The Distinguished Rogues Bundle

by Heather Boyd

  Her nurses did not always talk. The current one did not. Lilly only learned of things from her papa as he gently reminded her what day it was, where they were, and read parts of the newssheet to her until she fell asleep again.

  Lilly frowned, momentarily swamped by confusion until she remembered she was at Cottingstone Manor. She breathed easy—she’d loved this place as a child. While her parents had dined and chatted the day away, she had slipped out to enjoy what little freedom she could find.

  As the only child in residence, she had spent hours alone in the nursery, playing with the boy’s toys she’d found and writing secrets in her journal. Not that she had many secrets, but she had pretended her journal was a friend. She’d always wished for one. Wolfhounds did not count.

  A yip gained her attention. There was Atticus again, his long muzzle shot through with grey, feet twitching in sleep. He’d grown bigger than she’d ever imagined he would become. She smiled, but became immediately aware that she ached all over.

  Pain was a familiar sensation she expected but tried her best to ignore. No matter how the doctors had prodded and poked, nothing took the pain away except for laudanum. But the potion also took the world away.

  Another memory rose. A spoon placed gently against her lips. A flurry of anxious words. Usually the nurses where very grim about her consumption of the stuff, but the voice she remembered held kindness.

  Papa had left her alone.

  Lilly’s heart stilled. He had not once left her side for more than a few hours since the accident. He’d said he would be gone for days, maybe longer. She gingerly removed her arm from the blankets and reached for the dog, twisting her fingers into his shaggy coat and securing them over his ear.

  She would not cry, but she was suddenly very afraid at a memory that rose up to fill her with dread, shattering the little bit of peace she had that day. It was a memory she had long wanted to forget.

  Her mama had whispered, “If you cannot get better, then you may as well be dead. You are nothing I can take any pride in.” Pain had blinded her then. She couldn’t breathe or see. The next thing Lilly remembered were her parents screaming at each other across her bed, shooting pain arcing down her spine and into her skull as she struggled for breath.

  That was the last time she had seen her home or her mother. Papa had never taken her back.

  A wet tongue dragged across her wrist, breaking her thoughts. Atticus had woken and was inching toward her, sad eyes searching her face. She moved her wrist away from his tongue, tugging him tightly to her side. Blinding pain gripped her so she closed her eyes, breathing through her mouth to survive it. When the spasms had passed and she could open her eyes again, the dog’s nose was inches from her own.

  Lilly pushed his muzzle away until he settled beside her. Needing his comforting presence, she laid her arm around him and squeezed as much as she could without causing more pain.

  It was wonderful to touch another warm being. It happened so rarely. Papa was so careful not to aggravate her injuries that he only ever skimmed her brow to check for fever.

  She squinted at what she could see without moving. A pretty, rose pink room surrounded her, perhaps one of the guest rooms on the first floor. Lilly liked the room very much, but wished it were darker.

  Her pulse throbbed behind her eyes and she fought to ignore the warning sign of an impending headache. It was not often that she could appreciate the places she stayed, but the room was lovely.

  Chicken broth.

  She remembered sipping chicken broth from a blue-edged bowl and suddenly wished for some more. Her tongue rasped dry over her lips at the memory. The warm liquid had slipped down easily, but she had become full so soon, and tired too.

  Atticus had been beside her, but further away from her than normal. She remembered the sharp, sweet smell of sickness, but the memory lurched and merged with others. She remembered old faces, Lady Daventry’s portrait, and carpet under her cheek. She shrugged away the memory, fearing it might never make sense.

  Lilly moved a little, trying to ease the uncomfortable pressing of her full bladder. There was no help for it; she would have to call the nurse. But what was her name? Lilly wracked her brain. Dibbs. Yes, that’s right.

  She took a quick breath and turned herself toward the direction she thought the chamber pot might be. While sharp knives of pain sliced through her head, she remembered another arm around her, strong like Papa, but different.

