The warmth of the blankets bordered on stifling. She wriggled, then realized the garment she wore wasn't her gown. “What am I wearing?”
The flash of gray flannel she’d seen before swooning came to mind. Her cheeks warmed again. Someone had removed her gown, then dressed her in the nightgown she now wore. Phoebe glanced from the highwayman to Mather, then fastened her gaze back onto the highwayman. There was no question which of the two men would have undertaken the task of undressing her. The culprit straightened, apparently finished with making her a veritable prisoner beneath the blankets.
“Perhaps you should take yourself off for a rest.” Phoebe said, gritting her teeth as much against the throbbing in her head as to control her rising temper.
He gave her a quizzical look.
“Sir.” Mather stepped forward.
“Mather,” the brigand said without looking at him, “I'll stay.” He glanced over his shoulder at the window where soft light had begun to filter into the room. “Mrs. Grayson may already be about. If she isn’t, please wake her and inform her Miss Ballingham requires tea and some of those cakes I know she prepared yesterday.”
“I thought you said I was too fat and shouldn't eat more cakes,” Phoebe said.
“I said nothing of the kind.”
“You most certainly did,” she replied. “You said the carriage nearly tipped over when I jumped from it.”
He bent, placed a hand on each side of her and leaned in close to her face. “I didn't say the carriage nearly tipped over. I do say, however, let both those incidents be a lesson.”
“Lesson?”
“Yes. Not to repeat such addlepated actions in the future. Mather,” he straightened, “see to Mrs. Grayson.”
“Aye, sir.” Mather left.
Phoebe, covered to the chin, wriggled beneath the blankets. “It's intolerably hot under here.” She squirmed more. “And I can't do without that chamber pot much longer.”
“Had you continued sleeping, you could have done without it.”
“What do you think woke me?”
The corner of his mouth twitched. “I'll help you with the pot, Heddy.”
“You will not.”
“But I will.” He fetched the pot and returned to the bed.
She eyed the pot, then him. “I can manage.”
“As you did a moment ago?”
“Mrs. Grayson, then.”
His demeanor turned thoughtful. “Mrs. Grayson is a stout woman. Still…perhaps another maid might assist her.”
“Slip the pot under the blanket.”
“If you miscalculate—"
The door opened and an older woman entered, tray in hand, followed by Mather.
“Just as you said,” Mather said. “She was already bustling about the kitchen.”
Mrs. Grayson set the tray on the nightstand. At sight of the tea and cakes on the tray Phoebe’s stomach growled.
“Of course I was,” the housekeeper said with an indignant sniff. “It is nearly five in the morning.”
“Good morning, Bridgett,” the highwayman said.
“Morning,” the woman replied as she slipped an arm beneath Phoebe’s back and gently lifted her away from the pillows.
The covers fell forward. Phoebe grabbed for them, but Mrs. Grayson had propped the pillows against the headboard and was easing Phoebe back against them before she could grasp the blanket. The housekeeper urged her arms out of the way, then twitched the blanket up over her breasts.
“There, now, dearie.” Mrs. Grayson plucked a folded napkin from the tray and gave it a smart shake before placing it on Phoebe’s lap. “Are you hungry?”
“That's not all,” Phoebe said.
Mrs. Grayson gave her an inquiring look, but the brigand said, "Miss Ballingham requires assistance.” He lifted the chamber pot for all to see.
Use of the chamber pot, along with hot tea and cakes, revived Phoebe. She set her cup of tea on the tray and glanced at the armoire where Mrs. Grayson said her cloak hung. Any hope of discovering if her reticule was there with the cloak was dashed by the presence of her highwayman. Phoebe studied the scoundrel. He rested, once again, eyes closed, head reclining on the high back of the chair.
“I didn't think to ask your name,” she murmured.
“Kiernan MacGregor, at your service." The sound of his voice startled her. He opened his eyes and sat up. “How's your head?”
“Better.”
“That was a foolish move, Heddy.”
Phoebe opened her mouth, but the intensity in his gaze stopped the retort. She took a deep breath. “I did it because I wish to avoid the scandal of being away for days with a strange man.”
Surprise melted into a cool look. “A man you know will do, though?”
Her response was forestalled by a knock at the door.
“Come in,” Kiernan instructed.
The door opened and Mather stepped inside. “Dr. Connor here to see the lady, sir.” Mather stepped aside and a small, gray haired man entered the room.