That same fire he spoke of rushed through her.
She tugged her hand away at once. “You haven’t a fever at all, Your Royal Highness. I must bid you good evening.”
Eleanora turned to go.
“Please.”
One word, and it stopped her as if it were a physical restraint. Because it radiated with raw emotion. Real emotion, she thought. Not his practiced flattery and seductive persuasion. Genuine emotion.
Fear with a hint of pain, tinged with something else.
Longing.
It was as if the mask he wore for the world had suddenly shattered and fallen away. Instead of playing the role of experienced seducer and devil-may-care rake, he was showing her the man hiding beneath the façade. A man of vulnerability.
And she found herself, despite every reason she should retreat at once, remaining. Relenting. Feeling things for this wicked prince she had no right to feel.
“Perhaps for a few minutes more,” she allowed, feeling her way through the darkness to her chair.
“Do you think you might light a candle before you sit?” he asked with a boyish hope that further unsettled her. “I’d prefer to see your lovely countenance thoroughly illuminated.”
She tamped down any yearning that his comment about her loveliness caused. She knew it was empty flattery anyway.Eleanora was more than aware of what she looked like, and she was no beauty. Not as her mother had been. But then, Mama had possessed a truly rare and original beauty, a vivacity that had shone from within and had attracted men to her the way a Siren lured sailors into rocky shoals.
Working her way through the shadows, she found a spill and lit it in the remnants of the dwindling fire before lighting the candles on a candelabra whose form she’d taken note of in the murkiness. She carried it to the table near his bedside, trying not to look at the way the golden light lovingly highlighted the elegant planes of his handsome face. He was a beautiful man. Even in his present state, looking exhausted, the bandage around his upper arm, he was the most breathtaking gentleman she’d ever beheld. A dangerous man, to be sure, and not just because of his undeniable looks, but because of a host of other reasons as well.
Not least of all the way he made her pulse flutter.
Averting her gaze, Eleanora resumed her seat at his side, taking care to primly smooth her skirts and gather her wits.
“Thank you.”
His silken voice and gratitude had her gaze lifting to meet his against her better judgment. He was watching her intently, but his expression had changed. His jaw was clenched, and as he shifted in the bed, he made another grunt of pain.
“Allow me to fetch some laudanum for you, Your Royal Highness,” she said hastily, thinking it would be better if she were occupied with a task and if he soon returned to the depths of slumber where he belonged so that she might make her escape.
If the princess and Mr. Tierney were to discover she’d been lingering here alone with Prince Ferdinando all night long, she had no notion of what they would say. It was entirely possible she might be dismissed, despite it having been the princess’sidea for her to attend him earlier. If Eleanora had learned anything from her time beneath the thumb of the quality, it was that they were mercurial creatures.
“I’ve already told you that I don’t want the damned poison,” he grumbled.
But Eleanora ignored him. Rising from her chair and going to the tray where the laudanum was kept, she poured him a measure.
“It will help with the pain,” she told him, returning to his bedside with the medicine and offering it.
He winced but quickly replaced the expression with a devilish smile. “Will you come closer, my dear? I fear I’m too weak to partake on my own. Sit here.”
With his uninjured arm, he patted the area to his right.
The bed.
No, she would not—dared not—sit on the bed with him. Even in his weakened, wounded state, it would be ruinous.
Eleanora shook her head. “It wouldn’t be proper.”
“Do I look like I’m concerned with propriety, Eleanora?”
She wished he would cease calling her by her given name. The familiarity sent a frisson down her spine whenever he called her Eleanora in that deep, mellifluous voice of his.
She swallowed. “You may not be concerned with it, but I must be. As we’ve established, Your Royal Highness, I am dependent upon my reputation. Without it, none of the lords and ladies of thetonwill allow me to guide their daughters.”
