Of course, every day Robert didn’t wake up made the prospect of that happening dimmer. The grief that weighted her body surprised her. She felt it in the exhaustion in her limbs, in the ache in her chest.
But right now, her husband needed a bath, and she was the woman to do it.
Lily set the bowl on the bed next to his still form and rolled up her sleeves to her elbows. She stared at his face, watching for any sign of movement, any twitch that might indicate this was all an elaborate scheme. For what, she couldn’t fathom, but the ridiculous thought crossed her mind anyway.
When he appeared unchanged, she dipped the rag into the water and rubbed the soap against it until bubbles began to form. Her stomach fluttered as she turned to her husband.
The blanket that covered him would need to be removed.
It was pathetic, really, for her to be this nervous. She’d seen him unclothed before. The first year of their marriage, she had seen him quite a lot. She’d had the glorious right of running her hands over his body often and with enthusiasm.
Each time he had touched her, she’d tumbled deeper, further in love with him. But that love had always been laced with anxiety. She had never stopped wondering, questioning what he felt.
When the miscarriage happened, he’d stopped any attempts at making their marriage work and her fears had tipped to a boiling point. Cordelia had been his first choice, and she’d tortured herself with that knowledge.
Lily set the bowl of soapy water on the table next to the bed, watching as it sloshed onto the wood. Reliving the past was not helping.
She grabbed the edge of the blanket and peeled it back.
He had changed.
She recalled hints of definition, but now the muscles were defined, taut across the body that held not one ounce of fat. What had he done with himself? When?
His stomach was a hard, flat surface with the smallest indentations that outlined his muscles, even in rest. He was lean, from top to bottom. Broad shoulders that tapered down into a trim waist and ended in long, muscled legs that had tangled with hers, captured hers. Made her feel connected.
It had been so long since they had touched, in any way. Not even a gesture of comfort, of welcome. Nothing.
Years of nothing.
With a mind of its own, her hand landed on his stomach. The hard heat of him made her jump and she snatched back her shaky hand, then lifted it to her toasted face.
The room felt warm. This was ridiculous. There was nothing sensual about giving a sponge bath to a man who had the current mental faculties of…well, a sponge.
It was like bathing a child, really.
“Lady Melrose?”
Lily snapped her head up. “What?” Mrs. Tandy raised her brows, and Lily sighed. “I am sorry, Mrs. Tandy. I’m just tired.”
Mrs. Tandy entered the room, bearing another pitcher of water, which she set on the sideboard. “You’ve been by his side for hours. You need a break. That is what I’ve come to tell you.”
“That I need a break?” Lily asked wryly. When she was snapping at servants, that much was obvious.
“In a manner of sorts. Your sister is here. She brought some of your things.” A flash of sadness shuttered her features. “Though I wish they’d never left in the first place. It’s… well, if I may say so, it’s not the same without you.”
Lily picked up the rag and dropped it into the bowl of water. “Mrs. Tandy, you’ve been such a wonderful housekeeper. I wish I could take you with me.”
“You’re too kind to say that.” Mrs. Tandy moved closer, lifting her hand to shoo Lily out of the room. “Now, go visit with your sister. Mr. Melrose will be here when you return, I don’t imagine any different than he is now.”
Lily leaned from side to side, feeling the aches in her back and her neck. She reached up to rub the offending muscles. “I believe I will.”
She was happy Aria had come. Over the years of Aria and Adam’s marriage, Aria had become more of a sister than the words ‘in-law’ accounted for. They’d long since stopped using them. It was just like Aria to bring Lily’s things herself and not send a servant.
Lily took in a deep breath to still her nerves and smiled. Aria was pregnant, and Lily hoped Aria would share her news. After a lecture about Lily’s decision, no doubt.
She headed down the stairs and hit the foyer floor. “Aria, thank you so much for bringing some things over. I don’t think—” She stopped as her sister entered the foyer.
