“Are you sure?” Mara asked.
She smiled in return, before giving an elegant shrug. “I could do with a brief holiday.” With that, she quietly closed the door behind her.
Mara, in turn, spent the rest of the evening and long into the night tirelessly changing Bentley’s dressings and trying to get some herbal tea down his throat. Her back ached, and her head hurt from lack of sleep and constant worry, but she remained vigilant by his side. She vowed she wouldn’t leave him until there was some improvement in his condition.
She refused to imagine the alternative.
As Mara dipped a rag in the water bowl on the bedside table, she began to wash Bentley’s face. There were still slight traces of dried blood on his shaven scalp, and she tenderly wiped it away. It reminded her of the first time she’d ever seen him, and the pitiful shape he’d been in on board that slave ship.
“We’ll get through this, B, just like we did then. You have to pull through. Lily is gone. I can’t lose you too.” Her voice caught, but she went on, “I told Athena that I would accept a loan from her, just until we can get on our feet again. I’d hoped that Roarke and I might…” She shook her head. “But there’s no use lamenting what might have been, is there? We have to look to the future, not the past.”
For the next few hours, Mara continued to speak in soft tones about anything and everything, and while Bentley merely lied there without any sort of response, she kept talking, hoping that she might manage to reach out to his subconscious and somehow, bring him back to her.
* * *
“Where is she?”
Roarke pushed past the startled woman standing as sentry at the front door. She nearly managed to slam it shut in his face before he wedged a foot inside.
“‘Ere now!” she cried as she followed him in a huff. “You can’t jus’ burst in ’ere without so much as a never mind!”
Roarke spun on her and practically growled. “I’ll do whatever I damn well please until I find Mara.”
“I’ll deal with Lord Eversleigh, Pansy.”
Roarke turned sharply at the smooth, feminine voice.
“I shall take you to what you desire most, my lord, but first, I believe you are in need of a drink. I trust sherry will be suitable enough?” With that, she breezed back into the parlor, obviously expecting him to do the same.
Since it was apparent she wouldn’t help him until he did so, Roarke reluctantly followed suit. Her delicate hands with perfectly manicured nails handed him a crystal tumbler as he sat down.
“Now then, can I trust us to have a calm chat?” she asked, before taking a seat across from him.
“Look,” Roarke set aside the drink and ran a hand through his hair. “All I want is to talk to Mara. I know she’s here because Lady Ambrel had one of her footmen follow her hackney after Mara received a message concerning Big B.” He blew out a breath. “I’ve ridden halfway across England to find her. I’ve hardly slept nor ate in the past three days, but I will not stop until I’ve had a chance to speak with her. So, if you don’t mind, let’s just skip the act and tell me where she is.”
Her expression didn’t waver, although a particular hardness entered her eyes. “I understand your concern, Lord Eversleigh, but I think it would be best if you calmed down before you made your passionate declaration. Rest assured, Mara isn’t going anywhere while her friend is lying on his deathbed. If you don’t realize it by now, she’s had a difficult time of it recently. I don’t intend to see her upset further, no matter that you’ve burst in here demanding to see her.”
“And what if my intention is to marry her?” he ground out. “Would that make any difference to you?”
She shrugged. “Not really.”
“I don’t believe this!” Roarke gave a bark of mirthless laughter and stood to pace the room.
“All good things to those who wait, Lord Eversleigh,” The Madame replied smoothly. “Besides, from what I understand, Mara thinks that you detest her.”
“I was going to apologize for that,” he snapped.
Celeste sighed. “I’ve known Miss…er…Miller a long time, ever since we toiled together at the workhouse. While she might appear strong on the outside, she’s quite fragile underneath that veneer. She’s exhausted and is no doubt not thinking clearly. Even if you did apologize, who is to say she would forgive you? My advice is to go home, get some rest yourself, and come back when I send for you.”
“You’re seriously throwing me out?” he asked in disbelief.
“I am,” she returned without a single touch of guilt. “Besides, you’ve waited these past seven years to marry Mara. Are you telling me you can’t wait a few more days to see how Bentley might fare?”
Roarke’s jaw hardened, but he finally relented. “Will you at least tell her I came by?”
She seemed to consider that a moment, before she said abruptly, “No.”
“So then why should I trust you at all?” he grumbled.
“Because it’s for the best for everyone involved,” she smiled coyly. “And because you really have no other choice.”
