“Apologies for taking so long. The countess needed my attention for a few minutes.”
Smith gave her a long look and said, “No need to apologize. I am an unexpected guest taking you away from your duties.”
Adele placed the soap on the edge of the washstand and took a step away, preparing to supervise while Smith shaved. He got right into it, probably some old muscle memory telling him what to do, and managed to lather up his face. He leaned forward and began to scrape the lather away from his face and into the basin.
Adele opted not to speak while he worked. This looked like something that required great concentration.
Well, that, and she was mesmerized.
She couldn’t remember even seeing her father shave, although clearly he must have because he was always clean-shaven. She watched now as Smith ran the blade down his cheeks and chin, taking lather and his whiskers with it but somehow not cutting himself. Well, he did manage to nick himself near the base of his chin and a little bead of blood formed there. He grunted and touched a handkerchief to it, then finished the job. Every stroke looked steady and practiced. Adele wondered if learning to shave was part of some ritual all men went through, especially in these days when beards were not fashionable.
Her mind wandered to all kinds of places as she watched Smith work. She briefly entertained a fantasy in which they shared a bedroom and this was part of his morning ritual. What must it be like to share a room, share a life, with a man? She’d thought about it quite a lot when she’d been engaged to Geoffrey but never had the opportunity to even sleep under the same roof as him.
Smith finished the job and patted his face with a towel. He leaned forward and examined his reflection in the mirror. “That is much better. But I missed a few spots. This mirror is not the cleanest. Perhaps you could help me.”
Adele sat at the foot of the bed and looked over Smith’s face. He had done an admirable job, although he had missed a line of hair near his chin. He handed her a brush with lather. “Swipesome of this over the parts that still have hair. It will help protect my skin from the blade. Then just lightly scrap the side of the blade along my skin. Act as though your task were just to remove the lather, not to apply much pressure to my face.”
“All right.”
She swallowed and followed his instructions. Performing this task necessitated leaning very close to Smith, close enough to see the fine lines of his face, close enough to smell him. She did as he asked, adding lather and scraping it off.
She did nick him again on her last pass along his chin, although he claimed it did not hurt. She dabbed at his cuts with a wet handkerchief until the bleeding stopped. Then she met his gaze.
He smiled at her. His eyes were so kind and beautiful. The scent of the shaving soap swirled around them, and Adele found herself drawn to it. She leaned a little closer to smell the scent of the soap on Smith’s skin. It was heady.
“I do thank you for your assistance,” Smith said softly.
“You’re welcome.”
The thought passed through her head that he might like a bath next. Perhaps she could help him with that as well…
She laughed to herself and backed away. That was ridiculous. She had no business helping him with anything so intimate. She was not his wife. They barely knew each other.
Adele took the towel and the handkerchief, intending to put them in the bin for one of the maids to take to the laundry later. Her fingers brushed against his hand as she took everything from him. She hated to break the spell, but needs must.
*
Smith watched Adeleclean up, something she seemed to havedone automatically. He wondered if she did this because it was her job to do so or if she were just the sort of woman who took care of everyone.
Being close to her was soothing in a way. She was so pretty and kind that he wanted to get closer to her.
As soon as he’d held the razor in his hand, he’d known what to do with it. He suspected he often let his valet do this, but enough memory was in his body to tell him he performed this task himself sometimes, too. But he’d left a little hair on his face because he found himself longing to have her take care of him.
This was now the third day of his convalescence, so to speak. He felt nearly cured, no pain in his head at all and very little dizziness, although his memory was still elusive. If he knew where his home was, now would be the time to go there. He knew a time would come, either because he recalled who he was or they found enough clues to determine his identity, that he’d have to go home. But he would have hated to leave Adele.
Selfishly, he liked having her fuss over him.
But he wanted to do something for her as well. There was not much he could do; he did not seem to have much in the way of domestic skills, nor did he have any money.
“Miss Paulson, is there perhaps something I can help you with as a return on this favor?”
She looked at him, her expressions surprised. “I cannot think of anything.”
He stood and gave himself one last glance at the mirror. He looked quite agreeable, and he liked how smooth the skin on his face felt. He had dark hair and knew keeping the shadow off his face was likely a daily battle, so he figured he’d be repeating this every morning, although likely not with Adele present.
Then he had an idea.
“I am a bit parched. It is a lovely, sunny day,” he said. “Perhaps we can ask the cook to put some luncheon together for us and then go eat it out in the garden.”
