Read Online The Fall of Lord Drayson (Tanglewood Book 1) by Rachael Anderson - Free Book Online Page A

curling around her face, Collins found himself drawn to her like a wave drawn to land. He took another step nearer and caught a whiff of spring.
    “Forgive me,” he said again, quieter this time.
    She nodded, though her chest rose and fell rapidly, betraying that she was as affected as he by their closeness. The silence tightened around them, squeezing the air from the room. Collins couldn’t resist lifting his thumb to touch a smudge on her cheek, and as he did so, her breath caught.
    His eyes continued to hold hers. “I may not remember who I am or how I came to be here, Miss Beresford, but I am quite certain I am not a butler, a footman, or a coachman by trade. I feel no hesitancy in meeting your gaze, touching your cheek, or challenging your views.” His gaze drifted to her rosy lips.
    “Collins . . .” Her voice shook slightly and held a hint of warning, and his hand dropped to his side.
    “I forget myself yet again,” he said.
    “Yes.”
    Collins passed the broom from one hand to the other and nodded at her on his way out. In the foyer, he paused and looked back. “In what way might I be of service when Mrs. Bidding arrives? Other than answer the door and show her into the parlor, that is.”
    “Oh, I didn’t think—” Lucy looked surprised by his question, even discomfited. She hesitated a moment before saying, “I think I shall have Georgina answer the door this once. The stables are rather . . . untidy, and your services would be put to better use there.”
    “But I am a butler first and a coachman third, am I not?” said Collins. “I can attend to the stables later.”
    Miss Beresford approached him hesitantly, her hands clasped tightly in front of her. “If it were any other visitor, I might agree. But Mrs. Bidding can be a bit . . .”
    “Of a gossip?” he guessed.
    Her eyes shifted to the side as though the word was not the one she intended to use, and then she cleared her throat. “I was going to say a bit much to take.”
    “I am to assume that you do not wish her to know that you have acquired an addition to your staff—especially when that addition cannot recall his own name, let alone his past. She will have questions that neither you nor I can answer.”
    Lucy let out her breath, appearing relieved. “Precisely. I am glad we understand each other.”
    He nodded. “Very well. I shall go clean myself up a bit—but not too much as the stables are sure to wreak additional damage on my attire. Perhaps I should change into the ghastly pink shirt and . . . how did you put it? Speed up the process of ruination by rolling around in the muck.”
    Miss Beresford’s charming smile appeared, along with an adorable dimple on her right cheek. “Why on earth would you wish to ruin your favorite shirt?”
    “It is not my favorite shirt, Miss Beresford, which I am inclined to believe you already know. You seem to take great delight in teasing me.”
    “Perhaps,” was all she said, though her eyes sparkled with mirth.
    His lips lifted, and he could not help teasing her as well. “Have a care for what you sow, Miss Beresford. Your day of reaping is sure to come.”
    He had meant to elicit another laugh from her, but some of the sparkle disappeared from her eyes, replaced with a bit of guilt and a scrap of concern. How interesting. If only Collins could enter her mind and have a glimpse of her thoughts. He was sure he would find them most enlightening.
    “Good day, Miss Beresford,” he said.
    “Good day,” she responded in turn.
    Collins sensed her stare following him down the hall, and as he rounded the corner and disappeared from her view, he immediately felt her absence. He paused a moment to reflect on this and quickly came to the realization that although he was far more fond of horses and stables than chimney flues, he’d likely choose to clean the latter if it meant another afternoon spent in Miss Beresford’s company.
     

“Lucy, are you attending?” a brusque voice intruded.