The truth was, she had been all too eager to leave the house before anyone else arrived for breakfast. She also hated being sick. She hated the helplessness of it. Memories of fevers wracking her body and the smell of mint water could still elicit the odd niggling sense of fear. Stubbornly ignoring the signs would change nothing. She was ill, plain and simple.
As Amelia turned to go back to the house, she caught sight of Lord Alex cresting the hill before her. He looked exceedingly handsome, his lean muscular frame donned in tan and brown riding clothes.
Halting in front of her, he greeted her with a dip of his head and a tip of his hat. “Lady Amelia.”
“Lord Alex,” she replied, suddenly aware that this was the first time they’d ever been alone together.
“I wasn’t aware that you would be out walking this morning.” He took in her attire. “I assume you have come out for a walk?” he queried politely.
“Yes, one does get tired of being indoors for an extended length of time.” Even if one wasn’t feeling quite up to par.
A faint smile tipped the corners of his mouth—a full mouth, especially for a man. “Given my friendship with your father, I can’t believe we aren’t better acquainted. I hope to rectify that during this visit.”
Disarmed, Amelia could only stare at him, at a loss for words. She quickly collected herself. “Yes, well, that is-is surprising.”
“But I see no reason we cannot further our acquaintance now. I pray you won’t hold Armstrong’s behemoth-like behavior against me?”
In her weakened condition—and indeed she did feel weak—Amelia couldn’t gauge whether he was toying with her or not. His handsome face was everything to be found in gentlemanly solicitousness.
“Certainly not.”
“Good, glad to hear. I hadn’t pegged you as one to judge me solely by the company I keep.” He smiled a slow, thoroughly engaging smile. “Given a chance, I can be charming and agreeable—or so I’m told.”
Amelia chuckled softly despite the cold penetrating the thick wool of her cloak and beginning to seep into her flesh. She imagined he was everything he claimed and more with his silver-grey eyes and his dimpled chin. Thankfully, Lord Alex didn’t affect her senses as his friend did.
She emitted a pained gasp as another shooting pain nearly doubled her over.
“What’s wrong?” he asked sharply.
Amelia briefly closed her eyes to fight the dizziness threatening to engulf her. “No-no, I’m fine. I must not have gotten enough sleep.” The last thing she needed was his sympathy.
Lord Alex was immediately at her side, concern etching his features. “Is it your stomach? You look ready to keel over.”
“I-I’m fine.” Then to make a complete liar of her, she clutched the sleeve of his jacket, his forearm steady and hard beneath her gloved hand. “I can’t imagine what could be the matter,” she murmured as another dizzy spell sent her head into a spin.
Amelia closed her eyes against the weakness in her limbs. Lord Alex swiftly removed the glove from his hand and pressed his palm to her forehead.
“Good Lord, you’re burning up,” he said, his voice raised in alarm.
“I think I may be ill,” she said faintly.
“Oh really?” he asked, a touch wryly. “Come, let’s get you back to the house.”
The house was about fifty yards away, but she began panting at the prospect of the walk.
She started forward, resting more of her weight on his arm than she intended. With a swiftness that left her gasping, he hoisted her up in his arms, high against his chest.
“No,” she said—a feeble protest a man with any sense of gallantry and the strength to carry eight stone would ignore. “Please put me down, I can walk just fine on my own.” Another roll of her belly had her promptly dropping her head back on his shoulder as her entire body contracted sharply against the breath-stealing pain.
“You don’t even have the strength to hold up your head and you think I will permit you to walk. What you need is your bed and a physician.”
Amelia closed her eyes and inhaled the frosty air. She had never been particularly fond of physicians. Hélène was apt to take better care of her. But her protests would be futile. Much like his friend, Lord Alex looked like a man rarely refused anything. Both men carried themselves with an inherent arrogance, but could command goodwill without a word.
It took him only a few minutes to cover the required distance, carrying her as if she weighed nothing at all. They entered the house through the rear and were immediately enveloped in its warmth.
