“I heard the door. I… I thought you’d left.”
Her brows furrowed. “Left.” Her eyes darted to the bed. “Good heavens. Serena. She’s gone.” She started to rise and apparently realized how inappropriately she was attired. She clutched her wrap at the neck. “You’ll have to go after her.”
“I’m sure all is well,” he said. Unnatural color heightened her cheeks.
“I-I cannot get into any of those frocks without her assistance.”
He gave her a sly glance. “If I can help you out of them, I can certainly assist you into them.”
She shot him a quelling look that had him swallowing back a laugh. When had he ever felt like laughing first thing in the morning? Never, that he could recall. “I’ll wander below. And”—he looked her over—“order you a bath and food. You don’t look so well.” Sebastian pulled the door shut on her huff of outrage, then tucked in his shirt, found his boots and waist coat. Lastly, he pulled a cravat around his neck and tied a simple knot. He wasn’t at his most pristine either, but for a country inn, his less than formal appearance would suffice.
Two levels down he found Serena being interrogated by none other than Oxford’s new duchess, lauding questions like precisely timed musket balls from a line of well-trained British Cavalry. “Do you know who I am, young woman? You are a disgrace as a lady’s maid. Why, if I had a maid half as lazy as you, I would turn you out on your ear,withouta reference. You aren’t even dressed appropriately. I demand to speak with Ryleigh’s wife. Her Grace, the Duchess of Ryleigh, immediately.”
Sebastian had heard enough. “That is quite enough, madam.” He met Serena’s widened eyes. “That will be all. See to your mistress, Serena. I’ll order breakfast and a bath.”
Serena hurried back up the stairs and Sebastian turned to the duchess and affected his haughtiest, most ducal look down his nose.
She was not intimidated. She took his arm. “Oxford and I were hoping to break our fast with you and your new bride, Your Grace.”
He extracted himself. “I fear that is impossible, madam. My… er, wife, is indisposed. She fell ill while caring for her own maid.”
“She cared forher own maid?” she said incredulously.
“There was no one else for the task. As it is, my duchess has a generous spirit, as I’m sure you understand. Now, if you’ll pardon me, I must speak to the innkeepers and return to her side.”
“But—”
He inclined his head in a shallow bow and went on the hunt for the innkeepers, leaving the woman in a sputter. And wondering why he hadn’t mentioned Rebecca’s name to cement his newly formed plans for her. It would have been so easy.
~~~
Rebecca’s entire body ached. She needed to rise and attempt to dress before Ryleigh returned but was bereft of energy. And hot. She was very hot. And cold. Hot and cold. She leaned her head back against the chair and closed her eyes. Just for a second…
“Good God. Rebecca, wake up.”
She groaned and did her best to shake off the beast accosting her. Her arms didn’t want, or seem able, to cooperate at pushing him away.
“What happened to your arm?” he said in a low voice, but she couldn’t answer. “Bugger. You are burning up. Quick, Serena. Clear the bed in the outer chamber. I’ll move her ladyship there.”
In an instant, Rebecca was spinning in the air, plunging her stomach in a dangerous lurch.
A whimper sounded, though for the life of her, Rebecca could not pry her eyes open. She couldn’t tell if it was Serena or herself who’d emitted the sound.
“I suspect whatever bug you’d contracted has latched onto your mistress.” The words, intended to reassure, distressed her maid, and Rebecca could hear Serena’s soft, remorseful cry. There was no opportunity to chastise the duke for this thoughtless statement. In the next instant, Rebecca was casting up her accounts with no will of her own to forestall the event.
“Don’t fret, Serena. She’ll get through this.” He said this so gently, so confidently, even Rebecca believed him and gave up all need to control the situation. Sebastian would see things through. It was an unnerving sensation, giving up one’s power to another. She didn’t know how to relinquish control—another spasm wracked her, and she had to resort to being comforted by his words, his presence.
I’m still infatuated, she thought as he wiped her mouth and forehead. A second later he was laying her back down and she found herself sliding into a dreamless slumber.
~~~
Whatever ailment had hit Rebecca’s maid was ravaging Rebecca three times harder. She’d cast up accounts until Sebastian feared she would wither up and die. He was beside himself to know what to do. It was past midnight and her maid lay sleeping on the settee in front of the hearth, refusing to leave Rebecca completely to his independent care as he took over keeping Rebecca’s head and wrists cooled with a damp cloth. Serena, thankfully, seemed to have recovered almost completely.
The candle’s low illumination bathed the suite in a warm glow that would have been romantic under other circumstances. He used that low light to study the horrendous scar on the inside of her forearm. Someone had taken a tool to that lovely skin and desecrated it. He ran a fingertip over the mangled, discolored skin. The scar covered a good portion of the inside of her forearm. Not the entire area but a solid three quarters. He laid his lips against the scraggily lines, wondering who she’d slayed and for whom. If there was one thing he was quickly understanding about Lady Rebecca Thatcher, is that she had no care for her own self-preservation when it came to defending those weaker than her. And not a man. She didn’t consider men weak, except perhaps in the head, and, therefore, in no need of her defending.
To his surprise, the scar itself did not feel the least bit feverish. He set the back of his hand against her head and winced. Still hot as hades. He set to work. Her face was chalky white.
He dipped a cloth in the bowl of cool water and ran it over her cheeks, her forehead, her temple—then stopped—stunned a second time by the discovery of another scar. This one was a thin, ragged, tear. He traced it with his forefinger, instinctively knowing how much it had bled. He wanted her to wake so he could rail at her for her carelessness, then kiss her senseless to make her feel better. Had someone hit her, or had she fallen out of a tree?
