“As much as you can trust me,” Chase said with a grin.
“We don’t trust you,” Amelia said from the doorway, unable to remain quiet any longer.
Mr. Chase touched his chest. “Why not? I’ve been nothing but truthful and came to your aid in a desperate hour of need.”
“You’re doing it for the Widow. It’s transactional,” Graham retorted.
Mr. Chase straightened. “Exactly. You don’t need to trust me or like me. This is business. Clear, cut, and dry. You’ll hardly notice when I’m here, unless I want you to.”
Chapter Forty-Five
Two evenings later,Graham and Amelia were getting ready to have dinner at Sam’s side. He had some color to his cheeks, a red flush that had brought Amelia to tears when she first saw it, but Dr. Sloan was quick to remind her that it was only the fever setting in. He was warm to the touch, but after his skin had been cold and waxy for so long, the warmth gave her hope. Hope that Dr. Sloan was always quick to burst.
“He’s concerned about dehydration,” Amelia said to Graham. “Petrov has taken to dribbling water over his lips, but Dr. Sloan said it’s useless if Sam cannot swallow.”
“Trying is never useless,” Graham said. He always knew what to say to make her feel better. These past few days had been a blur of either waiting at Sam’s side or being in Graham’s arms.
“I’m here for my charge.” Mr. Chase entered unannounced and peered around the room for the absent Miss Smith with a frown.
“I believe she went down to the kitchen with one of the maids for a cup of tea,” Amelia said.
Mr. Chase frowned. “She’s not supposed to do that.”
“Why? Are you afraid she’ll meet men more interesting than you? Speaking of which, how did you get up here without a footman escorting you?” she demanded.
“I know all your footmen now. They know they don’t need to escort me.”
Amelia scrunched her nose. “I’ll have Mrs. Keen discuss that with them.”
“Where’s your kitchen?”
“She’ll return for her satchel. Just wait like a good errand boy.”
Graham coughed as he set his glass down. “Amelia. Don’t taunt him.”
“Yes, Amelia, don’t taunt me.”
Graham snapped a glare at him.
“Beg pardon, Lady Amelia.”
Amelia stood and approached him, studying the way he leaned in the doorway with a practiced pose of nonchalance, but really he was tense, ready to react.
“What did you do before you became a spy for Mrs. Dove-Lyon?” Amelia asked. But at that moment, Miss Smith arrived.
“Good evening, Mr. Chase. I’m ready to go,” Miss Smith said. She smiled at Mr. Chase and it seemed to send a jolt through him.
“See you tomorrow, Miss Smith.” Amelia said.
“Yes. Thank you, my lady.”
Mr. Chase left without a word. Amelia went to the table where Graham sat, watching her with a wry grin.
“You’re making mischief.”
“He’s smitten with her. I just know it. Everything he does is a performance but when she smiled at him, he flinched.”
“Flinched?”
