Bleary-eyed and disoriented after only a few hours’ sleep, he blinked against the light that seeped in through the curtains and glanced at Deirdre, who was looking up at the ceiling as if she expected it to cave in on them. “What on earth?” she gasped. When the noise only seemed to increase in volume, she immediately lunged from the bed and hurried toward the door, scooping up her nightgown and shrugging into it as she went. Tristan paused only long enough to retrieve a pair of breeches from the back of an overstuffed chair and slide into them before joining her in the corridor. “I told you her ladyship is still asleep.” It was Mrs. Godfrey, her voice ringing with displeasure as it echoed in the foyer below. “She’s had a hard few days, she has, and I’m not about to disturb her this early for the likes of you. Now, on your way!” There was a loud yip from Sally, and the terrier’s paws could be heard scrabbling across the parquet floor before another voice piped up, sounding vaguely familiar.
