They shouldn’t be having such an intimate conversation, especially here.
“I think it’s possible,” he said quietly and then finally glanced back to her. Althea noted the intensity in his blue eyes and her heart leapt, but he made no declaration with regard to her. Althea quashed her hope. At least she would for now so as not to be truly disappointed in the future.
“I will stay with her Lord Melcombe. You do not need to sit here,” Althea offered quietly and as a way to change the subject before she admitted to something that she should keep to herself.
If she wasn’t mistaken, disappointment flashed in his blue eyes. Oh, she wished she knew what to say, but Althea was at a loss and fearful of revealing too much too soon, if ever.
“I’ll remain. I want to assure myself that Fred will be fine through the night.”
“Is there a concern?” Did he see something in her eyes that worried him?
“I’ve witnessed too many soldiers suffer injuries after striking their head, when it was thought all was well.” He pulled the blanket up to Winifred’s chin. “I am being over cautious.”
“Fred?”
He chuckled and shook his head. “When Theodora decided that she preferred Teddy, Winifred decided she wished to be called Fred. But when Matilda hated being called Tilly, Winifred decided she wanted to be called by her full name.” He looked over at the sleeping child. “In time she’ll decide what she thinks fits her best.”
“Well, then I’ll bid you goodnight,” Althea offered, then quit the room, leaving Melcombe sitting beside his niece, much like a father might do when worried about their child.
She sighed and leaned back against her chamber door once inside her set of rooms. Handsome, caring, kind and so much more described her employer. It was no wonder that Miss Halton may have attempted to seduce himifthat had been the case.
Thatwasthe situation because she couldn’t imagine Melcombe being the seducer.
Except he had kissed her today.
With another sigh, Althea wandered to her bed and settled.
It really didn’t matter who was the seducer, it mattered how she responded.
Chapter Thirteen
Winifredsleptthroughthenight and woke in good spirits, much to his relief. He insisted that she remain in bed until a maid could assist her in dressing. He feared dizziness and didn’t wish for her to be alone, but he shouldn’t be the one getting her ready for the day.
Preston knew that he was being overly cautious, and there had been nothing to indicate that her head had been concussed, but that fear had clutched hold of his heart and he needed to remain by her side through the night.
While his youngest niece was happy and alert, Preston was still tired as he hadn’t slept well. The chair in which he’d spent the night was not meant for sleeping. After turning his niece over to the maid, Preston made his way to his own chamber and crawled in bed to rest just for a bit before he began his day, but when he wakened, it was well into the morning.
After his valet helped him dress, Preston made his way downstairs and hoped that Cook had set something aside from breakfast but was distracted by the laughter coming from the parlor.
“Do you know what today is, Uncle Preston?” Winifred called from her place upon the settee. She was covered in a blanket and leaning against a pillow.
“Does your head still pain you?” he asked with concern.
“No,” she answered. “But my knee hurts.” It was then that she pushed the blanket away and lifted her skirt only enough to see her knee.
“She hadn’t realized that she’d injured it until she tried to walk this morning,” Miss Claywell explained.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” he demanded, then remembered his tone. “I apologize,” he said quickly as he crossed to Winifred. The dark purple discoloring above the swelling on her knee gave rise to concern. “Can you move your leg?” he asked, then lifted her foot to bend her leg. Winifred winced but didn’t cry out, thank goodness. He didn’t wish to cause her pain, but he needed to know the extent of the injury, and a doctor would have done no less. “Where is the pain?”
Winifred pointed to the bruised area.
“Can you put weight on your leg?” he asked gently.
“I can walk, but it hurts.”
If it were broken, it’s unlikely she’d be able to walk at all, therefore, Winifred likely only suffered a deep bruise that would take time to heal.
“I’ve sent for Dr. Forester,” Miss Claywell explained. “I’m certain that it will heal in time but thought to be cautious.”
