“Finally,” I said as he bundled me inside the door. “We’re alone together, just you and me and a bed. What’s taken you so long, Darcy? I’ve been waiting for this a long time.” I kept talking while he pulled off my various outer garments and then sat me down to take off my shoes. “Do you know how boring it is to be a virgin?” I went on. “Boring, boring, boring. Everybody thinks virgins are boring. And do you know what? They are.”

Darcy undid the leather strap that held my kilt in place and it dropped to the floor.

“Arms up,” he said and yanked my sweater over my head. “There. You’ll do until your maid can finish undressing you. I’ll bring you up a tray from supper. You should eat something if you can. And a cup of black coffee.”

“Where are you going?” I asked plaintively.

“Down to tell them that Lady Georgiana is not feeling well.”

“You’re not going to leave me alone, are you? Not when there’s this big and beautiful bed and I’m in it all by myself. And you are such a good kisser too.”

Darcy smiled and leaned to kiss my forehead. “As tempting as this offer is, my lady, I’m going to wait until you’ll remember what you’ve done. In spite of what your sister-in-law thinks, I happen to be a gentleman.”

“Oh, Fig. Don’t talk about Fig. If I am boring, then she is boring times ten. The most boring person on the whole Earth. I bet she never invited a young man to her bedroom. Never never.”

Darcy looked down at me with a mixture of amusement and concern. “Now, you’re to stay put and try to sleep. I’ll find your maid and have her come to keep an eye on you. And I’ll bring you something to eat later. All right?”

“I wish you weren’t going away,” I said in a small voice. “I’d rather fall asleep with your arms around me. So nice. So warm. So safe . . .” I closed my eyes. When I opened them again, he had gone.

I lay back, half dozing, half awake, until I heard the click of the door latch and a shaft of light came from the hallway outside. This was rapidly extinguished as the door closed again and I sensed someone coming toward the bed.

“Is it suppertime already?” I asked sleepily.

“Supper is over,” said a deep voice. “They’re all having coffee, so I thought I’d slip up and see how you were faring.”

And someone sat on my bed. I fumbled for my bedside light. In its rosy glow Johnnie Protheroe’s face loomed close to me.

“What are you doing in my room?” I demanded, fear giving me control of my tongue.