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Authors: MAGGI ANDERSEN

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BOOK: At the Earl's Convenience
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“I’m well aware of the tenants’ needs,” he said gruffly. “Did you come straight here from the inn in Reading?”

“You gave me little choice,” she said dryly. “Either that or go back to Bath humiliated.”

“Not your fault, Selina.” He shivered.

Startled, she noticed how pale he was. She put a hand up to touch him, and then, uncertain of her welcome, she dropped her arm. “You are ill!”

“The cursed influenza. I just need to rest.”

She still hesitated, wanting to take his arm but resisting. He looked so distant; there was a wall between them. She didn’t understand why, but she was determined to learn the truth, even if it hurt her. “You must come inside out of the cold.”

She turned to Joseph, who awaited instructions. “Give his lordship’s portmanteau to Frobisher and take Firefly to the stables. Make sure he’s rubbed down and watered. But don’t dally there, Joseph. Return to the house. I have need of you.”

She walked with Devereux to the door, where Frobisher stood waiting.

He patted the butler on the arm. “How are you, old fellow?”

Frobisher’s face filled with joy. “Good to see you, my lord.”

“There’s a fire in the library,” Selina said. “I’ll have coffee brought and food. You must be hungry. Cook has made a splendid mutton pie. Do you fancy it?”

“I’m not hungry, thank you.” It was as if this was her house and he a guest in it. She wondered if he resented it.

When they entered the library smelling of old tomes and beeswax, his tense expression faded. “This is my favorite room, too.”

Devereux collapsed into a leather chair by the fire. Leaning back exhausted, he rested his boots on a leather ottoman. She bit her lip at the ridge of high-color on his cheeks, made obvious by his pallor. Her unreliable heart turned over with anguish. He was far sicker than she’d first thought.

Selina gave up on her determination not to touch him. She rested her hand against his brow, finding it burning. “You must go straight to bed,” she said, alarmed. “I have your bedchamber prepared.”

“Not the marriage bed then, Lady Halcrow?” His savage laugh turned into a cough.

Selina pulled the bell cord. A minute later, the butler appeared. “Send Joseph for the doctor. Joseph must be sure to tell the doctor his lordship is very ill.”

“Very good, my lady.”

“And send Mrs. Lark to me, Frobisher.”

Moments later, the housekeeper entered the room, and Selina introduced her.

“Welcome to Halcrow Hall, Mrs. Lark,” Devereux said.

Mrs. Lark curtsied in her neat black gown. “A pleasure to be here, my lord.”

“Have the bed in the blue suite made with fresh sheets and a bed warmer, if you please, Mrs. Lark, and the fire lit,” Selina said. “Ask Cook to make beef tea.”

“I’ll not drink any of that foul stuff,” Devereux muttered. “Bring me a brandy.”

“Does your throat hurt?” she asked, ignoring his bad temper.

“A little,” he said gruffly.

“My mother had a good remedy for sore throats,” Selina said briskly. “Mrs. Lark, Cook is to steep horseradish in a gill of vinegar and add a gill of honey. I’ll have his lordship take a teaspoon every twenty minutes.”

“Are you trying to poison me, madam?”

“And for his lordship’s cough, Mrs. Lark,” Selina continued, “we shall need sliced lemon mixed with a half-pint of flaxseed and two ounces of honey, added to one quart of water. Cook must simmer the mixture for several hours and then strain it.”

Mrs. Lark hurried from the room.

Selina turned to find Devereux slumped in his chair watching her.

“Good God, I’ll not take that,” he said. “You’ll have to tie me down.”

“No brandy.”

He widened his eyes. “You are refusing me?”

“For the time being.”

“What gave you such conviction, Selina?” he asked with a lift of his brows. “Was it your father? Were you his pet? I can imagine you as a child, ordering everyone about in your ebony plaits.”

“I declare you are color-blind, my lord.”

He grinned. “See? Resolute, right down to your toes.” His gaze roamed down her body, making her unsure what point he was making.

