They made their way up the steps and down the hall, where William let them into a room that was neat, modish and clearly his. It even smelled like him, shaving soap, clean linens and masculinity. He settled on the edge of the bed. A woman burst through the adjoining door.
Petite, blonde, with an almost unearthly beauty, she looked to be perhaps four years Lanora’s senior. She stopped when she saw them. Her lips broke into a wide smile. She rushed forward and embraced Lanora.
“Welcome.” She stepped back. “I am so happy to meet you. You have no notion how much so. You’re the first friend I’ve had in years.” For all the brightness of her smile, tears stood in her luminous blue eyes.
“Lanora, this is Lady Cecelia Greydrake, my stepmother.”
“Your…” Lanora took the woman in again, with new eyes. “You’re not in the Mediterranean.”
“Heavens, no. Didn’t he tell you?” She raised a hand to her mouth. “He brought you up here without telling you who I am?”
“He promised he had a good explanation,” Lanora said, dazed by the revelation. He hadn’t lied.
Lady Cecelia’s smile would brighten even the dreariest winter day. “And you believed him? Oh, how wonderful.” She looked as if she might shed more tears. “Still, William, how could you—” She broke off as she turned to him. He was pale, his gaze slightly unfocused. “Oh. I see. Not quite yourself.”
Cecelia’s tone remained bright, but Lanora saw worry in her face, the tension that sprang up around her mouth.
“He said you could help him,” Lanora said.
“Yes, likely. I’m good with this sort of thing. I’ve had a lot of time to read, and learn, and plenty of practice on him.” Her worry remained. “I’ll go set Dodger to boiling more water. We’ll need lots of clean linen.”
“How can I help?”
“Get his clothes off, for a start.”
Lanora’s face filled with heat.
“Oh dear. I apologize. I only mean off the top half of him.” Lady Cecelia patted her on the arm. “Will that do? I mean, you’ll be all right baring him to the waist?”
“I’ll offer her encouragement.” William’s voice was amused, but his words strained at the edges.
“He’s losing blood. I need to get my things. I’ll stitch him up, but this is the second time. He’ll run out of skin. You must make sure he stays in bed for at least two weeks this time. Longer, if you can manage it.”
“Yes, of course.” Lanora had no notion how, but she would make sure he healed. This time.
Lady Cecelia gave her an encouraging smile, another pat on the arm.
“Cecelia.” They both turned toward William. “He’s dead.”
“Dead?” The small blonde woman swayed.
Lanora put an arm about her, worried she would topple.
“He’s really dead?” Lady Cecelia whispered.
“He’s really dead.”
Tears filled Lady Cecelia’s eyes. She blinked, sending them skittering down her cheeks. A huge smile lit her face. “Finally,” she said, the word full of a ferocious joy. She gave Lanora a fierce hug and hurried from the room.
Yet another thing in need of explanation, but one look assured Lanora now was not the time for lengthy talks, especially on delicate matters. She moved to stand before William, and steeled herself to do as Lady Cecilia asked.
“I suppose we must start with your coat.”
“Excellent plan. I knew you had a good head on your shoulders.” He smiled at her, though the expression looked pained.
Lanora eased off his coat. Not sure what to do with it, she folded it, bloody side up, and set it on the floor. She hoped it wouldn’t ruin anything. Next, she unbuttoned his green vest, left side streaked with blood. Sight of the blood sent panic through her. How badly was he injured? She pressed her lips into a firm line, worried for him.
Still, with each button on the vest, her face grew hotter. His cravat provided the distraction of a complex knot, but once it was removed and she was confronted with his shirt laces, her heart took up such a rapid beat, she thought she might faint. She couldn’t sort out her emotions. Fear for him was strong, but something else, as well. Something unfamiliar, frightening in its own right.
