A Persistant Attraction

by Silvia Violet

  “Rhys?”

  He didn’t respond, nor could she pry his fingers from her arms.

  “Rhys!”

  “No. I won’t let them kill her.”

  “Rhys, wake up. You’re dreaming.” When she managed to free one of her arms, she reached for his shoulder, trying to shake him awake.

  His skin was on fire. Far hotter than it had been when they’d gone to bed.

  “Rhys can you hear me?”

  He made no verbal response, but he released her other arm and fell back onto the bed, scrubbing at his eyes with his hands. “It’s too late. It’s too late.”

  “Please wake up.” Amanda kept shaking him, but she got no response. The fever had him firmly in its grip.

  Moments later, he settled and drifted into a deeper sleep. Amanda rose and searched the dark room for the stand where she’d seen a pitcher and basin. Fortunately, it was located by the window, and the moon gave enough light for her to find towels and wet them with the cold water.

  She found her way back to the bed and knelt beside Rhys. She laid one towel on his forehead and used the other to sponge his chest. She remembered her nanny making a poultice that pulled fever from the body, but she had no idea what had been in it. All she could do was try to cool his skin and make him comfortable enough to sleep.

  Perhaps one of the servants would know what to do. At least they could send a note to Lord Farrington. Amanda felt certain he could find a physician who would not ask the wrong questions. Rhys would be angry if she asked for Farrington’s help, but his health was her first priority. She would not let him die before they gave their marriage a chance to succeed.

  His breathing slowed as she bathed his body with the cool towels. She took a break and found a few candles which she lit so she could dress in the clothes she’d worn the night before. Once her body was covered, she used the bell pull to summon a servant.

  Whitbread, the man who’d shown them into the house the night before, appeared almost instantly. He was as impeccably dressed and groomed as if it were midday.

  “How can I help you, madam?”

  “Mr. Stanton is unwell. Does any of the staff have medical knowledge that would be of use in bringing his fever down?”

  “Yes, madam. Kate, the maid assigned to you, was of great help to my sister when she suffered childbed fever. Lord Farrington hired her for these skills. I’ll summon her right away. Would you like tea or a breakfast tray sent up for yourself?” The mention of food made Amanda realize she was starving. She hadn’t eaten much the day before, and she had missed supper entirely. “Yes, both. Thank you.”

  “Will there be anything else?”

  “No, I don’t think so.”

  “You have only to call if you think of something. We’ll do everything we can to help you and Mr. Stanton.”

  “Thank you. He was most adamant that he did not want a physician called, but I cannot let him suffer.”

  “Hopefully Kate will be able to heal him. I will see that she is sent up right away.” A few moments later, Kate knocked at the door. Amanda explained the situation and the young maid set some herbs to burn in a censor, saying they would cleanse the room and promote healing. Then she prepared a poultice for Rhys’s chest much like the one Amanda remembered from childhood. She instructed Amanda to keep bathing him as she had been doing. Otherwise, all they could do was wait.

  Amanda refused to leave Rhys’s bedside as she waited all through the morning and afternoon, growing more exhausted and distraught as each hour passed. He alternated between resting peacefully and thrashing about in the throes of more nightmares. From what she could gather of his broken words, he was reliving something terrible that had happened in France. He kept mentioning a woman’s name, Therese. The pain in his voice brought tears to Amanda’s eyes.

  The evening wore on without Rhys awakening. Amanda decided to summon Lord Farrington and inquire about a physician. She wrote a note, rang the bell and instructed Whitbread to deliver her missive to Lord Farrington. Whitbread returned a while later and

  told her the footman had been unable to track down Farrington. The note had been left with the man’s valet.

  At some point in the night, Amanda fell asleep in a chair beside the bed. She did not wake until Kate knocked on the door, bringing a breakfast tray for her and a fresh poultice for Rhys. Bright sun streamed in the window, indicating that it was late morning.

