by Em Taylor
“No matter. Let us hope that no harm has been done. Lady Emily?”
Emily turned back to the task and swiped at the hand, cleaning away the pus and crusted blood. The smell worsened and made her stomach roil. Her mouth watered in the way one’s mouth watered just before one cast up their accounts. She turned her head to the side, drew in a deep, calming breath and handed the cloth to Burke. He took a new cloth and handed her it. It was hot and soapy. She cleaned the hand again, working deep into the puncture wound.
“I think he hurt himself on a nail or a large splinter of wood,” said Emily to no one in particular. If anything, she was really trying to keep her mind off the pus oozing from the wound and the blood now mixed in with it. Burke handed her another wet and soapy cloth.
“We must keep changing the cloths and we must get as much of the pus out as possible, my lady. I know it is not pleasant. I shall take over if it is too much for you.”
“I can manage, Burke.” She pressed harder and a little murmur escaped from the lips of her sleeping patient. Emily glanced at Sophia over her shoulder. Sophia gasped before she knelt on the bed and brushed her brother’s hair from his forehead.
“Gideon, it is me, Sophia. Are you well? Oh well, of course, you are not well. You have not woken in three weeks, but this is the first sign of life from you in that time. Oh Gideon, please come back to us for I really do not know what will happen to me if you… if you…”
Emily turned to her friend but Sophia waved her hand in dismissal.
“Sophia?”
“I am well. Please, carry on cleaning the wound. It is better that the infection is removed than that you care for my silliness.”
Emily swapped her linen again and pressed on the wound. It was now mostly blood that oozed from the puncture.
“I think we now need the poultice.”
“I shall go and get it, my lady.” Burke took the bowl, the dirty linens, except the one that Emily was holding against the bleeding wound and disappeared out of the room. Lord Beattie made another little moan and his fingers curled slightly against her hand.
“Sophia, his fingers moved.”
“Oh my!” Sophia hurried around the bed and gazed at her brother’s hand but it was still. Emily pressed slightly harder in the hope of eliciting more movement from the sleeping viscount but to no avail. Sophia’s eyes clouded with disappointment. Her eyes shone with tears and she lifted her hand to her mouth.
“Oh Emily, do you think it is possible that he may get well. I cannot bear the thought that he might…” and then Sophia rushed from the room leaving Emily alone in a gentleman’s bedchamber. With a gentleman. Albeit one who had not stirred for three weeks but it was still rather disconcerting and quite inappropriate. He moaned again. She sat down on the bed and swiped the hair back out of his eyes. It appeared he had a stray lock of hair that would not stay off his forehead.
Her gaze took in his features. A wide forehead with the beginnings of lines which were smoothed out in slumber, long eyelashes which grazed his cheeks. A strong jaw, a straight patrician nose and signs of a day beard.
A movement drew her eyes to his lips. Has he just licked his lips? Her gaze flicked up to his eyes and she could see there was movement underneath his lids. He was dreaming. She lifted to her feet and bent over him, her face very close to his.
“Gideon, can you hear me” It was not proper for her to call him by his given name, of course, when they had not been introduced, but these were extraordinary circumstances. She placed a palm against his cheek and his head moved slightly into the touch.
Emily remembered the book of fairy tales she had read as a child. One where a prince had fought through a forest and kissed a princess awake after one hundred years of sleep. She wondered if it would work. Of course, Lord Beattie had not fallen asleep because of a curse and he had not slept for a hundred years, but suddenly Emily very much wanted to press her lips to those of the sleeping viscount.
She looked furtively at the door, drew in a deep breath and pressed her lips to his.
Nothing.
She pulled away, slightly discouraged. Her first kiss had been… well… it had been disappointing, to say the least. Perhaps it was better if one’s partner was awake. Surely it was better if the kissee was participating. Yes, that was it. It was only because Lord Beattie was asleep. His mouth has been dry and hard and not at all like the romance novels suggested.
She was saved from further musings by Sophia re-entering the room, handkerchief in hand, as she dabbed her eyes.
“I do apologise, Emily. I should not have left you alone. You should not have stayed. It is not appropriate for you to be in my brother’s bedchamber alone.”
“Only you know I was alone and as you can see, he has not ravished me.”
Sophia chuckled. “You are far too improper for your own good. I am surprised no one in the ton has given you the cut direct yet.”
“I am sure that day shall come. Especially since I shall soon be on the shelf.”
“I do not believe you shall be. You just need to find a nice gentleman who suits you.”
“Were you happy with Viscount Rutherford.”
Sophia’s smile was sad and wistful. “I was content. I knew we would not have a terribly long marriage as he was much older than me but Emily, we must take our happiness where we can find it.”
“I think your brother is improving. I believe he was dreaming. His eyes were moving under his lids.”
“They were? How interesting.”
Just then Burke arrived with a muslin cloth filled with a noxious smelling substance.
“Milk, bread and camphor, to draw out the poison. I shall put it on.”
He walked around the bed and it was the first time that Emily really took in the bedchamber. Masculine colours of dark turquoise, black and gold, with dark furniture. The gloom cast by the dark day did not lighten the room any but she suspected the room would be lovely on a nice day as the sun bounced off the gold on the wallpaper and the gilt around the coving.
“Come, we should get ready for dinner,” Sophia said, breaking the spell of Emily’s wool-gathering.
“Yes, we should.”
“Then you should go to bed early. You have had an eventful few days, what with highwaymen and your first attempt at being an apothecary.”
“I believe being an apothecary was more of a trial.”
“At least the smell has gone. I did believe it was something to do with me increasing. Thank you for discovering the source of the smell. I do believe Gideon would have been very cross to wake up and find we’d had to have his hand cut off.”