Her other sister. “Cordelia.”
Cordelia swept closer and gestured toward a large bag that sat on the floor. “Your things. Aria put them together for you. Clothes and of course, some of your books.”
“And you brought them.” She was stating the obvious, but the reasons behind the obvious weren’t so clear.
Cordelia shrugged. “Someone had to.”
“And Aria sent you?” Lily asked, trying to understand what her sister-in-law could have been thinking. She had to know it was the last thing Lily would want.
Cordelia lifted a shoulder. “Aria wasn’t feeling well. She had everything prepared for a servant to bring, but I thought I would help.” She glanced at the stairs. “What happened?”
Just like that, Lily knew. Cordelia didn’t care about her. She was here for Robert.
Lily picked up her bag, found it heavy, and turned to the staircase. “It’s none of your business what happened. Thank you for bringing my things. You may go now.”
Fury propelled her up the stairs.
Cordelia had heard that Robert had an accident and thought it was the perfect time to make her presence known?
She made it to the upper level and without halting, dropped her bag at her door then continued to Robert’s. Mrs. Tandy stood over him, placing towels around to help dry the wetness.
“That was a quick visit,” she commented.
“I had no wish to dally.” She squared her shoulders. “I want to get this over with.”
This time, however, bathing him didn’t give her the same feeling, when it had seemed like it was just the two of them alone in the world, with him dependent on her. Now she looked at him and saw the man who had been a stranger.
The thought stampeded out any warmth she had felt. Knowing that her sister had stood in her house—well, no, it wasn’t her house any longer.
Cordelia obviously hoped to move right in.
Lily grabbed the soggy rag and plopped it on Robert’s chest, watching as the water slipped and slid around, down his sides. He deserved a little uncomfortableness.
She was a saint for doing this.
She grabbed the rag and began to scrub, unmindful of the pressure she applied. She scrubbed his arms, under his arms, his neck.
She had to fight the urge to dump the bowl of water over his head. Anger had bubbled up and she had free rein to take it out on him.
“Are you bathing him or attacking him?”
Lily dropped the sponge and heard the wet splat as she met the amused gaze of her unwanted sister. She watched as Cordelia’s gaze slid down to Robert, taking him all in.
“I asked you to leave.”
Cordelia shrugged and walked closer. “I chose not to listen. It’s a perk of being such an awful person.”
Lily refused to rise to the bait. She grabbed the rag.
“Lily, what happened to him?” Cordelia’s words were soft, uncertain. “Is he going to be all right?”
“I don’t know.” Lily dropped the rag into the bowl and lifted it. “He hasn’t woken up once.”
Cordelia lifted her gaze from Robert’s naked torso. “You’re going to stay until he’s well?”
“That’s none of your business.”
“Perhaps not. But you chose to take an extended leave from your life and move out of your home and now here you are, playing nursemaid. Have you no pride? He doesn’t even know you’re here.”
“What I do is my business.”
Cordelia sighed in exasperation. “So you’ve said, twice now. I
s it so hard to believe that I could be worried about you?”
Lily set the bowl down with a thud. “Since when?”
“Oh no, you do not get to play the sole victim here. I—”
“You lied.” Lily’s tone had flattened out as the full memory of that night came crashing back.
“You met with Robert, my suitor behind my back.”
“The one you told me you were allowing to call upon you because he evened up the numbers of your suitors. That suitor?”
“He had nothing, and I allowed him to court me.”
“How magnanimous of you. I suppose you should be thanking me then, Duchess.”
Cordelia stiffened. “My husband was a good man.”
“You got what you set out for—prestige and power. That was what you wanted. You never cared about love. You said yourself you never cared about Robert. He was a conquest, someone to make you feel good about yourself. He fed your ego.” The words that spit out were unkind and ugly, but she couldn’t seem to shut her mouth.
“You never cared how I might feel when you met with Robert without my permission.”
