He doesn’t complain. His hazel eyes become glued to my face.
Then he clasps my hand and draws my fingers away. “Sweat on your brow. Fevered, too, Lady Hampton? I should be honoredyou found time to come. So many other things an enterprising woman could do.”
“My list says to be here. Knowing my sister, she’s not been out of this room. She needs a respite.”
Scarlett’s gaze shifts between us like the pendulum on our father’s longcase clock. She dips her cloth in the closer bowl. “No, Katherine. I’m fine. His Grace doesn’t need to be upset.”
She begins mopping his brow.
A shaking hand stretches past and grasps my sister’s. “Give Lady Hampton and me a moment of privacy. She’s not here to smother me. Pretty sure. But if she does, have the valet immediately change me into something blue, more regal. My dream. You wear the last thing you have on when you die. Tavis still had the ghastly sheet.”
“You dreamed of Tavis?” Both Scarlett and I say this.
“He comes in dreams like I owe him something.” Jahleel fans his robe. “Don’t want to be in this for eternity. Actually, Katia, if you’ve come to murder me, could you dress me first? I think that’s how Tavis said the afterlife works.”
Scarlett grimaces. “The wild-lettuce tea confuses his speech. He’s said a lot of interesting things about you and Tavis and the Palmerses.”
My cheeks burn at what might’ve been voiced by Jahleel’s memories. “Let me sit with you, Your Grace. I’ll promise to be attentive—”
“Don’t make promises, Lady Hampton, especially ones you have no intention of keeping. We’ve done that before.”
I raise my hand to my heart like I’m swearing an oath. “I will mop your temples and promise not to murder you … today.”
He chuckles and nods to my sister.
Scarlett dips her chin. At this moment, I’m reminded of how close the two are. Lydia won’t be the only one to hate me if Jahleel doesn’t recover.
She waves me to take her seat.
The padding feels warm as I ease into it. “I will care for him like I should’ve.”
I remove the cloth from her fingers and put it in the bowl again. As gently as I can, I pat his brow.
Jahleel purrs like my kitten. “At least you will send me off smiling, Katia.”
My sister hesitates at the ornate footboard. There’s genuine fear in her eyes. Is she scared that Jahleel will die in the next moment, or is this for me? She knows how much I’ve already hurt him.
I want to scream and insist I’ve come in peace, but her caution is deserved. “I will care for him, Scarlett. Please trust me.”
“I’ll be back in a few minutes.” She walks away, yawning. The door makes a soft screech behind her.
I wring the cloth and try to put it again on his brow, but he catches my fingers. The grip is as light as my Lada’s. Georgina’s feeding her in the kitchen. My younger sister is too scared to come. “Yes, Jahleel.”
He swallows hard. “Tell me why you are here, Lady Hampton. Talk.”
“Let me mop your brow. You’re quite warm.”
He relents and lets go. I take the damp cloth and pat his face.
“Katia, I’ve wanted you in my chambers for a while. Never pictured it like this. You fully dressed. Guess beggars cannot be choosy or choosers. Or whatever.”
“When have you ever been a beggar? Jahleel, your mother is the daughter of the tzar’s favorite godson. You’ve never been desperate or so scared you lost your reason.”
His eyes close. He winces, then whispers, “Try begging for your life upon occasion. Humbles a proud man.”
“I have begged for others’ lives—my mother’s, Lydia’s, my brother, Scotland’s, our son’s.”
His eyes open. His hands fist. “At least you can say that aloud now.”