“You can put me down now,” she murmured, her eyes fluttering open.
“I will put you down when—”
“What is going on?”
In unison, their heads jerked in the direction of the viscount’s steely quiet tones. He loomed just outside the billiard room, his expression containing all the outrage of a husband catching his wife with her lover.
“Send for a physician. Lady Amelia is ill.”
At his friend’s barked command, Thomas strode swiftly toward them, placing himself in the direct path to the staircase.
Lord Alex’s black brows drew over narrowed grey eyes. “Move aside, man. I’m taking her to her chamber.”
Thomas’s gaze flew to take in Amelia’s wan visage. Her eyes fluttered, the spread of dark lashes fanned above the crest of her cheekbones.
“Give her to me,” he demanded, his hands already reaching for her.
Cartwright’s mouth formed a tight, displeased line as he pulled her tighter against his chest. “Damn it, man, I have her. Just direct me to her bedchamber.”
What bloody gall! And damn if he needed Cartwright’s permission. Amelia was his. His guest, he quickly corrected. He and he alone was responsible for her. “I will take her.” His words came out a growl. And since Cartwright remained unwilling to give Amelia to him, Thomas took her, extricating her smoothly from his friend’s arms.
Cartwright relinquished her without another word of protest. He did one better. He watched him, all sober-faced and assessing.
With Amelia securely in his arms, Thomas studiously ignored him and headed for the stairs. He ascended to the first floor with swift, sure steps.
He glanced down at her again to find her peeping up at him. “You needn’t act like such a boar. He was being a gentleman. In any case, you can put me down. I’m quite capable of walking unassisted. It’s nothing more than a bellyache and perhaps a touch of a fever.”
“We’ll let a physician determine that,” he said grimly.
In her chamber, he placed her gently on the bed. Seconds later, Amelia’s maid came rushing to her bedside, anxiously peering at Amelia from behind him.
“Oh, mon Dieu, qu’est qui s’est passé? Monsieur says zu are ailing. What ‘as ‘appened to mademoiselle?”
“Your mistress is unwell. Find Alfred and have him send for the physician.”
“Monsieur has already sent for a physician.”
By monsieur, Thomas assumed she meant Cartwright, whom he was relieved to see was nowhere in sight.
“Mademoiselle, iz it your belly? Your appetite has not been right.”
Amelia nodded slowly. “And some dizziness, but I’m sure it’s nothing a day in bed won’t cure.”
The maid sighed softly, then turned and made her way to the adjoining bathing room.
Thomas’s gaze flew to Amelia. He began to mentally catalogue her symptoms. Dizziness and stomach pains? Brought on by what, nausea? Suddenly the possible cause of her illness had his stomach dropping and his head spinning.
“Are you with child?” Behind his harshly bitten-out question lay a fear so distasteful he found it hard to swallow.
Her eyes rounded. “Good Lord, you shall always think the worst of me, shall you not?”
He’d been holding his breath in anticipation of her response. He expelled that breath and swallowed the lump in his throat. She wasn’t breeding. Not even Amelia could feign that kind of affront
.
Thomas shifted on his feet, momentarily averting his gaze. “Not an impossibility given your history.”
Her eyes darkened, and then she abruptly fell back against the pillow, her pallor stark against the navy bed sheets. “Please go. I don’t want you here.”
Amelia’s maid returned to her bedside with a rag in her hand. “If zu would pardon me, my lord.” She sent him a tentative glance, as if not wanting to offend. Thomas hastily moved aside to allow the woman access to her mistress.
Pregnant indeed! The cool rag on her forehead was a balm against her fevered skin, but the wretched man was impossible.
Hélène began to remove the pins from her hair. Shortly, Amelia’s hair lay fanned about her head. Thomas, who had taken to pacing at the side of the bed, halted and stared at her.
“My lord, I will attend mademoiselle, and tomorrow she should be, as you English say, good as new, non?”