“Your permission? We didn’t need your permission to talk to each other, Cordelia. That is all we did. Talk. I cared about him. You hated losing.”
“You’re right.” The snapped off ends of her words offered a warning. “Because how could I lose to you?”
The barb hit with a force that near doubled Lily over. There it was. The unvarnished truth.
“Get out.”
“Gladly.”
Cordelia left. Lily looked at Robert’s still form and reached out a hand to shake him. “Wake up, Robert. Wake up, damn you!”
She shouldn’t be here.
If he hadn’t gotten in his accident, she wouldn’t be here playing nursemaid to a man she’d left. She hated that Cordelia’s words echoed in her head.
What Cordelia didn’t realize is that she hadn’t lost. She’d won. Robert had wanted her all along. No matter how Lily had tried, she’d never been enough. After she’d lost the baby, he’d stopped pretending otherwise.
Lily had to go home.
Whether Robert recovered or not was not her responsibility anymore. It never had been in the first place. She couldn’t get caught in believing she mattered to him.
She dropped the rag into the bowl of cold water.
She was done.
Chapter Eight
Two hours later, Lily was bathed, dressed and ready to leave. She’d said her goodbyes—again—to the small staff. If a part of her kept pulling her toward upstairs, she ignored it. She was going to make one stop—to inform Robert’s family they needed to take care of their own and that would cover her wifely duty.
She reached up to open the front door, the misty air a welcome brush against her skin, only to stop in her tracks.
Two men stalked up the walkway. Large men, men that on their own could have formed a large brick wall, but together, they loomed like a set of mountains. Their clothing was simple, austere, covered with black coats that matched their black expressions.
Lily stepped back, unnerved by the sight. She went to close the door, but one of them reached up a meaty hand and smacked it around the door, pushing it open.
“We’re here fer Mr. Melrose.”
As he spoke, the second one came to stand behind them and the intended threat was clear. Fear spiked up into her throat.
“He’s not here.” The lie popped out before she could stop it. “He’s never here.”
“Ye won’t mind if we have a look fer ourselves?” Without waiting for permission, the men pushed her to the side, not entirely roughly, and moved into the house.
“You cannot just walk in.” She hurried after them, their long strides making it difficult to keep up as they moved from room to room. At one room, she reached out to put a hand on the man’s shoulder and he brushed her off like a fly.
“This is my house and you must leave right this minute.”
One of the men turned to grin at her, more a leer made even more hideous by holes in between teeth that had seen better days. “And how d’ye suppose to make us do that?”
The other man clapped the man across the head. “We have a job to do.”
His flat, uncaring tone sent chills through Lily’s body. A job? What were they here for? What would they do if they found Robert?
Her heart stopped when they headed down the hallway.
The servants. Where was Edwin? Or Anna? Mrs. Tandy?
When they turned into another room, she ran past them into the kitchen. Anna stood eating a biscuit, talking with Cook and Mrs. Tandy. She looked up when Lily entered. “Is it time?”
“Where is Edwin?”
At Lily’s frantic tone, Mrs. Tandy straightened. “He left to run an errand, milady. What’s wrong?”
A loud crash echoed through the hallway, and Lily snapped her head around. “I need Edwin. Or what about Jonathon—Oh never mind.” Their stable boy was just a boy. He was no match for the men moving through the house. Instead, she pointed at the women. “Go to one of your rooms and lock the door. Do not let anyone inside.”
Fear widened their eyes. “Whatever for?” Cook asked.
“Just do it.”
Anna paused. “But I should—”
“Go, Anna,” Lily pleaded.
Not two seconds after the women disappeared down the servant’s hallway, the men appeared in the kitchen. “What do you want?”
“We only want Melrose.”
The other man didn’t seem to agree with his partner’s assessment. He stepped closer to Lily, close enough that his foul breath brought tears to her eyes. “Yer pretty.”
“Tell us where he is,” the other man demanded.
