Just then, a veritable sea of maids poured into the room, carrying everything that the older woman had requested: a basin of steaming water, a pile of cloths, a tray of tea and rather delicious-looking cakes, a little basket filled with a multitude of small bottles and vials, alongside cut-up pieces of fruit, a box of sweetmeats, a fine housecoat and slippers that definitely did not belong to Thalia, and some books.
“Oh, sheisawake!” one of them cheered.
“Thank goodness!” a few chorused back.
The older woman approached, keeping the tide of young maids back. “How are you feeling, Your Grace? You gave us all quite the fright.”
“I… fear there has been some misunderstanding,” Thalia managed to croak, as she pushed herself up onto her elbows.
The older woman, a head maid or housekeeper or lady’s maid of some kind, immediately jumped in to help lift Thalia into asitting position. She grabbed cushions and pillows and stuffed them behind Thalia’s back, propping her up.
“There, is that better?” the older woman asked.
Thalia swallowed to wet her arid throat. “No… no, I do not think it is. I am… very uncomfortable with all of this.”
“Well, naturally,” the other woman replied with a fond smile. “You took a terrible tumble down the stairs, Your Grace, so you’ve a few scrapes and bruises. I doubt anyone would be comfortable after a fall like that. Come, let me change that dressing on your head.”
Thalia recoiled, her hands shooting up in a gesture of defense. “What is going on here? I did not fall down any stairs. I was in the carriage, and?—”
A man marched into the bedchamber with no concern for her privacy whatsoever. So tall he had had to stoop beneath the lintel, he proceeded into the room in a state of shocking undress, wearing nothing but trousers and a shirt, the sleeves rolled up to reveal corded forearms, while his open collar showed a triangle of sun-browned skin. Broad-shouldered and broad-chested, he cut an imposing figure as he came to a standstill and ran a hand through wavy dark hair.
With a shriek of outrage, Thalia grasped the edge of the coverlets and pulled them up to middle of her neck, her eyes bulging at this latest indignity.
“What is the meaning of this?” she rasped.
The older woman, who had retreated from Thalia’s bedside, bowed her head to the man and murmured, “She just woke up, Your Grace. It’s to be expected that she needs a moment for the rest of her to wake up.”
Your Grace?So, that was the reason he was comfortable appearing before such company in so few clothes: he was the duke of this household. However, it didnotexplain why the older maid had been callingher‘Your Grace.’ Clearly, there had been a miscommunication somewhere.
“Yes, I imagine so,” the man replied to the older woman, though he still had not acknowledged Thalia’s question.
Instead, his blue eyes, the color of a sapphire gown that Thalia’s mother favored, glanced back toward the door as another figure blustered in, fastening the cord of a housecoat. The first familiar face she had seen since she had woken up.
“Apologies, apologies. I should not have imbibed so much last night; I was slow to rise at the summons,” the newly arrived figure blurted out, skidding to a halt.
The duke cast a disapproving eye across the older man.
“Father?” Thalia blinked rapidly to be certain she was not seeing things. “What is going on?”
Gibbs smiled awkwardly. “You have been unconscious for almost four days, daughter.”
Her mind flitted back to the conversation that had sent her out in that carriage in the first place, as her bewildered gaze darted from her father to the handsome duke and back again.
Her brain jolted a second time, slotting pieces together.Four days? If that is true, then…
“You cannot be serious, Father!” she gasped, her heart thundering in her chest, while her head began to throb as if someone had hammered a nail directly into her skull. “I have just been in a terrible accident, you cruel beast! I am not going to marry the Duke right at this moment! What, would you carry me to the church and make me stand there, bruised and dazed as I am, when I have just narrowly avoided death? Did you bring me here unconscious so I would have no choice? Indeed, I am surprised you did not just have the ceremony while I was out cold!”
A murmur of confusion rippled around the maids, while Thalia’s father and the handsome stranger exchanged an equally bemused look, although the duke’s had a darker edge of displeasure to it.
“Father, this is too much, even for you,” she added, though it was the other man who held her attention.
He was looking at her intently, his brow creased as if he had discovered something unpleasant. Indeed, his entire expressionbothered her, feeling as if she were being assessed or judged in some capacity, like an insect under a magnifying glass.
The fact that he was extraordinarily attractive, with a strong jaw that had not yet received a morning shave, sculpted cheekbones, and a perfectly sloping nose did not do anything but unnerve her further. She did not trust handsome men; she had learned that lesson, if nothing else, during her first Season. The most handsome men in society were the most arrogant, the most mocking, and the most unpleasant beneath the beautiful surface.
“I will summon the physician again,” he said, stepping closer to the end of her bed. “You do not look too well at all, and I do not like the way that bruising is coming down to your temple.”
Still holding the coverlets up to her neck, Thalia frowned back at the man. “I am perfectly fine, aside from the fact that my father is trying to get me to marry when I am clearly in no fit state.”
