The touches, far from heightening his alarm, instead seemed to be soothing him, bringing him back to himself. Himself and the bucket of his vomit which sat ignominiously in his lap.
“I cast up my accounts,” he said, and it was needless.
She would have seen it, heard it.Bloody hell, it was still there, taunting him.
“So you have,” she said, using her other hand to gently brush a lock of hair which had fallen over his eyes to the side. “But I remember a day when I was sick, and you soothed me and took care of me. You washed my face and brought me water.”
The day they had realized she was with child.
It had been one of the finest days of his life, when their future had seemed uncertain and yet drenched in promise and hope and love. He did not know if he could find his way back to the man he had been then.
“You need not tend to me,” he said, willing her to go. “I can do for myself.”
“You need not have tended to me that day either,” she returned.
They were interrupted then by the arrival of a footman, who carried away the bowl. A tray was deposited upon the table before them, and she dismissed the servants before returning her attention to him.
She was achingly lovely tonight, dressed as if she had gone to supper. Small details made themselves apparent to him now. Diamonds at her ears, her throat. Something new, a mole upon her collarbone that he did not recall. Had he missed it? Had the beauty mark just arrived during his absence?
He realized he was touching her, his fingertip grazing the heart-shaped mark, only when her fingers tangled with his. “It is new,” she said as if reading his thoughts. “It appeared while I was carrying Robby, and it has stayed with me.”
“I did not remember it.”
“But you did remember something else.” Vibrant-green eyes searched his.
He could not look away. “Yes.”
Was she pretending not to know? He wished he could tell. Surely she would have been aware of what had transpired in this room that day. It was the reason she had gone to tea, making certain to be out of the house when Longleigh returned. And for Longleigh to have known about the ring and other pieces of jewelry she had given him, Tilly would have had to tell the duke.
But still, try as he might to gird himself against her allure, in his weakened state, and beneath the force of her concern, he could not seem to harden his heart. He wanted to believe she did not know. Wanted to think she’d had no part of what had happened. Because if she had been as innocent and unaware as he was, then that meant…
No.
He would not think it.
“What did you remember?” she asked, gently pressing a cool, damp cloth to his brow.
So tender. As if she cared. He wanted to take the cloth from her, thrust her away. But another part of him also never wanted her to stop or go. Never wanted her to take her warmth, her scent.Roses.Still roses. Filling his head, filling his heart.
Not his heart. There was no place for her there. She had betrayed him. She was the reason he had been sent to prison.
He had to gather his ragged thoughts.
What if she was not? What if she was as innocent as I was?
“You know what I remember,” he told her stubbornly, banishing the doubts. “You were a part of it.”
“No.” She shook her head. “Tell me. Please. Boyle said you appeared to grow ill when you entered the room. What happened here?”
“You know,” he repeated, even as the hand which had been massaging his neck crept to his lap, her bare fingers tangling with his.
Even as he held them tight instead of brushing them away.
“I do not know, but I want you to explain so that I may understand. Tell me what has made you ill.”
Did she have to be so bloody understanding? Did she have to sound so goddamn concerned? As if she cared?
He attempted an explanation, but his mouth was dry and his throat seized. He tried to clear it. Still no words.