  She cursed herself for falling asleep when Rhys could have needed her. But when she leaned over to check his forehead, relief washed over her. “His skin is cooler, and it’s damp.”

  “That’s a good sign, madam. If he’s sweating, then his fever has broken. I bet he’ll be waking for us any time now. Why don’t you let me help you get a bath and change into fresh clothes?”

  Amanda looked at her rumpled dress. She longed for a bath, but she could not leave Rhys until he was awake. “Thank you, Kate, but I want to be here if he wakes.”

  “Are you certain, madam?”

  Before she could answer, Whitbread knocked on the door and announced that Lord Farrington was below. Amanda asked that he be sent up. Whitbread looked slightly scandalized, but complied without voicing a complaint.

  “Will you be needing anything else, madam?” Kate asked.

  “No. But thank you again for your help.”

  “My pleasure, madam.”

  Farrington entered, his cravat was askew and his jacket was torn at the shoulder. He looked even more rumpled than Amanda herself.

  “I came as soon as I received your missive. I’ve been from home since yesterday morning.” He looked toward the bed. “How is he?”

  “Better. His fever has broken, but he has not yet regained consciousness.” Farrington smiled. “I have good news as well.”

  “Were you able to stop d’Eglantine and his followers?”

  “Yes, the information Rhys gave us was enough to discern their plot and put an end to their plans.”

  “That’s wonderful. Does it mean we can go home now?”

  “Possibly. D’Eglantine and Mouton evaded capture. We have it on good authority they’ve boarded a ship to France, but I’d rather you stay here until they’ve been found.” Amanda was about to question him further when Rhys suddenly sat up, his eyes wide and bright.

  Rhys’s head pounded, and his mouth felt drier than sand. He remembered listening to Amanda’s voice, letting it lull him to sleep. Why was Farrington here? The bastard had no business in their bedroom. Hadn’t he warned the man to stay away from Amanda?

  “Get out.” His voice was hoarse from lack of use, and the words came out much quieter than he intended. Just how damn long had he been sleeping?

  Amanda rushed to his side and pressed her hand against his head. “How do you feel?”

  She started to step back, but he held her arm, trapping her by his side. He ignored her question and her worried look. “Farrington, I warned you to stay away from my wife.” Amanda took his hand with her free arm. “Calm down. He’s only come to give us news about the—”

  “I know why he’s here. He…” Rhys let his words trail off, suddenly realizing how ridiculous they sounded.

  When he’d woken, confused and in pain, seeing Amanda and Farrington standing so close had enraged him. The idea that Amanda would allow another man into their bedroom, that she would lean so close to him, look so intimate with him, made Rhys want to leap from the bed and throw the man from the window. But now that his full faculties were returning, he knew nothing untoward had been going on. Farrington might be a bastard, but he would not attempt to seduce Amanda while Rhys lay unconscious.

  “Rhys?”

  He released Amanda’s arm and looked up at her, seeing her clearly for the first time since he’d awakened.

  “Were you dreaming again? You had terrible nightmares all day yesterday.”

  Suddenly, Rhys remembered the dreams. Tormented, jagged images of Therese and Aaron raced through his mind. He shuddered to think what he’d reveale
d of himself as he’d dreamed. “Yesterday? How long have I been asleep?”

  “A day and a half. Your fever spiked frighteningly high. You’ve been restless and dreaming. I’m so glad you’re awake.” She leaned down and embraced him despite Farrington’s presence.

  Rhys glanced at Farrington. The man’s expression was carefully blank, but Rhys knew Farrington could guess the source of Rhys’s nightmares. He would know why Rhys had reacted so violently to seeing him.

  “Lord Farrington came to bring us good news.” Amanda’s words broke the tense silence. “Your information helped them after all. They stopped the strike against the regent.”

  Rhys exhaled sharply. “Thank God for that. What happened to d’Eglantine and the other Centimes?”

