"I can't look," Morrison blurted out. "I've decided. I simply cannot look directly at... at the affected areas. It's too much. I'll close my eyes and work by feel. Yes. That's the solution."
"Morrison, you cannot possibly—"Aubrey began.
A tremendous crash cut him off. The sound of the basin hitting the floor, water splashing everywhere.
Eleanor spun around to find Morrison standing frozen, water spreading across the floorboards in an ever-widening pool, his face pale as death, his eyes still squeezed firmly shut, his hands trembling in mid-air.
"Morrison!" Aubrey barked.
"I'm sorry, my lord!" Morrison's eyes flew open, wild with panic. "I closed them. I thought it would be easier, but then I couldn't see what I was doing and my hands started shaking worse and I reached for the basin but misjudged the distance and…" He gestured helplessly at the spreading disaster. "I've failed. I've completely failed."
"You haven't even tried yet!"
"I tried! I tried very hard!" Morrison's voice was approaching hysteria. "I gave myself a mental speech about duty and professionalism! I reminded myself that you pay me generously! I thought of England! But then I saw how high the bruising extended and I just…I cannot, my lord. I simply cannot."
He pressed his hands to his face. "My nerves are not equal to the task. My constitution is too delicate. I am not anyone remotely qualified to handle injuries of this... this intimate and traumatic nature. I deal with wrinkled fabrics and occasionally challenging bootlaces, not... notthat areawhen it's covered in horrific bruising!"
"You're my valet—"
"And I shall valet admirably once you're healed!" Morrison was nearly wailing now. "I'll tie your cravats! I'll polish your boots! I'll organise your wardrobe by colour and season! But this—" He gestured vaguely toward Aubrey's lower half. "This requires someone with nerves of steeland no sense of impropriety whatsoever. Someone like..." His eyes darted to Eleanor. "Like a wife."
"No," Aubrey said immediately, his face going grey.
"My lord, please."
"Absolutely not. I would rather take my chances with infection than subject myself to—" He stopped, his jaw clenching. "Fetch another valet. A footman. A stable boy. Anyone."
"The stable boy?" Morrison looked horrified. "My lord, he has manure under his fingernails!"
Eleanor felt something cold and hard settle in her chest.Anyone but her.
She looked at Morrison, who was still trembling, his face the colour of old parchment. Then at Aubrey, whose jaw was set with stubborn pride even as sweat beaded on his forehead from pain.
"Morrison," Eleanor said quietly, "fetch fresh water and more clean cloths from the kitchen."
"Yes, my lady." Morrison fled with obvious relief.
Eleanor moved to the bed, her expression betraying nothing despite the roiling mixture of humiliation and anger in her chest.
"I'm going to clean your wounds now," she said, her voice steady.
"No—"
"Morrison cannot do it. You just saw him drop the basin before he even touched you." Eleanor kept her hands at her sides.
"I'll hire someone. A professional nurse—"
"By the time you find someone suitable, infection could set in. Don’t be foolish." Eleanor met his eyes. "Trust me, I find this more distasteful and mortifying than you. You probably can’t imagine it because you’re a selfish man but do try. Nevertheless, I will not have a dead man in thehouse just before Christmas. So you can cooperate, or I can tie you down and force you. But it's happening regardless."
Aubrey's jaw worked, fury and humiliation warring on his face.
She took his silence as progress and reached for the sheet covering him, her hands steady through sheer force of will.
This was going to be the longest month of both their lives.
Chapter five
Useless Valet
