![]() She and her husband rarely slept separately. What on earth was Viscount Darlington doing at her mistress’ door looking like this? Not that Penelope could be found inside. Wake Danbury for me? Or Pen? You’re Pen’s maid, aren’t you? Rosie something or other? Rosebud? Rosalie? Doubt settled in his gaze when she didn’t answer. ![]() His disheveled state was nearly as extraordinary as his visit. Holding her candle higher, she confirmed that it was, indeed, Viscount Darlington, one of England’s most proper gentlemen, dressed in formal evening wear, but quite bedraggled and swaying slightly. Only, in truth, this was her mistress Penelope’s chamber, not Rose’s. Not that she expected anyone to come knocking at her door in the middle of the night. The gentleman standing in the darkened corridor outside her bedchamber was the last person in the world she’d expected. L ord Darlington? Rose blinked in surprise as she opened the door, wondering if her eyes deceived her. ![]()
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