  Farrington averted his eyes, something he rarely did, even when he had bad news.

  “Most of the men are dead or in custody, including the man we suspect you overhead at the Winstons’ ball.”

  “Most?”

  “D’Eglantine and Mouton escaped.”

  “God damn it.” Rhys slammed his fist against the bedpost, making it wobble.

  “They were seen boarding a ship to France. I have a team of men looking for them there.”

  “Is that supposed to reassure me? I cannot let Amanda leave here until they are captured.”

  Amanda frowned. “What if they are never found? I’m not going to hide here forever.”

  Rhys ran his hand through his hair. He’d be lucky to keep her there another day, let alone until the men were found.

  Farrington cleared his throat. “I’m going after them myself. I will send you word as soon as they are caught.”

  Rhys was stunned. In the years he’d known the man, Farrington had only gone into the field once, for the doomed mission that led to Therese’s death. Farrington much preferred to stay in London in his well-appointed townhouse, overseeing the work of others.

  “You’ve hardly slept in days,” Amanda protested.

  Rhys glanced at her and saw concern on her face. It was all he could do not to growl.

  “I appreciate your concern, but this is something I must do.” When Farrington looked his way, Rhys saw something on the man’s face that he’d never seen before—

  contrition.

  *

  “When are you going to tell me what is between you and Lord Farrington? I want to understand why you despise him so.”

  Rhys looked up from a letter he’d been writing and sighed. At her insistence, Rhys and Amanda had returned to his townhouse the day before, though he would have preferred to keep Amanda in hiding until d’Eglantine and Mouton had been caught.

  Amanda had forced him to stay in bed for the whole of the previous day and night.

  That afternoon he’d put his foot down, saying he’d be mad before the afternoon was out if he was not allowed to move about.

  She’d argued fiercely. Finally, he compromised with her by swearing to spend the morning resting on the sofa in the library. In truth he was hoping for a chance to seduce her. He felt quite recovered, and her body called to his. The last thing he wanted to do was discuss Farrington and the past they shared.

  “He is not a likable person.”

  Amanda arched her brow. “I find him quite amiable.”

  “Yes, I’ve noticed.” Rhys didn’t bother to keep the anger from his voice.

  Amanda reached out and took his hand. “Don’t tell me you’re jealous.”

  He snorted.

  “That’s why you reacted so violently, isn’t it? You think I’ve taken a fancy to Lord Farrington.”

  “If I truly thought that, he would not be in one piece.”

  “If you thought he had succeeded at seducing me, you would no doubt attack him.” Rhys released her hand and turned toward the fire. “Has he?” Amanda stood. “I shall pretend you did not ask that. When you are ready to have a civilized conversation, you will find me in my room.” Rhys expelled a long breath. Why the hell did he keep provoking Amanda when he wanted nothing more than to show her how much he cared for her?

  “Damn it, Amanda. I should never have asked that. I just…” She turned to face him, her hand on the doorknob. “No, you should not. Next time, think more thoroughly before you speak.” She left the room before he could reply.

  He leaned forward, spearing his fingers through his hair and supporting his head in his hands. He’d botched things once again. Maybe she was right. She would have been better off not marrying him. He had no idea how to be a husband or how to make her understand his feelings. He didn’t even trust himself to protect her.

  Part of him wanted to stay right where he was for the rest of the day, feeling sorry for himself, trying once again to drink enough to dull the pain of his feelings for Amanda. He wanted to forget what a mess his life was in. But he’d tried that countless times before, and it hadn’t worked.

  His better side told him to get up, go upstairs and tell her why he despised Farrington. He would refuse to leave until she gave him another opportunity to show her how much pleasure she could receive as his wife. He wanted to be able to please her in other ways, but for now, what he could do for her in bed would have to be enough.

