Strong arms slid beneath her and scooped her up into the air. Her head fell against a firm chest, beneath which she could feel the steady beat of Brody’s heart. She clutched at his shirt and held on tight as he crossed the room with her.
When he lowered her into the water a few seconds later, she’d expected to gasp in response to the chill. Instead, she found it a welcome relief from the heat that consumed her. Which could only mean that she really had been in need of cooling down and that he’d been correct to act as he did.
It was thoughtful of him to do so. In fact, his every action so far was proof that he cared for her deeply. Perhaps as deeply as she cared for him? Was such a thing possible after what she’d put him through? He had said he didn’t hate her. After tonight she was inclined to believe him.
But where did that leave them?
He was still a duke and she was still a nobody doing her best to make ends meet. They were completely mismatched.
“Feel a bit better?” he asked. He’d dropped to a crouch beside the tub so his face was level with hers.
“Yes.” It was all she could manage to say.
His hand found her cheek and she pressed herself to it, enjoying the calming effect of his touch. It wouldn’t last. She’d recover and leave his home, return to her own dismal lodgings and get on with life. As would he. Not out of choice perhaps, but out of necessity. He’d realize soon enough that even if he could forgive her for what she’d done, and even if he was still interested in a future with her, it could never be.
Men like him didn’t marry women like her. And she would never be any man’s mistress. Not even his.
Which only made her feel worse when he pressed his lips to her brow. No words were uttered, but the gesture spoke volumes. It conveyed the contents of his heart, shattering hers in the process.
So she wept as he helped her from the tub shortly after. Not so much because of the fever this time, but because of the loss she was already mourning. Oh, how she wished she might have had a Season and come to London as planned. Perhaps she could have met Brody in a ballroom then. Although he would still have been miles above her in social status, at least she’d have had a chance.
“We need to get you into dry clothes.” He was already sweeping her nightgown up over her head while she stood like a statue, no longer caring if he saw her naked. All she wanted was comfort, her inhibitions be damned. “This will have to go too. Do you have others you can use?”
She blinked. “What?”
“The padding for your courses,” he said, drying her with brisk movements. “I’m sorry, but I didn’t realize until now. The water soaked the one you are wearing, so you’ll need to change it before returning to bed.”
Of course.
To her absolute shock and dismay, she wasn’t the least bit embarrassed about him seeing her like this. She was at her worst, stripped of clothing, with her vomit filling a bucket just a few paces away, and blood about to stain the sheets unless he helped her stop it. Ordinarily, she probably would have leapt from the nearest window in shame, but she was beyond caring about the pathetic state she was in.
The only thing on her mind was returning to bed and getting more rest.
“Check my bag. The padding should be at the bottom.”
He wrapped the towel tightly around her and went to search through her things. She watched in stupefied silence. The situation was so incredibly strange it almost felt like a dream.
“Here we are.” He held up one hand and glanced at her over his shoulder. “What do you use to hold it in place?”
“There should be some long lengths of linen.”
He rummaged around some more and finally stood, a victorious look on his face as he showed her the items he’d found. And then he suddenly laughed while shaking his head. “Sorry, but this is by far the oddest situation I’ve ever found myself in.”
She managed a tiny grin despite feeling slightly dizzy. “I was…thinking…the same.”
All traces of humor vanished from his expression, and he was suddenly there, steadying her before she lost her balance. “Let’s finish up so you can lie down. Don’t overthink it, just let me help.”
It took her a second to grasp his meaning, but as soon as she did she almost bolted, jerking to one side so quickly she nearly tumbled back into the tub.
Leaning back, she stuck out her palm to keep him at a safe distance. “I…I can manage. Thank you.”
He gave her a skeptical look though his shoulders did droop with what looked like relief. Nevertheless, he told her gently, “It’s nothing to fuss about. Least of all in the state you’re in.”
Was he mad?
“I am not letting you help me with this,” she gritted, forcing all of her strength into each word. “Just…leave the padding and bindings there, on that stool, and I…I’ll take care of it.”
He did not look convinced. “You can barely keep yourself upright.”
