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At the moment, she felt distinctly more slothful.

“Let’s see about getting you something to eat, shall we?” He rose and stretched, and despite her feeling as limp as yesterday’s posies, Georgine could not help but admire his muscled physique.

“Thin gruel? Weak broth? Barely water?” She scrunched her nose, trying to ignore the throbbing pain in her shoulder. Yes, she sounded ungrateful, and after fasting for four days, her stomach probably could handle nothing more substantial, but how she wanted to chew. “I would prefer something more palatable. A nice pudding or custard?”

“Not unless the doctor approves.” The compassionate upward sweep of his mouth made her tummy flutter.

What in the world had come over her?

Hunger.

That was what.

She was famished. Lightheaded. Not able to think clearly.

Nothing else.

“How would you like a bath and your hair washed? You cannot get into a tub, of course, but I’m sure something can be arranged.” He glanced at the wrinkled linens. “Fresh linens, too, I think.”

The idea pleased Georgine so much, she couldn’t contain her pleased smile or summon a jot of offense at the implication she might not be as fresh as one could desire. She would endure the pain and humiliation to be clean. “That sounds heavenly.”

“Excellent.” Robyn gave another brief nod as he turned toward the bellpull. After tugging on the cord, he added a couple of pieces of wood to the fire.

“I’m sure you shall want the chamber warm for your ablutions,” he said by way of an explanation.

Georgine considered him from beneath her lashes.

Why had he stayed with her and not Matilda or a maid, which would have been more appropriate? He’d neatly avoided answering the question, and she was fairly certain that if she pressed him, he would do so again.

Why?

“Now that your fever has broken, I’ll wager you’ll be up and about in no time.” He leaned a broad shoulder against the fireplace mantel. “Speaking of wagers, what is this ladies’ gambling enterprise that you and your friends are involved with?”

Georgine’s heart skipped a beat before accelerating.

How did he know about the Ladies of Opportunity?

Surely Matilda hadn’t told her brother.

When Aubriella had invited Matilda to join their small troupe, she had emphasized secrecy and tact.

As the Ladies of Opportunity became increasingly known and more ladies took part in the discreet wagering, it only made sense that word would spread about the clandestine organization.

Still, that Robyn would boldly ask about it unnerved Georgine.

Georgine must speak with her friends about this as soon as possible. Until then, she must deflect without outright lying. She abhorred liars.

Canting her head, she shook a finger at him and affected a playful mien.

“That is not something I can discuss with you.” She painted a pained expression upon her features—not a great stretch given the fierce ache in her shoulder—and affected fatigue and frailty. Again, easy to do. “Particularly given I’ve only just roused from a four-day stupor.”

She let that point hit home.

At once, chagrin flashed across the sculpted planes of Robyn’s face, although a hint of something steely lingered in his eyes, as if he’d guessed her game but let her win this round. “Of course. Please forgive my lack of sensitivity.”

A moment later, a brief rap echoed upon the bedchamber door.

“Come.” Straightening, Robyn angled toward the entrance.