  *

  Amanda sat in her window seat, looking down on the immaculately trimmed garden behind Rhys’s townhouse. She’d kept her wits together as she’d ascended the stairs, but

  once she reached her room, she let go of the tears that had welled in her eyes from the moment she’d closed the library door. She’d lain across the bed and sobbed, something she’d not allowed herself to do in years.

  Once she’d exhausted her supply of tears, she forced herself to sit up, dry her eyes and assess her emotions more rationally. As she studied the garden, fear, hurt and anger warred within her. How dare Rhys think she’d betray him? Lord Farrington was a charming, attractive man, but she had no particular feelings for him besides gratitude.

  Whether Rhys believed it or not, Farrington did worry about his safety.

  Were Rhys’s concerns about Farrington serious or was he simply trying to put distance between her and the other man? As she puzzled over this question, someone knocked on her door. She hesitated before answering. It might be a servant, but what if it was Rhys? Was she ready to talk to him?

  The door handle turned, and Rhys appeared in the doorway. Apparently he wasn’t giving her a choice.

  “I don’t recall inviting you in.”

  “You told me I would find you here.”

  “Yes, but—”

  “I’ve come to apologize for my behavior and to describe the Farrington I know.” He looked like hell, and she hadn’t the heart to send him away. She feared he might faint in the hallway if she did. She motioned toward a winged chair. “Please sit down before you collapse.”

  He did as she requested, and for several minutes he remained silent, staring in her direction but not seeming to see her. When he began to speak, he seemed to be reliving the events he described.

  “By 1813, I’d been in France for a several years, and I’d developed a few different personas. I alternated between them as I traveled to different parts of the country. I rarely stayed long in one place, but that year, I spent the entire summer in Paris, presenting myself as a disgruntled Englishman who preferred the civilities of France to my own country.

  “Therese was a Frenchwoman I’d worked with on and off for a few years. She had an English cousin named Aaron. Farrington sent him to help us in our latest mission, but he wasn’t cut out for the work we were doing. He was more suited to a career in Parliament, but he insisted on carrying out the mission.

  “Les Centimes, the group d’Eglantine now leads, was controlled by another man at the time, M. Valois. He was so evil even someone as irreligious as I wondered if he might be the devil incarnate. My associates and I set up a plan to destroy him and his organization, but I wanted Therese and Aaron removed as things drew to a close.

  “I told Farrington Aaron was unprepared to be as ruthless a
s he must, and no woman should be involved in our plans. Therese was playing the part of my mistress. The plan involved my making Valois my sworn enemy. By the time we were ready to strike, Valois would do anything to destroy what was mine.

  “Farrington ignored my requests, said it would compromise the mission to remove them at such a late date. He reminded me they’d volunteered for their positions and had no desire to leave France.”

  “Did he speak the truth?” Amanda’s question startled him, as if he’d forgotten she was there.

  “Was Farrington telling the truth?” she repeated.

  “Yes, the damn fools. They swore they could handle it. But if Farrington had listened to me, they might be alive now.”

  “You blame him for their deaths.”

  “Yes. If he hadn’t insisted that we finish according to his plan, I could have kept them safe. Instead, I watched Therese bleed to death in front of me while I stood by with Farrington and pretended I didn’t care.”

  His words gave Amanda chills. His face lost all its color, and Amanda wanted to reach out and soothe him. Instead, she let him continue.

  “Valois captured her. I’d left her alone at my townhouse. I didn’t want to, but I couldn’t take her to the establishment I needed to investigate. She protested that she would be fine.

  “Valois beat her and raped her. Then he brought her to the rendezvous Farrington and I had planned with him. Valois thought we were smugglers trying to undermine the lucrative business he ran. He threatened to kill her if we did not pay him for his perceived losses.

  “We did nothing, and he slit her throat. Farrington insists Valois would have killed her no matter what we did. She’d been beaten so badly she would likely have died anyway, but I’ll never know. All I know is that as a result of Farrington’s plan, she died.” Amanda couldn’t hold back the tears that ran down her cheeks. “W-what about Aaron?”