“Not that you have any right to ask, but I do not wish to speak with His Grace. I demand to see his sister, Lady Felicity.”
“Demand?” Warner laughed. “I admire your spirit, my lord. A man in your condition issuing demands.”
“Is she still here, damn you?”
“She is. In the kitchen, I believe. Showing our cook one of her recipes.” Warner chuckled again. “Mrs. Warner cannot seem to get enough of her chocolate biscuits.”
“I have not seen her in over two days.” Drake didn’t care that he sounded like a spoiled child. He wanted to see Felicity. “It is imperative that I see her.”
Warner narrowed his eyes and grunted, an annoying habit Drake had noticed before. “You are weak, my lord, and cannot expect to roam the inn in search of her. If you would be so kind as to lie back down, I will speak with His Grace and inquire as to whether his sister might be fetched.” After a curt shake of his head, he added, “I make no promises. One can predict nothing when it comes to women.”
Not about to admit defeat so easily, Drake pointed at a small writingdesk in the corner. “Help me sit upright long enough in this infernal bed to write to her. I beg you.”
The surgeon scowled at him. “I do not recommend that just yet, my lord. You must be stronger first.”
“I will never get any stronger if I do not push myself. Are you going to help me or not?”
Warner’s usual scowl deepened. “Fine, my lord. Hold fast and let me know if you need the chamber pot.”
Drake very nearly did cast up his accounts as the man helped him position himself back against the headboard with the support of multiple pillows. As the surgeon fetched quill, ink, and paper, he closed his eyes and sucked in deep breaths to regain control of the pain before his vision darkened any more with the threat of unconsciousness.
The cool rim of a cup was pressed against his mouth.
“Small sips, my lord,” Mr. Warner ordered him, “and continue breathing deeply while I fetch the items you require.”
“Thank you,” Drake whispered. He would do this task. It could very well be his last chance to convince Felicity to bless him with her presence. Blinking away the sweat running into his eyes, he sipped the water as instructed and also noted the surgeon had placed a basin within reach.
“My wife insisted we put my old lap desk in this particular room.” Mr. Warner set it across Drake’s legs. “The woman amazes me at times.”
“I appreciate her foresight.” Drake concentrated on what he wished to write to the woman who held his fate in her hands. “This will not take long. I have repeated these words over and over in my mind several times.”
This was his last chance. He dare not waste it.
*
The young womancleared her throat with a loudharrumphand curtsied. “My lady?”
Kneading the dough as if it had wronged her, Felicity hadn’t noticed the maid Chance had hired to help Mrs. Bean with Drake’s care. On that, Felicity had remained steadfast. She had agreed to stay at the inn, but she would not be spending every waking moment at Drake’s bedside. Her heart simply could not bear it.
Without taking her focus from the soon-to-be bread, she worked the dough harder. “Yes?”
“For you, my lady. From his lordship.” The girl held out a folded bit of paper.
Felicity eyed it as if it were a viper. “From Lord Wakefield?”
The maid nodded. “He asked that I put it in your hands rather than leave it in your room.”
“Did he now?” Felicity wiped her hands on her apron, then took it from the girl while trying to keep from shaking. “Thank you.”
The maid curtsied again, then hurried away, leaving Felicity alone beside the kitchen worktable.
It took her a moment to realize she was the only one in the kitchen. “I sense a conspiracy,” she told the bread dough as she unfolded the letter. “He must indeed be doing better.” But it wasn’t a letter. It was a poem from her eloquent, yet lying, earl.
A Gentleman’s Pleaby One MostContrite
O fairest lady, whose tender glance onceshed
A radiance brighter than heaven’s ownspread—