“I…told you. He isn’t here. You may leave a note if you are so inclined.”
She realized how stupid the words were after she said them, but the man cocked his head, the corner of his mouth edging upward.
“A note.” He grunted something that half resembled a laugh. He waved at his companion. “Upstairs.”
“No!” Lily cried, unable to stop herself.
They ignored her and took the stairs three at a time. Lily got up to the next floor just as they flung open the first door, crashing it against the wall and setting the artwork cock-eyed. A quick perusal of the empty room, and they returned to the hallway.
Lily positioned herself in front of Robert’s door.
The man stopped, his companion leering behind him. “Move.”
She shook her head, almost to the frantic rhythm of her pounding heart. “What is your name?”
The man frowned. The other thug stuck his head up. “We call ’im Blade.”
Lily swallowed the oversized lump that had lodged in her throat. That couldn’t be good. “Mr. Blade, I don’t know what you’re—”
Her voice cut off as his hand wrapped around her throat, his fingers splayed wide until they squeezed with enough pressure that she couldn’t speak. Blade’s face moved until it was inches from hers, his eyes flat and clear in their intent.
“I don’t like to hurt women,” he said with a deadly softness. “But I have and I will. Now move.”
The fingers around her throat swiveled until they reached around her neck and with one thrust of his wrist, he flung her to the side. Unable to keep her balance, she landed with a hard thud on her hip. Her eyes moved to the other thug’s boot, and she scrambled to move out of the way to avoid being trampled on as they shoved the door open.
“There ’e is.”
Lily closed her eyes, took in a deep breath to calm the shaking that had taken over her body. She flinched as a loud crash came from the room.
She scrambled up, until she stood and squared her shoulders. She couldn’t sit by and let them hurt Robert.
She stepped into the doorway, terrified of what she would see.
The thugs had flanked Robert’s bed, and the hand that had almost cut off her air seconds ago was now around Robert’s throat. Bla
de was in his face. “Get up.”
“Stop that,” Lily cried. When would Edwin return?
Blade looked at her, murder in his eyes. When Robert didn’t move, the thug raised a fist and backhanded Robert across the face.
“He is unconscious,” she snapped. “He was in an accident and he hasn’t woken up.”
Blade studied her with his dead eyes, then turned back to Robert. Another blow, and Lily screamed, “No!”
She couldn’t let them continue. She had to find a way to stop them. Then she remembered.
Robert had a gun.
Lily raced to the stairs, slipping on the steps more than once. She careened around the corner and into Robert’s study.
“Where is it?” She moved into the foreign room. “Robert, you idiot, where do you keep the gun?”
She yanked open the drawers of his desk, not caring when they went crashing to the floor. Finally, in the bottom drawer, there it was.
She picked it up, felt its heaviness in her shaky hand.
She had no idea how to use it. She didn’t even know how to check and see if the blessed thing was loaded.
Another crash from upstairs. Blade’s voice was getting louder. They would kill Robert.
She tightened her grip on the gun and ran to the stairs.
The tromping of footsteps clattered down the staircase. She looked up as Blade and his partner appeared like a cloud of thunder, dark, foreboding and ready to strike.
She gripped the gun, slid her finger into the trigger.
Blade didn’t falter. He moved on solid feet at her.
She lifted the gun. Watched his eyes widen, his foot pause.
Then, a swift motion blurred before her eyes. She felt the burst of pain against her wrist as it was snapped back and the gun was yanked from her hands, then swiveled in his and aimed at her head.
She stared, unable to move, to breathe, at the barrel of the gun.
“If you hold a gun on a man, you should be prepared to use it.”
He tucked the gun behind him. “Tell Melrose he is expected to meet his end of the bargain. The captain was not amused that he missed the meeting.”
Then, he was gone. The door stood ajar. Fingers of cold air ravaged her face, clawed at her arms but still she stood, unable to take a step.
Willoughby 03 - A Rogue's Deadly Redemption Page 7