Thomas didn’t reply to Hélène, just continued to stare at Amelia. She blinked against the intensity of his gaze.
“Worried I won’t be well enough to resume work tomorrow?” she whispered in an effort to blunt the sudden tension in the air.
Her voice seemed to snap him to attention as if coming out of a daze. “Don’t be absurd. What do you think I am, a tyrant?” he asked briskly.
“Oh, don’t scowl so. Just leave so I can rest. I can hardly do so with you hovering over me. And Hélène can—”
The knock at the door was followed immediately by the entrance of Lord Alex and a man who could only be the physician, given the black physician’s bag in his hand. Moreover, the older gentleman, tall and elegant with a thick thatch of snowy white hair, entered the chamber with an air of authority.
“Dr. Lawson was belowstairs treating one of the servants who appears to be suffering from something similar,” Lord Alex announced to no one in particular, advancing into the room as if anointed by some authority that he too was at liberty to be in attendance.
Leprosy might have received a warmer welcome than Thomas offered the arrival of his friend. Amelia noted the stiffening of his jaw and the coldness now glazing his eyes. Thomas gave Lord Alex a curt, dismissive nod.
“Good morning, Thomas. I gather this is the patient?” The doctor spoke with an informality that told Amelia he’d known Thomas many years, probably long before Thomas had gained his title.
The doctor advanced to her side and gazed down at her in a medically assessing manner.
“Yes, Dr. Lawson, this is Lady Amelia Bertram. She’s running a fever and is complaining of stomach pains.”
“Hmm. Well, let me take a look. Don’t worry, my dear, this will not hurt.” He gave her a reassuring smile, which did nothing to allay Amelia’s worries. Doctors had a way of mucking things up before eventually curing you. Of course, that’s if they didn’t kill you first.
Thomas turned to Cartwright, who stood several feet behind him. “I believe Dr. Lawson has this in hand.” In other words, You’ve done your good deed for the day, so run along your way.
In the midst of removing an instrument from his bag, the physician angled a look over his shoulder, and followed Thomas’s gaze with a discreet clearing of the throat. “Um, if you gentlemen would give me some time alone to examine Lady Amelia.”
Like the crack of a whip, his statement made Thomas more aware. He was standing by her bedside like that of a concerned spouse. “Yes, of course. We will confer once you’re done with the examination.”
Thomas reluctantly trailed Cartwright from the room. Once in the hall, Cartwright immediately confronted him. “What the hell was that all about?”
“Now is neither the time nor the place,” Thomas responded in clipped tones. “Why don’t you go and wash off that stench of horse from you?”
The quick flaring of his nostrils was the only indication that Cartwright was perturbed. They stood eye to eye for several seconds before his friend abruptly pivoted and walked away, his tread muffled by the velvet-pile carpeting.
Thomas intended to return to the main floor to await Dr. Lawson after Cartwright left to go to his chamber at the opposite wing of the house. But instead, he found himself pacing the hall outside Amelia’s chamber.
The door opened twenty minutes later, and Dr. Lawson emerged. He started when he saw Thomas standing there.
“What’s wrong with her?”
“Oh, Thomas, I was just on my way down.”
“What is wrong with Amelia?”
The familiarity of his address did not escape the physician’s notice as evidenced by the slight raise of his brow.
“I can see it’s nothing several days of bed rest won’t cure. I could hear no obstruction in her lungs, and her heart is strong. There is some swelling in the glands at her neck, but that I expected because of the fever.” Dr. Lawson switched his black physician’s bag to his other hand. “Now, if the fever hasn’t abated in the next two days, send for me again. I haven’t seen a reoccurrence of scarlet fever, but stranger things have happened.”
Thomas’s brows jumped. Scarlet fever? “What do you mean a reoccurrence?”
“Since her bout with it at the age of thirteen. Did she not tell you? She’s a lucky one as it appears she suffered no lasting effects. In the past year alone, I’ve lost four patients to the fever.”