“Shall I call the footman to help you to bed?”

“That won’t be necessary, thank you,” he said with quiet dignity, climbing sluggishly to his feet. He stumbled and grasped her arm to gain his balance. “You may bring the decanter of brandy to my bedchamber. I know what best suits me.”

“I admit I am yet to learn it,” she said. “I’ve had so little time.”

“No need to rub my nose in it, Selina,” he said as they climbed the stairs. “You shouldn’t attack a fellow when he’s low.”

“I apologize.”

“Then you’ll bring me brandy?”

“No.”

“I’ll ring for the footman to bring it.”

“It won’t do you any good, Devereux; I shall instruct them all to ignore you. It is for your own good you know.”

“Brandy is good for ailments.”

“Yes, but not this one.”

She was aware at how desperately ill he must feel when he panted and subsided into a grim silence as they made their way slowly up the stairs.

“Good thing there aren’t women in the army,” he muttered as they entered the blue bedchamber. The freshly distempered walls, new royal-blue, and gold silk drapes and bed curtains lent the room an elegant air. He held the bedpost and gazed around. “You
have
been busy.”

Was that vulnerability in his eyes? He’d always seemed invincible. Some of his class was brought up with very little affection. Sent off to school when barely out of babyhood. She would not do that to her sons. They wouldn’t be taught to hide their emotions beneath bluster and bravado. His vulnerability had defused her anger and resentment as she’d taken charge.

Selina folded back the bed cover, checked the sheets for damp and that the bed warmer was in place. Devereux toppled onto the bed with a groan and propped himself up on his elbows, his breathing labored.

“As you have no manservant, I’ll send Frobisher to help you undress.”

He caught her arm. “No. You do it, Selina.”

Chapter Eight

Selina fought the pull of attraction as she unraveled Devereux’s cravat and helped him out of his coat then his waistcoat. She placed his watch and fobs on the bureau. Returning, she pulled his shirt over his head, tamping down a desire to run her hands over him. There was a sprinkling of dusky hair on the sculptured planes of his chest. Would it feel rough or soft beneath her fingers? His light olive skin had recently seen the sun in warmer climes. His belly was flat and ridged with muscle, and a line of hair disappeared into his breeches. He rolled to his side to allow her to free the sheets and blankets beneath him.

Selina cried out. Deep purple bruises, turning almost black, covered his sides and back. “You’ve been hurt. What caused this?”

“Never mind,” he said roughly. “It’s the reason I asked you to help me. This remains between you and me. I want nothing said about it. Do you understand?”

“If you wish. But I’d like to know what caused them when you feel it appropriate to tell me.”

“Don’t badger me.” With a sigh, Devereux laid his head back on the pillow. “There’s a clean nightshirt in my bag. Help me off with my breeches.”

She hesitated.

“Now’s not the time to be prudish, woman,” he said. “You’re in no danger from me.” He huffed out a laugh. “My spirit is always willing, but the flesh…” He broke off as another coughing fit shook him.

“When you’re well again, I trust you will tell me. Also, the reason you left me alone at an inn on our wedding day.”

“Better that you don’t know, Selina.”

“Allow me to be the judge of that.”

Feeling his body, softly coiled beneath her fingers, she fumbled with his buttons.

“As you see,” he said with a trace of irony, “quite safe.”

Her face burned. She grabbed the bottoms of his breeches and pulled hard. He wore no underwear. Her gaze lingered for a moment on his maleness.

“Not quite at my best,” he said between clenched teeth. “I’m as weak as a kitten.”

“We must get you into bed.”

“I did warn you it would be a poor bargain you’d get with me, madam.”

“It hasn’t been the best of starts, has it?” she said lightly, hiding her concern and compassion. She knew it wouldn’t be welcome.

She took the white lawn nightshirt from his bag and threw it over his head, dressing him as she did Anne’s children. As she pulled the garment down, her face came close to his. She stared into his feverish eyes.

