He arched one brow.
She arched one in return.
And so, it began. Again.
The brow waggling war.
Until a throat cleared near them, and Maddie snatched up her glass of wine and averted her gaze. If she had to survive an entire dinner beside this insufferable man, she would need more than a glass. Abarrel, perhaps.
The man was impossible.
He was also too clever by half. And worse still, he saw too much. Of her. She pressed her palm to her forehead and drew in a slow breath.
She wouldnotfall ill.
Not now, when her life was at stake and she needed to find the right husband as quickly as possible. Not just anyone would do.
But still… if she fainted… maybe the marquess would catch her?
Now that was an idea worth exploring.
Chapter Six
Later that evening,in his chambers, Sebastian sniffled.Argh!He blew his nose fully, then again into the handkerchief embroidered with Thomas’s crimson initials.
A knock sounded at his door.
“I’m busy.” All he needed was to suffer in peace.
Another knock. Then the latch turned.
“Anyone here?” a soft voice came, causing unbidden shivers to run down his spine.
“No,” he barked, voice thick, from behind another damp square of linen. He might be the one blowing phlegm all over Thomas’s name, but he’d rather not do it over anyone else. That did not stop the girl from entering, however.
Very well.
“Set it down there, please. The linens here and that there.”
Wait. That voice was familiar.
Maddie?
Sebastian’s head jerked up. Of course it would be her.
“Thank you,” she added with a nod to the two footmen, who carried in a steaming pot of water and a pile of pristine white linens. “You may go,” she told the elder footman, with a graceful flick of her wrist. “I shall ensure the Marquess of Cambridge is properly cared for and will return to my chambers shortly. You may leave the dooropen.”
With a bow, the footmen retreated.
“I didn’t ask for a nursemaid, Miss Madeleine,” Sebastian muttered, feigning irritation. But, truth be told, she was a sight for sore eyes—and his were among the sorest.
She paid him no mind, carrying a stool from the far wall and setting it beside the small table bearing the steaming pot. “Sit here and hurry before the steam fades.”
Then she untied a narrow leather case and unrolled it with a practiced flick, revealing a neat row of fabric loops, each holding a small glass vial.
Sebastian squinted. Was she here to treat him or seduce him with tinctures?
No, that was the fever and the building headache speaking. The door was open as per her specific instructions. She didn’t invite scandal.