  A man had held her. His scent had soothed her nerves, his deep voice had rumbled through her ribs. But she had been unable to see the body that owned the voice. He had used her name, too. He’d begged her to eat the soup so he did not have to. That warm body had cradled hers as she sipped the broth, his breath fanning over her cheek, keeping the chill of night at bay.

  A firm hand had held her head gently against a hard chest, soothing the skin of her cheek and jaw. Those same fingers had stroked her neck, too, taking away her dizziness and replacing it with peace. Papa never did that. He would never think to rub her feet or slip stockings over her cold toes.

  Cold . . . she remembered being cold. She shook her head suddenly, but the action pulled a whimper from her throat. After all this time, she should know better. Little movements were all she could manage.

  When she opened her eyes, she faced the foot of the bed on the other side, but there was still no sign of the nurse. Turning her head the remaining distance, she took in the rest of the room and gasped.

  There was no nurse in the room. Instead, sprawled out on a chair close to the bed was a ginger-haired Adonis, the most beautiful man Lilly had ever seen, and she had seen a fair bit of this one. Giles Wexham slept beside her bed, between her and the bare window. For a moment, she was distracted by the unusual sight of the early morning sunrise, but she quickly returned to Giles.

  In sleep, the lines around his eyes were softer, the ginger stubble on his jaw longer than she had ever seen it. His hair was disordered, his clothes rumpled, but that was not an unusual appearance for him. She gazed at him in speechless wonder. What was he doing here?

  Startling blue eyes opened, and she pulled her arm away from Atticus to watch Giles waking from sleep. He was a very beautiful man, but so very wicked. He regarded her in silence, his eyes never leaving hers for the longest time.

  Lilly understood why she did not speak. Giles’ presence always rendered her mute, but she knew he liked to talk, especially to women. She had observed Giles, while remaining hidden from society, watching him charm and conquer society with the ease of one sure of his appeal.

  Giles moved slowly, a sleek predator even by day. He drew close to her side, and she had to adjust the angle of her head to keep him in view. Pain lanced through her skull.

  When her vision cleared, she found Giles leaning over her, enveloping her in warmth and the scent of clean male. Oh, he was wonderful. Whatever it was he bathed in helped her relax into the mattress once more.

  It was a little unnerving to have him so close, though. She was not used to gentlemen, but a buzz of pleasure fizzled through her at his undivided attention. His face slowly creased into a smile so unlike what she was used to seeing. He looked pleased to see her and she smiled in return.

  Lilly saw his eyes dip down to her mouth. Surprise held her still until she wondered how long it had been since she’d scratched at her teeth. She pressed her lips together.

  “Hello, Lilly.” Giles spoke her name softly, and warmth spread over her limbs.

  “Hello, Giles.”

  His even, white teeth were as blinding as the light. “It is good to see you awake. I was beginning to worry. Your dreams must have been wonderful to sleep for so long.”

  “I don’t remember dreaming.”

  He straightened, but didn’t leave her line of sight. “I appear to have lost my dog to you. What sorcery have you over the beast, fair maiden? Atticus has barely left your side in days.”

  She did not dare turn her head for fear of causing more pain. “He is a
very good dog, Giles. He was kind to me when I was here last.”

  “Yes, I heard about that. I apologize for the damage he caused your limbs.”

  “He was kind to a child left alone for much of the house party. We had a great deal of fun together. It was my last great adventure.” Lilly slowly reached to touch the dog, sweat breaking out across her face at the effort of keeping silent. “Call the nurse, Giles. I have need of her.”

  Giles frowned, erasing the friendly face she had just started to get used to. “I am afraid you are looking at your temporary nurse. The blasted woman up and left your employ in the dead of night. She abandoned you.”

  Lilly’s mind whirled. She needed to get out of bed and relieve herself. Giles could not be her nurse. “Call for a maid, or the housekeeper.”

  “I cannot do that either. They are busy elsewhere.”

  “Oh, no,” Lilly sobbed, struggling to free herself from the heavy blankets, hissing as pain and the ever-present nausea swamped her.

  “What the devil are you doing?” Giles gripped her shoulders. She winced as the pressure twisted her body to a position it did not like.

