Jumping up, she immediately placed a hand on his brow.
Burning. Roxboro was burning up.
Dr. Reading had visited just yesterday, leaving behind a mixture of herbs that should be given to Roxboro to help with the fever. The laudanum would help with the pain of his wounds, though since she wasn’t certain whether Roxboro was addicted to opium or not, she cautioned Barstow on the medicine’s use.
Keep him quiet. Don’t get his wounds wet. Bathe him with cold water to keep him comfortable. Check for putrid skin.
She pulled back the sheet to examine the wound below his shoulder, and the others, across his ribs on his chest. Two looked far better than they had but the others were still an angry red. Sophia leaned in and sniffed, searching for the terrible odor of rotten flesh, but therewas nothing but the aroma of sweat. No sign of infection.
“You don’t get to die yet, Roxboro. I should be given a chance to make things right. Then, if you wish, fall into the Thames. Or trip down the stairs. So be it. But not yet.”
Sophia stood and walked across the room, remembering Dr. Reading’s instructions. Throwing open the door, she startled the maid just outside who nearly fell off her stool.
“Find Barstow and Stone,” she said to the girl. “I need a tub with the coolest water you can find. Hurry.”
*
“Lower him in.Slowly.” Sophia checked the depth of the water, making sure it would go no further than his hips. The bandages above his ribs could not get wet.
Roxboro was completely naked save for the bandages and the small clothes covering his…male anatomy. She’d turned her back while Stone adjusted matters to give his employer some privacy. And while she didn’t think her husband necessarily cared who saw his…cock…given his arrogance, Sophia did.
She declined to look herself.
It was hard enough to not ogle such a handsomely made, but unconscious man. Thick thighs, heavy with muscle. The sculpted torso dusted with dark hair. Long, elegant arms and legs. Hard to believe they tangled up so often to make him trip.
Sophia lowered her eyes, biting back a sob.
I don’t want him to die.
“Your Grace,” Barstow said quietly. “Stone and I can bathe the duke. You should rest. Eat and sleep.”
“I eat. I sleep,” Sophia returned, raising her chin. “Let’s get on with this.”
Roxboro’s eyes, glowing green and laced with flecks of silver,snapped open in surprise as the cold water touched his heated skin.
“No,” he snarled at Sophia. “It hurts. What is the meaning of this?” he choked out.
“Shh. You have a fever, Roxboro. We need to bring it down. You’ve been injured.” She gently ran a cloth over him while Barstow held him down. He was so hot. Like touching a stove.
“That trollop tried to slash my throat,” he mumbled, the rest unintelligible. A series of grunts and whimpers followed as Sophia bathed his heated skin. “Tell Oakhurst I am not ever coming to this establishment again.”
“I will,” Sophia said in a soothing tone.
“Oh,” his eyes on her were unfocused as they took her in. “You aren’t the trollop, are you?” He settled. Stopped twitching. “Maybe you’ll join me in the tub?”
“Barstow,” she said. “Please remain outside the door until I call. You as well, Stone.”
The butler opened his mouth to protest but changed his mind and nodded instead.
Stone merely bowed.
“Thank you,” Sophia murmured. “When I’m finished, I’ll have you return him to the bed.”
Roxboro was delirious. Not in his right mind. And while she was sure that Barstow and the rest of the staff were used to the duke and his antics, Sophia didn’t want any of them to see him like this.
“Yes, Your Grace. Should I send for Lord Damon?” Barstow’s eyes met hers.
“No, I’ll write to him tomorrow.” She wasn’t sure what, exactly, kept her from sending for Damon Viceroy when Roxboro very well could be dying—