He moved with a speed that surprised her, pulling her against him. His big hand cupped her chin and brought her face close to his. “I want to kiss you, dammit,” he said, his blue eyes raking hers. “But I won’t pass this on to you.”

She pulled away, wishing he’d risked it. “Thank you for your consideration.”

“Not in love with me anymore, then.”

“What makes you think I ever was? Oh, sorry, I’m a weak female, so I must be.”

He gave a hoot of laughter. It turned into a hacking cough that left him breathless.

“Why did you marry me?” he asked when he could get his breath.

“A home of my own.”

“You had a comfortable life and an agreeable fortune. Some decent fellow would have turned up to give you a home and children.”

“But you have a title.” She hated the lie. He mustn’t discover her secret. He would judge her a poor thing, and she needed his respect. She regretted the words the moment they were out of her mouth.
Pride comes before a fall
.

Troubled blue eyes searched hers. “I sensed my title meant little to you, Selina. Or do I not know you at all?”

“Well, that makes two of us, my lord. For you are a complete mystery to me.”

Someone scratched at the door. Mary entered with a bowl of cold water and a cloth.

Selina tucked the sheets and blankets around him, adding another blanket for good measure. She dipped a cloth in the water and wrung it out then placed it on his forehead.

He reached up and took hold of her wrist, encircling it with his long fingers. “Have you been lonely?”

“I’ve been busy, as you see.”

“But the nights, lonely and…bored rigid?”

“I like to read.”

“By candlelight?” He grinned and kissed the inside of her wrist. “You’ll ruin your pretty green eyes.”

She started at the compliment. “You shouldn’t talk,” she said, hiding how pleased it made her. What a poor fool she was to pounce on every small crumb he threw her. She pulled her hand from his grasp. “You need to rest.”

He shut his eyes and fell instantly into a deep sleep. His labored breathing frightened her. Was it lung disease? She went to the fire and raked it with the poker. Sparks flew up the chimney. Pulling the bell cord, she ordered more firewood when the footman came. Whatever the doctor said, she would remain to watch him until morning.

She
was
that weak female she spoke of so scathingly. Whatever he was, whatever he’d done, she loved him. Instinct told her not to allow him to take control of her, however. Not only would that prove a mistake, she needed time. She didn’t understand him, or any of this. He hadn’t apologized for deserting her or offered her any explanation, not even a feeble one. She’d never caught him out in a lie. It was more what he didn’t say. Devereux was a force, like the wind, she thought bemusedly. He didn’t expect her to get in his way. Still, she’d hoped for at least some approval for what she’d achieved here but had no idea if it pleased him. Rather, she suspected the changes had caused him pain.

She watched him as he slept, studying the elegant bones of his face without the distraction of his intense blue gaze. At times, his full lips could quirk up with mocking humor. But in repose, his mouth was generous with a hint of passion, which made her sigh. She mightn’t be as beautiful as he would wish, but she’d fight to gain his respect at least. And he must earn hers.

What she refused to consider for a moment was that he might die.

****

Devereux woke. “I hear you, Doctor Phillips. You can keep your potions to yourself.” He closed his eyes and fell asleep again.

“He will recover?” Fearing his answer, Selina watched the doctor close his bag.

He raised his grey eyebrows. “His lordship is a strong man, but the next couple of days will be testing. He should have been resting up the moment this hit him not gallivanting round the country. Heaven knows what has caused all that bruising on his back. A fall from his horse?”

“He hasn’t yet said.”

He shook his head. “A difficult patient as a boy too. Didn’t want me to set his broken arm when he fell from a tree. Said it was a graze. We had quite a tussle. I don’t see any evidence that he’s changed.” He smiled to take the sting out of his words. “With a bit of luck, you’ll find him on the mend and just as bad-tempered tomorrow.”

Devereux opened his eyes and groaned. “Are you still here, Phillips? Can’t a man be left in peace?”

BOOK: At the Earl's Convenience
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