  “I need privacy.” Lilly pulled the covers back, but could not suppress a groan as spears of pain stabbed down her limbs.

  “Privacy for what, for God’s sake?”

  “Just have to . . . ” She could not say it aloud—not to him.

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake.” Strong arms scooped her up, holding her close to that calming scent. Lilly closed her eyes over her tears. “Where is it you need to go?”

  “The chamber pot,” she whispered, humiliation heating her cheeks.

  She had just asked the most handsome man she had ever laid eyes on to help with such a personal matter. Could her circumstances sink any lower?

  His movements jarred her body. His loud steps assaulted her mind. He eased her downward, but just before touching down, the fabric of her nightgown slid out from beneath her bottom.

  If pain hadn’t robbed her of sight already, she wouldn’t be able to look at him. Thankfully, his loud steps hinted that he’d moved far away.

  When she was comfortable again, she gathered her strength to stand, but Giles returned. He swept her up without a word, took her back to bed, and tucked her in with more care than any nursemaid ever had.

  “What can I get you, Lilly?”

  He pushed her sweat-damp hair from her face then patted soft linen against her skin. Unwilling to see the pity in his gaze, she kept her eyes closed. She was such a failure as a woman.

  As the pain settled down again, bare fingertips brushed her temple. More tears gathered to fall down her cheeks and again, Giles brushed them away.

  “I am thirsty.”

  His fingers wriggled into Lilly’s hair, supporting her head as she rose. Cool, slippery glass pressed to her lips and she took a few hasty sips with her eyes still closed. Lilly lay back, gasping for air. The pain had obliterated her ability to hide how bad she felt. Again, Giles brushed her face with a touch as gentle as a feather. “Will you eat now?”

  “In a little while, perhaps.”

  Something strange brushed against her temple. She opened her eyes. Giles’ lips were an inch from her skin. Warm breath beat against her cheek as his head settled to touch hers. She snapped her eyes shut.

  “You need to eat, Lilly. I will have the housekeeper bring up a tray for you, but do not ever hesitate to ask me to help you. I have a great deal to make up for.”

  Giles made a small, indistinct sound, and then he withdrew from the bed. When she reopened her eyes, he was truly gone from the room and she was all alone. Only Atticus stayed. However would she be able to forget what had just passed?

  Lilly lay still as the pain receded to a dull ache, attempting to alter the memory so it wasn’t a chamber pot he carried her to but a cushioned chaise, complete with champagne and cherries. That memory would be much easier to contemplate if it were true.

  When Giles returned, she found she could look at him without blushing. He brought servants with him, one for the fire, and one for the chamber pot. Her little fantasy crumbled as the contents flew out the window.

  “Good morning, Miss Winter.” A plain, round-faced woman carrying a well-laden tray hurried toward her. “I’m Mrs. Osprey, his lordship’s housekeeper. Do you remember me?”

  Lilly searched her mind, but shook her head the tiniest amount. “I’m sorry. My memory is not what it should be. It’s nice to meet you again, Mrs. Osprey. What have you there?”

  “Scrambled eggs, ham, fresh buttered bread, and a saucer of hot chocolate. A breakfast fit for a lady.” The housekeeper beamed, set the tray down on the bed, then shooed the dog away.

  Lilly gulped back sudden nausea at the thought of eating all that food. She closed her eyes tightly.

  Giles covered her wrist with a light pressure that sent shivers down her spine. “What is it?”

  “Too much,” Lilly whispered, blinded by the urge to cast up her accounts. Not that there would be much to come out, but dry retching was horrid and always made her headaches worse.

  She breathed her way through the sensation and eventually opened her eyes. Mrs. Osprey and the breakfast tray were gone.

  “My apologies. We did not consider that your stomach might be delicate. Mrs. Osprey will fetch something plainer,” Giles murmured, brushing a handkerchief across her clammy brow. “Are you all right now?”

