Page 22

A sleepy maid slipped in, probably having just risen herself. Uncertainty and worry creased her plump face until she noticed Georgine. At once, a relieved smile swept her wide mouth upward. “’Tis good to see you awake, miss.”

“Thank you.” What else was Georgine supposed to say?

“I’m utterly spent and scarcely fit for polite company,” or “I’m so fatigued, I might as well be pressed into the carpet?”

The maid turned her attention to her employer.

“You rang, Mr. Fitzlloyd?”

“Yes, Nelly.” Robyn rubbed his nose.

He appeared fit to swoon from sheer fatigue.

“Miss Thackerly is hungry. Cook knows what she can eat. Please bring a tray. She also wishes to bathe, wash her hair, and have the bed linens changed. Do you think those can be accommodated?”

“Of course, sir.” Nelly gave an eager nod. “I shall make the arrangements.”

“Also, please see if my sister has risen.” Robyn covered a yawn with his hand.

The poor man appeared utterly spent.

“I need a bath myself, and I know Matilda wanted to know when Miss Thackerly awoke.”

“I’ll see to it at once, sir.” With a little bob, Nelly practically dashed from the bedchamber.

Georgine tipped her mouth into a wry half-smile. “I’ll bet she’s sprinting down the corridor, skirts raised to her knees, to alert the house to my present state.”

Not particularly keen on being the center of attention, Georgine found her current situation disconcerting for multiple reasons, one of which was the Ladies of Opportunity. She counted on the funds from the wagers to help sustain her income.

Had her friends held meetings without her?

Had wagers been accepted?

Of course, they had.

And then there was Robyn’s knowledge of their covert society.

Did he know Matilda had recently joined the Ladies of Opportunity as a board member?

Likely not.

Robyn would not approve.

As soon as Doctor Tinsdale agreed she could have visitors, Georgine would request that Aubriella, Roxina, and Claire call. Surely, they had wagering details to share with her.

She quite enjoyed the various clever wagers, and it never failed to amuse her how silly some were, although ladies seemed less inclined to bet which fly could walk up a pane of glass the fastest or the number of cats crossing St. James Street in one hour than men were.

Probably because women had much less coin to waste.

“I know you asked for your sister and friends not to know about the infection, but it was impossible to keep it a secret from the staff.” Robyn gave an unapologetic shrug. “Doctor Tinsdale had them preparing many concoctions and poultices. It didn’t take a sleuth to deduce your wound had become putrid. They were all tremendously worried on your behalf.”

Georgine wasn’t vexed, and, in truth, found their concern touching. “I was mainly concerned about Regina and my friends working themselves into a froth when there was nothing they could do.”

“Poor Mittie.” He chuckled, the sound resonating in his broad chest. “She has kept them informed of your progress, and more than once, she admitted, she almost gave the game away.” He cast a fond glance toward the closed door. “My sister is not a master of deception. She’s more apt to blab the truth accidentally, but she kept your little secret.”

“I owe her my gratitude. For that and for attending to my care.” Georgine stretched her calves. God, what she wouldn’t do to rise from this bed. “I am confident she has been a diligent nurse.”

Robyn’s features softened. “She has, at that, to the point I insisted she go to bed before she collapsed from exhaustion.”