“You think I might deliberately misbehave in order to spend more time in your company?” he asked. Shifting his gaze away from the tempting contents of the tray, he looked up at her and felt his heartbeats echoing through him. Christ, she was lovely. “Even though doing so would involve submitting myself to your will?”
A choked sound rose from her throat. “Of course not.” Her cheeks were turning a fascinating shade of pink. “That would be ridiculous.”
“Would it?” He stared at her boldly, appreciating the small gasp she made and how the air seemed to crackle between them. A pity she wasn’t a possible choice when it came to his future wife. Because although he placed little weight on titles and rank since he’d rather consider character first, he wasn’t free to marry whomever he pleased. Not as an earl’s heir and not when he was trying to restore his own reputation. Indeed, the woman he chose to marry would have to be as respectable as they came and of good social standing. It would also help a great deal if she wasn’t already married.
He laughed when he realized how shocked she looked. “I jest, Mrs. Cartwright.”
Relief swept over her features. “Of course you do.” She took a step back.
“I’ve never enjoyed eating alone. It would give me great pleasure if you would remain here with me for a while and keep me company.” Surely there was no harm in that. She glanced at the door as if salvation waited beyond it. Henry took a deep breath and then spoke the one word he hoped might sway her. “Please?”
Her eyes met his and he saw in them her struggle with indecision. When she eventually slid her gaze across to the vacant chair beside his bed and nodded, joy fizzed through his veins like rich champagne.
“I cannot stay long, Mr. Lowell. I am expected home for dinner.”
“I see.” The joy turned to flat disappointment. Her husband was probably waiting for her to join him. Attempting a smile to hide his true feelings, yet determined to do the right thing, he said, “Now that I know this, it would be thoughtless of me to desire your company. If you would rather—”
“No. It is quite all right.” She picked the tray up again and waited for him to reposition himself before placing it in his lap. Lifting the lid off the plate, she set it aside and lowered herself to the chair. “It must be dull to remain abed all day, so I can appreciate your need for conversation.”
What he appreciated was she, but he refrained from saying as much. Instead Henry took a bite of his food. It wasn’t the best pork roast he’d ever had, but it was certainly good enough. Why, it was almost as if the flavor was diminishing the ache from his wound as he chewed. He washed the meat down with a sip of his wine.
“Your husband is a lucky fellow, Mrs. Cartwright.” He proceeded to cut a potato, once lengthwise and then across, before dipping each piece in the gravy and making a very deliberate effort not to look directly at her. Her silence was pulling his muscles and tendons together in tight knots of tension.
“I’m not married,” she finally said.
Henry’s entire body relaxed. This new information shouldn’t make a difference to him since he’d already determined that there were other reasons for him not to pursue her. Yet knowing she was available flooded his mind with extreme satisfaction, even though he knew it was wrong, considering what her words meant.
“You’re a widow.”
“Yes.”
Carefully, he raised his gaze and was slightly surprised to find her studying him. A wave of heat washed over his skin even as she glanced away in an obvious effort to hide her interest. “Then who’s waiting for you with dinner?” he asked, and proceeded to eat some more meat.
She cleared her throat and shifted in her seat. “A couple of friends with whom I share my home.” A soft smile pulled at her lips. “Life can be hard for a woman with no prospects. I felt compelled to take them in when they told me of their troubles.”
Henry frowned. “As kind as that makes you, it also suggests you were living alone for a while before these friends of yours came to join you.”
“I was,” she confirmed. “For almost a year.”
Henry set his fork down and stared at her. “That is most unusual, Mrs. Cartwright, not to mention unsafe. Especially when considering your young age and your beauty.” Had she no family who cared what people might think of an unmarried woman living alone without a companion? Was there nobody to offer her some protection?
“Perhaps I am not as young as you think, Mr. Lowell. As for my beauty...” She took a deep breath while allowing her fingers to toy with the fabric of her gown. When they stilled, she said, “I thank you for the compliment, but I know I am not the sort to turn heads. You may rest assured that I have been perfectly safe from harm until now.”
“But what of your reputation? Even if you are older than twenty, which is what I imagine your age to be, a respectable young woman does not live alone, no matter what.” He realized he was suddenly angry, not at her but on her behalf. She’d obviously been neglected by those who ought to have her best interests at heart or...
“You do not know my circumstances well enough to place judgment, nor are you entitled to do so.” She spoke calmly but with an edge of authority to her voice. “As you are my patient, it is my duty to care for you and ensure your recovery, but my personal life outside this hospital is none of your concern. Unless, of course, you wish for me to reproach you for your affairs.”
Damn the tabloids and damn his stupid attempt at ruining his own reputation. He’d done it so successfully that Mrs. Cartwright had labeled him a reprobate scoundrel right from the start. “None of the rumors you’ve heard about me are true,” he told her, even though he doubted she would believe him.
“What about your affair with Lady Elmwood.”
He blew out a breath. “The earl is jealous of any man who talks to his wife. It was a misunderstanding.”
“And I suppose all of your other exploits described in the newspapers over the years are false as well and that you are instead a saint?” She stood, collected the tray from his lap and set it aside on the table. “I am not a fool, Mr. Lowell. The fact that even I am aware of your poor reputation can only mean one thing.”
He dared not ask and yet he had to know. “And what is that?”
Flattening her lips, she looked at him with eyes that held little hope for his salvation. “You are notorious and probably far more dangerous than I would ever have imagined possible before I met you.”