  He refolded the cloth but Lilly was puzzled by his attendance. “Yes, the nausea has passed. I would eat it if I could. Please apologize to Cook for the inconvenience.”

  “Don’t worry about Cook. She will enjoy the challenge,” Giles assured her, brushing her hair away from her face.

  He glanced at his hand then laughed heartily at something only he found funny. He didn’t explain. Unfortunately, his movements shook the bed.

  Lilly could not help but groan aloud. “Can you measure me a portion of laudanum, Giles?”

  “I am afraid not.” Giles squeezed her hand gently in his larger one and held it tightly. “On my order, we do not keep that mixture at Cottingstone. Mrs. Osprey checked through your baggage and could not find further bottles anywhere. You will have to survive without.”

  Giles waited for her reply, but she didn’t know what to say. She had never had to deal with the pain without the medicine before. Surely, she could manage until Papa returned.

  Giles rubbed the back of her hand, soothing her worries away. “Can I do anything else for you?”

  Her eyes fluttered shut. Although the dark frightened her, she couldn’t tolerate the bright light any longer. Her pulse beat a fast tempo behind her eyes, sending sharp pain to the top of her skull. “The light is too bright. Would you mind closing the drapes?”

  “Of course. Mrs. Osprey, place the tray next to me, and see to it,” Giles directed then shifted closer. “Lilly, have a bite of this.”

  “What is it?” Even her own words hurt.

  “Just bread.”

  Something soft brushed Lilly’s lips and she opened her mouth to take a small bite. Could the day get any worse? Now he was feeding her. She managed three bites before clamping her lips closed.

  “You need to eat more than that, Lilly. It’s not enough to feed a sparrow,” Giles grumbled, and Lilly had to wonder why he should care so much. She opened her eyes to find him regarding her somewhat quizzically, as if she was a puzzle to solve. “Try to eat more later, all right? I don’t want you wasting away.”

  “I will try.”

  “I have your word?”

  Lilly frowned. What did it matter to him whether she ate or not? But he appeared to be waiting on her answer. “Yes, you have my word.”

  That seemed to appease him, his shoulders relaxed, and he stood. “Good. I will check on you later, but Mrs. Osprey will stay and keep you company. Get some rest.”

  It was good he was leaving. Her head had begun to throb in earnest now. But her tightening throat choked off her farewell as he disappeared from view.
He was better off without her company.

  He was perfect.

  Chapter Seven

  “Milord, Mrs. Osprey believes Miss Winter has developed a slight fever,” Dithers informed him after dinner. “She has some concerns and wishes for your opinion.”

  Giles cursed. He had spent the day thinking Lilly’s health somewhat improved, but he should have known it was too good to be true. Of course, the other reason he had stayed away was that he did not trust himself in Lilly’s company. He had developed an annoying habit of touching her. Yes, well all right, this morning he had attempted to kiss her brow too.

  To distract himself from temptation he had gone over his plans for the restoration of Cottingstone Manor. He’d hired laborers from the village and they would start tomorrow. Ten additional men would be about the house and grounds for the next two weeks—bringing order where chaos now reigned.

  The little business he had brought with him from London was complete by late afternoon, and he sat alone in his study, glass of port in hand, doing what he usually did at the manor: recuperating.

  The life he led in London, a life spent in the pursuit of pleasure, actually required a great deal of energy to maintain. There were places to go, women to chase, possessiveness to avoid. Yes, a very exhausting life.

  Except that tonight he could not settle comfortably. His mind kept turning to the problem he housed upstairs. “You are certain she has a fever?”

  “No, milord. I said that Mrs. Osprey thinks she has one. We do not always agree, but I have not tested her wisdom on the young miss. You told me not to annoy your housekeeper, and I am hesitant to place my hands on Miss Winter to check her diagnosis.”

  “You could lose a hand that way,” Giles growled, but the shock of uttering such a territorial statement aloud rocked him.

  “That is what I thought, milord. Hence my coming to you.” Dithers glanced around the chamber with the appearance of idle inspection, but his clenched jaw hinted he was trying very hard to keep his face blank of expression.