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with some heinous crime.
    “Oh, and you’d only speak the truth, wouldn’t you?”
    “Of course.”
    “Mmmhmm.” He ran the pad of his thumb over the side of her delicate wrist, noting just how cold her skin was. “What was that you said about not being offered a bedchamber?”
    She covered her eyes and forehead with her free hand. “Please forget I said that. I didn’t mean—”
    Gareth cut off her words by placing a single finger over her lips. “Your penchant is for always telling the truth—no matter what. My greatest talent in this life is for having an incredible memory—”
    “Except when it comes to remembering how many house guests you’ll be hosting,” she said against his finger.
    Gareth chuckled at the way she squeezed her eyes shut, presumably due to the embarrassment of speaking so plainly to him yet again. “I admit that was a rare lapse,” he allowed with a smile. “But, try as I might I shan’t forget anything you’ve said.”
    As soon as he said it, he wished he hadn’t. He might find her beautiful to look at and he might even be intrigued more than he ought to be by her quick tongue, but that was as far as it went. The last thing he wanted to do was encourage her to think he’d be good husband material—for either Charlotte… or her. She was Holbrook’s sister, he reminded himself once again.
    Releasing her hand as if it suddenly had burned him, he straightened to his full height. “I’m sorry my staff were negligent in assigning you a proper bedchamber. I’ll ring for one near your sister to be made ready immediately.” Why that hadn’t happened when she arrived he hadn’t an inclination, but he’d address it with Potter and Mrs. Boyles immediately.
    “Please don’t.” Her words were so soft he almost didn’t hear them through his own thoughts.
    “Pardon?”
    Jane clenched her blanket against her chest. “I don’t like being carried upstairs.”
    All the blood in Gareth’s body drained straight to his toes. How could he have been so obtuse? It all made sense now why Potter had asked where he wanted Miss Cavanaugh put. Not understanding the situation fully, he’d been flippant in his answer.
    “I’m sorry,” he choked. “I didn’t realize…” Heat crept up his face. “I’ll be right back.”
    Without giving her a chance to question him, he ran to the door and tugged the bell pull.
    “When Potter comes I’ll have him order the footmen to have a proper bedchamber made ready for you downstairs,” he assured her, bending down to add more logs to fire. It would take a while before she could be moved to her new room and there was no reason for her to be cold while she waited.
    “There’s no need.”
    Gareth set down the fire poker and took a seat on the floor by her side. “Oh, yes, there is a need. This room is not suitable for a young lady’s bedchamber.”
    Panic and something he couldn’t place flickered in her eyes. “It’s quite adequate, I assure you.”
    He snorted. “Says the young lady whose teeth were chattering so hard they woke her host.”
    “They were not.”
    He pinned her with a look. “I do not embellish.”
    A little peel of unbridled laughter escaped her lips. “Just send for my maid and have her stoke the fire.”
    Gareth snorted again. “I’ll do no such thing. You’ll be moving rooms.” He racked his brain to think of a room that’d be smaller and easier to convert into a bedchamber for the duration of her stay. “The library will be far more comfortable.”
    “As grand as it sounds to be afforded so many choices to amuse myself when insomnia sets in, I’d rather stay here.”
    “You have insomnia?”
    Jane twisted her lips. “Sometimes.”
    “How do you cure it?” She’d only said when it “sets in,” giving him hope there was a cure.
    “Study the ceiling.”
    A fist clenched in his gut. Was it possible for him to be anymore oblivious to her needs? “I’m sorry,” he breathed.
    “Don’t be.” The