“It’s fine,” she said, deciding it would be selfish of her to make him work for no reason besides her own gratification.
“Are you sure?” His touch gentled, but he didn’t pull away.
Louise’s nerves tightened while sparks darted through her. “I, um…”
Lord help her, she could not find the right words - had no clue what they might be since she’d lost her hold on the situation several seconds ago. Was it possible he was enjoying this as much as she?
“Lying in bed for extended periods of time can be surprisingly hard on the body.” He returned the foot he’d been working on to the mattress and picked up the other. “Hence the cramp.”
Louise’s heart knocked about wildly. Was he being her physician right now, or something more? She’d no idea and was somehow afraid of the answer. Because that would mean having to face a far more difficult question: which would she prefer?
With a slight shake of her head, she dislodged the answer that threatened to ruin the yearnings of her heart by filling her head with confusion. She had enough to deal with right now without falling for someone her father would never allow her to marry.
And why was she even contemplating this when her mind was set on Mr. Fairbanks? In all likelihood she was a bit muddled because Mr. Berkly had helped her in ways no one else ever had. It was only natural she would be impressed by him and feel more than mere gratitude. After all, if this worked, he would have saved her from future operations and from the fear of eventually going completely blind.
“Do you feel your muscles relaxing?” he asked in a near whisper.
God yes.
“I think so,” she said.
He continued rubbing her foot for a while before setting it down and tucking the covers around her. The maid arrived with Louise’s food in the next instant, allowing her a much needed reprieve from the sensual turmoil she’d endured.
“Please set it down on the table,” Mr. Berkly said.
“Hannah usually places it here on the bed beside me so I can reach,” Louise told him when she heard the tray being placed on the same table he’d used for his tools during her surgery.
“I thought I’d bring the plate over and help you select what you’d like. Would that not be easier for you?”
“I’m sure the food has been carefully cut and arranged so I can manage, but you’re right. It would be easier if you helped.” There would be less fiddling about, which would make her eating experience less messy.
Curiously, she’d always insisted she manage alone. She wasn’t an invalid, after all, merely visually impaired. The reason she’d practiced doing everything blindfolded was so she would not have to rely upon anyone else. And yet, she didn’t mind Mr. Berkly’s assistance. Perhaps because he didn’t treat her as if she were less than the person she’d always been because she could not see. By contrast, her parents had always addressed her as if she’d become an imbecile overnight whenever the couching had failed and she’d lost her sight again.
The mattress dipped and she realized with a start that he’d taken a seat on the edge of the bed.
“There’s cheese, bacon, tomato slices, some eggs, and toast. Which would you like to start with?”
“Bacon sounds good.”
The fork scraped the plate and then, “If you could please open your mouth.”
She did as instructed and let him feed her. The meat’s smoky flavor slid over her tongue and produced a satisfying crunch as she bit into it. Eggs and toast followed, then a slice of tomato and more bacon until only the cheese remained. Mr. Berkly handed her a piece so she could eat it unaided.
“I’ll get you some tea,” he said once she’d finished her food. When he returned, he helped her drink with the same degree of care he’d applied before.
The experience as a whole was incredibly intimate. In an odd way, it made her feel closer to him than she’d ever felt to anyone else. Or perhaps it wasn’t only this, but a combination of everything she’drecently faced with him by her side.
Needing to dispel the forceful emotions he stirred in her for fear of what they might mean, she folded her hands in her lap and asked, “Let’s begin with the German alphabet, shall we?”
Half an hour later, Marcus was being quizzed on his pronunciation while Lady Louise either nodded her approval or corrected him. He wasn’t sure what he’d been thinking earlier when he’d chosen to massage her feet. She’d had a cramp and he’d used that to allow added contact between them. And since he’d not wanted the closeness to end, he’d promptly proceeded to feed her, even though he knew from the Winterlys and from her maid that Lady Louise had been managing fine on her own.
“You’re making excellent progress,” Lady Louise declared when he remembered how the ‘j’ was pronounced and somehow forced his tongue into the shape required to make the right sound. “Let’s try the numbers now from one to ten. Repeat after me. Eins, zwei, drei…”
Marcus did his best to speak every word correctly, not only for his own sense of accomplishment but because it was so rewarding to watch his tutor smile with appreciation and hear the joy in her voice as she praised him for his efforts. His progress pleased her and this, in turn, pleased him tremendously. And as the morning wore on, he developed an overwhelming need to impress her, to let her know her attempts to teach him weren’t wasted, to bask in the pleasure he saw on her face when she tested his knowledge and he answered with flair.
“We can continue after luncheon,” she said when Mr. Winterly arrived with the daily paper he meant to read for Lady Louise. “I’ll teach you some basic phrases.”
Doing his utmost not to reveal his desire for more time alone with her, Marcus met Mr. Winterly’s gaze on his way to the door. “I’ll leave you to convey the news of the day to her ladyship.”
