Not that he was pleased to annul his marriage to Eleanora. The notion made his gut churn. The weeks he had spent as her husband had been the happiest he had ever known. He loved her more than he had imagined possible. And it was because he loved her—truly, selflessly, eternally—that he was going to leave her.
She would be better off without his selfish arse.
The door opened at his back, and he spun about to find Dr. Crisfield, not nearly as grim as he had been one week ago.
“How is she?” he asked, tamping down the thoughts of what he must soon do.
Crisfield smiled—a rarity for such a serious man. “Her wound is healing well. I have every confidence that Her Royal Highness is no longer in danger of contagion and that she will regain full movement of her left arm after the wound is completely healed.”
Relief washed over him, quickly followed by dread.
Because Eleanora was well on her way to being whole once again. But Nando would forever be broken without her.
“You are looking well this afternoon,”Stasia greeted Eleanora, flanked on either side by Princess Emmaline and Princess Annalise.
Propped comfortably in her bed by a mountain of pillows, clad for the first time since she had been wounded in a true gown, and freshly bathed, Eleanora smiled at the three women who had been paying regular calls upon her during her recuperation. She had come to cherish their friendships greatly.
“Thank you, and the same might be said of all of you as well.” She noted that Princess Emmaline was not wearing trousers today, although she had on some previous visits. “A lovely gown, Emmaline.”
Emmaline cast a disgusted glance down at her pink muslin. “Dreadfully uncomfortable as well, but I do thank you.”
Eleanora had to bite her lip to keep from chuckling at the princess’s continued disdain for gowns. “The pink suits you, nonetheless, despite the discomfort. Do have a seat, if you please. I was intending to venture to the drawing room today for tea, but I fear I’ve been a slug-a-bed, and thus far, I’ve only managed to dress.”
The nature of her injury had rendered proper gowns and undergarments nearly impossible. Today had been the first that she had dared to attempt to don them with her lady’s maid’s help. Nando had objected each morning, telling her that she needed to allow herself time to heal. However, when he had kissed her good evening the night before, he had told her that he had some calls to make in the morning that would keep him from her side.
Now that she thought upon it, he had been gone for a great many hours. It was afternoon, and she had yet to see him. Her heart gave a pang. He had been such a steadfast presence through her recovery that she had come to take him a bit for granted.
The ladies seated themselves in chairs that had been arranged for the purpose of their visits.
“How is your shoulder?” Stasia asked, concern in her voice.
“The wound is healing nicely.”
“It was quite valiant of Nando to intervene as he did,” said Princess Annalise, “attacking that vile villain at just the right moment.”
There was awe in the princess’s voice, and it was matched by Eleanora. Although Nando continued to insist that he was responsible for Levering shooting her, she was simply grateful that he had saved her by ruining the earl’s aim with the quick blow from the fire poker. She had no doubt that she would not be here today if he hadn’t acted quickly. The memory of Levering’s crazed expression, the naked hatred in his eyes, sent a shiver down her spine.
The man had been intent upon murder.
“It was, indeed,” she agreed, a fond smile curving her lips as she thought of how he had tended to her, showing her such care. “I’ll be forever indebted to him for saving me.”
Her ability to withstand his charm had been banished by his attentiveness. Over the last fortnight, he had shown her a side of himself that she had only previously glimpsed. The true Nando, she thought. And he was a man she could love.
A man she was in love withalready, if she were brutally honest with herself.
“I am relieved to see that the two of you have parted on good terms, then,” Stasia said.
For a moment, Eleanora could do nothing but stare at her friend as her words failed to make sense.
“Parted?” she repeated, frowning in confusion. “Forgive me, but I believe I must have misheard you.”
Stasia’s brow wrinkled, her expression turning strange. “Nando paid a call upon us before he left for Varros this morning. I’ve never seen him so somber.”
Eleanora felt all the blood drain from her face. It was as if the floor had opened suddenly, and she had fallen through the hole.
Varros? Nando hadleftfor Varros? This morning? How? It was not possible. He had just been with her last night, kissing her softly, lingeringly. Telling her again how sorry he was for what had happened.
Telling her that he would do everything he could to make amends. That vow suddenly seemed far more ominous than it had the night before.
