Devin decided that if he could make a noise of annoyance, then he could make one to ensure her that he was alive. At least, for the moment. After being shot in the chest, he wasn’t sure what shape he was in. He could still be perilously close to death’s door, but he was still on this earth.
He groaned lightly.
“Oh, thank God.” Something was pressed against his lips. “Drink this.” He tried to turn his head away, so she added softly, “It’s just water, I promise.”
He obediently opened his mouth and the cool liquid touched his tongue. He couldn’t have drunk more than a thimble full, but it was enough to make him sigh in relief after he’d swallowed. He hadn’t realized how parched he’d been until then. He tried to say that he wanted more, but his angel seemed to understand, and more of the wonderful drink slid down his throat.
“Is that better?” she soothed.
He attempted a slight nod and must have succeeded, because she rewarded him by placing a gentle kiss upon his forehead. He was immediately transported back in time to when he was a child in Olney, lying on a cot in a hovel of a cottage, but he vividly recalled the press of his mother’s lips next to his hairline before she’d put him to bed. He couldn’t have been more than two or three at the time, as she had passed away before he’d turned five, but some things in life were worth remembering.
“Get some rest now.” A brief caress passed over his hair. “I bet you will feel much more revived when next you wake.”
Devin was sure that a ghost of a smile touched his mouth as he drifted back off into slumber, resting much easier than he had before.
Chapter 5
There was a lump in Constance’s throat when Devin’s breathing turned deep and even, proof that he had fallen back asleep. She had been particularly concerned until that point, as it was the first time he’d woken up in four days. Even when she’d gotten two of the servants from Lady Blessington’s house to assist her with transporting Devin to the furnished residence she’d let at number 37 Weymouth Street in Marylebone, he hadn’t even made a single noise.
Since it had three bedrooms, she’d also invited Mr. House to stay, so that Devin could see a familiar face when he woke. Until today, she’d started to wonder if that was ever going to happen. There had been several times she’d woken to check on him in the middle of the night with the fear that he would have died in his sleep, although she generally traded shifts with Mr. House. Nevertheless, she hadn’t been there when Bull had slipped away and she would always regret that someone wasn’t as least holding his hand when he breathed his last.
But now that Devin had made some sort of response, she was starting to think that the physician Lady Blessington had recommended she call to check on him might have been right after all. He’d told her that he believed her “cousin” would make a full recovery, although the damage to some of the nerves in his chest might not allow him the full use of his left arm. He’d complimented the work that had been done to surgically remove the bullet, to which Luke had merely lifted his brows at her. He’d told her that Tommy, the man who had removed the lead ball, was one of the best sawbones he knew. But to Constance, a butcher wasn’t the same as a true doctor of medicine.
Nevertheless, they had both been relieved to learn that no infection had set in, but he’d left instructions for a poultice should that change, as well as some laudanum that Luke had immediately waved away. “’E doesn’t want it.”
Constance could tell by his tone that there was no arguing with him, so she’d agreed with his decision. After four days of caring for Devin, they had slowly earned a mutual respect for the other. Luke was likely grateful that Devin was in better surroundings, while Constance was just glad that another human was there to take some of the anxiety away from his precarious situation.
She was thankful that Lady Blessington and Count d’Orsay had been so understanding of her plight. She’d had no choice but to tell them of her need to care for Devin and the circumstances surrounding his condition if they had any hope of comprehending why she had to suddenly leave the townhouse. “You must do what is right in your heart,” the countess had said as Constance’s trunk had been loaded into her carriage. “And it’s not as if this is goodbye. We shall still see you around town, of course. I shall still expect the enjoyment of your company at social events.” She’d offered a wink and added, “Rest assured, your ‘cousin’s’ identity shall not be revealed.”
“Shall I take over for a bit?” Luke offered.
Constance turned to him with a weary smile. She glanced at the watch pinned to her dress. “I would appreciate that. A warm, shower bath would be most welcome.”
After she’d remained under the spray until her skin was pink, Constance left the bathing chamber and, after wrapping a robe around her, she entered her room where she donned a nightdress and sat in front of the dressing table. She had just finished brushing out her hair when there was a brisk knock at her door. Without any time to pull up the long tresses, she rushed over and pulled it open.
Luke appeared almost joyous. “He’s awake.”
Constance put a hand to her heart and nodded. “I’ll be right there.” She grabbed another wrap from her wardrobe and put her arms inside, tying it in front as she entered Devin’s room down the hall.
The moment she stepped inside, she halted, because she’d expected to see Devin looking rather pale and listless, but instead, he was propped up in the four-poster, curtained bed, and although his eyes had a slight hollow appearance they were wide open.
He stared directly at her, and although she’d seen him bare-chested when the physician had attended to him, with only a bandage crossing his ribcage and covering his wound, now she couldn’t help but admire his strong, muscular shoulders and broad chest with a sprinkling of dark hair. She could only imagine that as it disappeared below the covers…
Stop that! Constance chided herself, as such thoughts were highly inappropriate, considering the man had nearly died. It was a miracle that he appeared as healthy as he did.
As the minutes ticked by and they merely regarded one another from across the room, Constance knew she should say something, but the only thing she could manage to get out was, “Hallo.”
He opened his mouth, but after a brief frown, he cleared his throat and tried again. “Hey.” It was broken and rusty from disuse, but it was a lovely sound to hear in her opinion.
She smiled at Luke, who nodded in turn.
For once they were in perfect agreement.
Devin would be all right.
My angel.
But truly, when she smiled and something flared to life in the middle of Devin’s chest, such a word didn’t seem strong enough.
