Grabbing the pitcher that stood on the bedside table, Gabriella poured a glass of water and held it to Juliette’s lips. “She needs handkerchiefs,” she told Raphe. “Her nose is runny.”
He was back with a stack of handkerchiefs before Juliette had finished drinking. Unfolding one, he handed it to his sister and helped her sit. “Thank you,” Juliette told them both a short while later. Her smile trembled and her eyes were red.
“Please try to eat something,” Gabriella urged. Picking up the bowl of soup, she perched herself on the edge of the bed and dipped the spoon into the broth. “You need the nourishment.”
Coughing between each spoonful, Juliette managed to eat a third of the soup before eventually slumping back against the pillows. She looked exhausted. “Perhaps you should try and sleep some more,” Gabriella suggested. Without thinking, she reached down to brush Juliette’s hair away from the side of her face, and stilled.
“What is it?” Raphe asked from the opposite side of the bed.
Gabriella stared down at Juliette’s face where blotches of pink were beginning to spread. “I don’t think this is influenza,” she said. Setting the soup aside, she spoke with greater insistence. “Help me. Hold her upright so I can get a better look.”
“I don’t—”
“Stop arguing, would you?” The note of authority with which she spoke seemed to do the trick. Raphe didn’t question her any further. Instead he brought Juliette into a sitting position, holding her steady while Gabriella pulled at her chemise. She brought it up until Juliette’s back had been completely exposed. Raphe gasped.
“What is it?” Juliette asked, her voice weak with sickness.
“This looks like measles to me,” Gabriella said. “Which means I can’t get sick from it. What about you?”
“I had measles when I was a lad,” Raphe replied. “Same time Amelia had it. Before Juliette was born.”
Nodding in understanding, Gabriella lowered Juliette’s chemise back down so Raphe could help her get settled. A moment later, she was fast asleep once more. “This is my fault,” he said. “I should have taken better care of her—protected her more.”
“And deny her any freedom?” Gabriella quietly asked. She felt for him, but she was also fairly certain that his solution would make his sister miserable. “People get sick, Raphe, and then they get better. She will get through this.”
His face twisted with too much misery for Gabriella to bear. Rising from the bed, she went to where he was standing. Uncertain of what to do but knowing she had to do something, she came to a halt before him. Tentatively, she extended her hand toward his, her fingers carefully requesting permission. Their eyes met, and Gabriella’s breath caught, freezing her in place. There was so much agony to be found there, but there was also a desperate plea for comfort that very nearly broke her heart. Nobody should have to feel as alone as he did at that moment.
So rather than take his hand in hers as she’d initially intended, she flung her arms around his neck and pulled him to her in a tight embrace. It was unplanned—completely inappropriate by most standards—but it also felt right. A moment of startled silence followed, and then he hugged her back, his arms tight about her waist while his head pressed against the curve of her neck.
He was just as solid as she remembered—a perfect fit for her softer curves. And the way he smelled . . . there was something so familiar, so heartwarmingly welcoming that she already mourned the moment when she’d have to step back and let him go.
It came sooner than she’d wanted, but this was a sickroom. Juliette needed their attention. She should not be thinking of being held by the Duke of Huntley, or of how wonderful it had felt. Her treacherous mind would not let her forget it, though. Nor would it deny her the thought of what it had been like to feel his lips upon hers. Oh, how she longed to be kissed by him again.
She moved to turn away, to add some distance, but he caught her by the wrist and held her fast. “Thank you,” he murmured. His hand loosened, and his fingers trailed a slow path up and down her arm. Gabriella shivered, but not from cold. Her chest rose and fell with unsteady movements. And then she felt his fingers against her cheek—a tender caress that made heat fan out across her skin, while her heart made a funny little leap and her tummy seemed to fold itself into a fizzing mess of nerves.
He dropped his hand and took a step back, breaking the moment. Gabriella flinched, then hurried over to Juliette to check on the compress. Anything to keep her jumbled mind from turning her into a stuttering fool.
They didn’t speak anymore. Not until much later, when Juliette had woken again, eaten some soup and fallen back to sleep. “I should probably return home,” Gabriella said as she checked the time. It was past supper now, and staying overnight would really be pushing the boundaries of propriety. “And you should get some rest, Raphe. Now that we know what it is, Amelia can help watch her for a while.”
He looked dubious. “I don’t want to leave her. What if—”
“You look exhausted, and you won’t be any good to her if you’re asleep when she wakes.”
Conceding her point, he gave a reluctant nod. “Very well. I’ll ring for someone to fetch Amelia.”
Gabriella stayed until Amelia arrived so she could help explain the situation. She then bid them all a good night and prepared to leave.
“Wait a moment,” Raphe said. He muttered something to Amelia that Gabriella couldn’t hear before joining her at the door. “Have a drink with me first.”
The request caught her completely unawares. Her mouth dropped open. She wanted to but knew she shouldn’t. “I . . . I don’t—”
“Please.”
The honest plea in his eyes achieved what words could not. Gabriella nodded. “Very well, but then I really must be on my way.”
“Agreed.”
He led the way back downstairs where Gabriella found Anna still waiting for her in the hall. “My lady,” she said, rising to greet her. “Is Lady Juliette all right?”
