“Sir?”
Colin spun around.
Fitz gaped at him.
“Close your mouth, man.” When Fitz edged toward him, obviously ready to ask if something was wrong, Colin added. “Not a word. I don’t want to hear it.”
Silently, Fitz picked up and folded Colin’s discarded clothing, then helped him pull off his other boot.
“I don’t need a shave tonight.”
Colin ignored the questions darting in Fitz’s eyes and exhaled a sigh when the man finally left him alone.
Alone. He recalled the words of the child, Indira Weatherby.You’re just a sad, lonely man.
Alone and lonely.
He tried to sleep, but closing his eyes just meant he would dream of Anne trapped in the rotted floorboards of the passage. Half-way through the night, he crept through the dressing rooms and cracked open the door to her bedchamber.
She slept, but it wasn’t a peaceful slumber. She tossed and turned, and with each movement, she gave a muffled groan of pain.
Unable to watch any longer, he closed the door and returned to his room to wait out the night.
Before daybreak, he had already dressed and gone downstairs. Servants going about their duties, stopped, prepared to wish him good morning or to ask if herequired something.
He simply held up a hand and walked past them and out the door, on a mission. Around him, the morning mist enveloped him like a hug, and a faint shimmer of light rose in the east, painting the horizon in dusky hues of blue and pink. The sweet, fresh smell of the grass mixed with the rich earth as if promising new beginnings.
After walking about a mile, he found what he needed and pulled out the knife from his pocket, shaving the bark from a white willow. Once he’d collected plenty in his handkerchief, he secured the bundle with a loose knot.
When he arrived back at the house, Rupert greeted him and cast a glance toward Colin’s bundle. “Good morning, sir. You’re up and about early. What do you have there?”
A bit of success had lifted Colin’s spirits—slightly. He opened the bundle for Rupert’s inspection. “Willow bark. Have you ever heard of making a tea from it for pain?”
The man’s face brightened. “I have, sir.” He drew closer and peered down at the shreds of wood lying in the handkerchief. “Is that for her ladyship? You’ll need to crush that up. I have something for that.” He held out his hand. “Would you like me to do it for you?”
Colin handed it over to Rupert’s capable hands. “Thank you. If you could prepare it as soon as possible and bring it to the house, I would appreciate it.”
Rupert nodded. “We are all terribly sorry to hear about her ladyship’s injury.”
With a quick word of thanks, Colin left the man to his duties.
By the time he returned, the house bustled with activity as servants went about their morning tasks. Smells of sausage and, thank God, coffee enticed him as he passed the breakfast room, and his stomach rumbled. At the sideboard, Alan stood at attention.
“Has anyone taken a tray up to my wife?” Colin asked as he prepared a plate.
“Not yet, my lord. If I may be so bold, how is my lady faring?”
Shame soured his stomach that he couldn’t answer honestly. “I believe she had a fitful night.” Poised to pour himself a cup of coffee, he had a delightful idea. Something that would help himbegin to make amends or at least soften the situation between him and Anne.
“Have Cook prepare some hot chocolate and bring it here. I will take a tray up to my wife.”
Alan nodded and rushed off, no doubt hearing the urgency in Colin’s request.
While he waited, Colin ate quickly, not even finishing when Alan returned with the pot of hot chocolate, then prepared a tray of Anne’s favorites.
Resisting the surge of pride that he indeed remembered her favorites, he plucked a velvety rose from a flower arrangement on the sideboard and laid it on the tray.
At Anne’s door, he paused, unsure how to knock while holding the tray. He tapped the toe of his boot against the wood. Then he balanced the tray along one arm and quickly turned the knob.How do the servants manage this?