Thomas’s panic must have shown on his face because Dr. Lawson added hastily, “Rest assured, that is not what’s ailing the young lady now. What she has is influenza of the stomach. She’s the tenth patient in the past two weeks. As I said, in two, three days at the very most, she should be back to normal.”
Thomas tried to convince himself his concern was normal. She was his friend’s daughter and an acquaintance—of sorts. Of course, her well-being would be of some concern to him.
Some concern? a voice inside of him mocked. In the past twenty minutes, his anxiety had taken on that of a husband awaiting the safe birth of his heir.
“Lady Amelia shall have the best of care.”
Dr. Lawson inclined his head in a nod and touched his hand to his neckcloth in what seemed an unconscious gesture. “In that, I have no doubt.” He pulled a watch piece from his jacket and gave it a quick glance. “I must be on my way. Call immediately if the young lady’s condition worsens. Good day, Thomas.” Tucking the watch back in his pocket, he started toward the stairs.
Good manners compelled Thomas to escort him to the door.
Without breaking stride or turning, Dr. Lawson said, “I’ve frequented this house for well over thirty years now. I can see myself out. I’m certain you’ll want to see for yourself that your guest is resting comfortably.”
Dr. Lawson needn’t have told him twice. Before the doctor could reach the stairs, Thomas was standing in front ofAmelia’s chamber pressing the door open with the tips of his fingers. The hinges gave a betraying creak.
The maid was sitting at Amelia’s side and angled her head when he entered. Thomas strode to the bed, keenly aware of the silence and the maid’s gaze following his progress. This was his residence, Amelia was in his care, so yes, he had every right to be here, to see to her welfare.
“Monsieur, mademoiselle iz sleeping,” the maid whispered.
Thomas halted at the side of the bed, his chest compressing at the sight of Amelia. Her head rested amid a froth of feather pillows. He took in the fan of dark, curling lashes against her fevered cheeks. With her features softened by sleep, she looked unbearably vulnerable. Beautiful.
Without removing his gaze from her face, he said, “So I see.”
“Did the doctor give her anything for the fever?” he asked after a long pause.
“‘e left laudanum pour the belly pains.” The maid continued to stare up at him, her expression quizzical and expectant.
He nodded slowly. He’d come to ensure she was resting comfortably, and from his observation she was. He should leave, yet his feet refused to obey his silent command.
“Then I shall leave you to tend to her.” Still he didn’
t budge as he followed the rise and fall of her chest comprising her shallow breathing. “Notify me immediately if she worsens—am I understood?”
The maid responded to the hard note in his tone and his sharp look with two rigorous nods.
Thomas gave Amelia’s sleeping form one final glance before taking his leave.
Chapter 19
Thomas found Cartwright in the library, sitting in one of the armchairs, forearms braced on his thighs. He’d since changed from his riding clothes and the dampness of his hair indicated he’d taken the advised bath.
Cartwright shot to his feet upon Thomas’s entrance. “How is she? What did the physician say?”
Instead of offering an immediate response, Thomas strode over to the sideboard and poured himself a dram of rum, heedless that the appropriate drinking time still loomed hours away. As irrational as his feelings were, he hadn’t liked it one bit to see Amelia in Cartwright’s arms or his friend in the intimacy of her bedchamber. He sensed a familiarity there that the brevity of their association could not justify.
Throwing his head back, Thomas drained the contents of the glass in one burning swallow.
Cartwright sidestepped the center table and made his way to the edge of the rug spread beneath the sitting area. After waiting in silence, no doubt expectant of a reply, he flicked a glance at the door. “Am I permitted to see her? Miss Foxworth has also expressed great concern regarding her condition. I assured her I would keep her apprised.”
He would keep her apprised? The bloody gall! Thomas dropped the glass back onto the sideboard with such force it was surprising the glass hadn’t shattered as his composure was perilously close to doing.
Cartwright’s eyebrow slowly rose as he folded his arms across his chest.
A Taste of Desire Page 19