, the rugs faded and worn. “It must have been beautiful. I’m sure it will be again.”