“Oh Sophia. I thought I was the young lady who was inappropriate.”
“I am a widow, my dear. I am expected to be inappropriate.”
Emily laughed as Sophia motioned her towards her guest quarters.
Chapter 4
His head was aching. Devil take it. He had no memory of last night. He must have been in his cups, and he needed to relieve himself, but oh, how his head ached.
He tried to open one eye but it seemed crusted shut with sleep. How awful, and his head. Had he drunk Brooks’ out of wine and brandy? Good God. He would sleep a little more and then try to get up. No doubt Burke would be in soon, grumbling away and making a noise as he laid out his clothes.
He had vague memories of a dream. A kiss. Maybe it wasn’t a dream. His hand was pained. Ah, his mind seemed to be too confused. Sleep was what he needed. He would never drink this much again.
Emily had come upstairs to change. Having spilt her tea down the front of her dress, she needed to don a new day dress. They would not be going out that morning. It was far too wet—again. Emily was beginning to feel a little melancholic about the weather. Three days since they had arrived at Beattie Hall and they had been stuck in every day. Martha had checked her coiffure, nodded her approval and Emily hurried out of her room to go back downstairs to join her aunt and Sophia. The door
was open as she passed Lord Beattie’s room. She wondered how his hand had healed and if it was still infected.
Not that, that dolt of a valet would know. He had not noticed the first time.
She should leave it and go with Sophia to see the viscount, but what harm could it do to sneak in and check. He was still sleeping. Of course, it was entirely inappropriate, but this was the country. Only Sophia would know if she was caught and her aunt of course.
She checked left and right. There was no one else in the vicinity. A little check of his hand would do no harm.
She hurried around the bed and lifted his hand. It was still slightly red around the puncture wound. She thought it may need another poultice. She pressed her finger to the wound.
Lord Beattie moaned and moved his head slightly.
“My lord, do you feel that?” She pressed again and he moaned as his tongue came out to moisten his lips. When she pressed a third time he scrunched up his nose.
She glanced up at the door. She was no princess and he was no prince but it was now or never to see once and for all if the theory worked. She pressed her lips once more to his.
What the devil was wrong with his hand and what was pressing on it. A searing pain was going through it.
““My lord, do you feel that?” Yes, he felt that. She sounded rather refined for a courtesan or maid. He didn’t bed maids. She couldn’t be a maid.
She pressed his hand again. Damn, it hurt.
Then her lips were on his. Her sweet lips. Well, they were pressed against his as if she did not know what she was doing. That was odd. His bladder was full and he had one hell of a cock stand. His mind was like wool. He lifted the hand she wasn’t squeezing and tilted her head so he could kiss her properly. Ah, now she got it. Maybe it had just been the angle. Or maybe she had thought he was asleep and had not wanted to rouse him. Her lips were soft and she tasted of tea. He would love a cup of tea. When the tip of her tongue touched his, a little moan escaped her. He had just pushed his tongue past her teeth when he heard two intakes of breath—a male one and a female one. The woman he was kissing pulled away with a squeak of horror.
Gideon groaned and peeked one eye open. He appeared to be… in his father’s room in Beattie Hall. The courtesan… he peeked to the side and opened both eyes wide. She was a young lady in a day dress.
He turned his head slowly to see the village apothecary and Sophia. Sweet, beautiful… and pregnant Sophia.
“What….?”
Chapter 5
Aunt Gertrude sat on the window seat in Lord Beattie’s bedroom. Burke had arrived with an invalid cup filled with tea. Lord Beattie was growling something about not being an invalid, despite his hand shaking, his lip had split and was now bleeding due to having been so dry.
“There is nothing else for it. You shall have to marry,” said Lady Wardlaw, pulling out her fan from under her shawl and wafting it in front of her face. “Really Emily, what were you thinking?”
“I was not thinking, Aunt. I was merely acting on impulse.”
“Oh!” More fan waving. “Dogs act on impulse, Emily. Young ladies have self-control.”
“I do not believe we shall have to marry. Only Sophia and the apothecary saw.”
“The apothecary cannot be trusted to hold his tongue, Emily,” Sophia said. “He is also distantly related to the Earl of Bachcomb who lives but ten miles from here. If the Earl and the Countess learn of this, then the rest of the ton will learn about it too.”
“I thought you were supposed to be on my side, Soph.” The viscount’s voice was croaky but there was a glint of humour in his green gaze.
“I believe it is the best thing for you both.” She glanced between Emily and Gideon. “Emily has a good dowry, she is a young lady of good ton and you do not believe in love matches. You should marry her to save her from scandal and to increase the wealth of the estate, which we both know Papa left somewhat depleted.”
“Sophia. I told you that in strictest confidence.”
“That is true, Gideon and I thought you could behave with a young lady, even if she was in your bedchamber. It appears we are both to find disappointment in this lifetime.”
“She kissed me.”
“You did not have to kiss her back. She is impulsive, silly and I love her like a sister. She needs to be protected. You are a peer of the realm, Gideon. For once in your spoilt, aristocratic life, stand up and do your duty.”
Lord Beattie waved away his fussing valet as if brushing away an annoying fly and looked at the three ladies in his bedchamber.
“I do not wish to sound rude or impertinent, but I am somewhat befuddled. I feel like death, quite frankly, I have no idea what time of day it is, or even what day it is. I cannot remember what happened last evening and why I am even sleeping in a nightshirt, and what the devil happened to my hand? It hurts like the very devil. I assume I was in my cups.”
All three ladies gasped, Sophia rounded the bed and took Gideon’s wounded hand in hers. Only when he winced and pulled away did she seem to remember to be careful.
“Oh Gideon, you were not in your cups last evening. You have been asleep for three weeks. You were injured trying to mend the stalls in the stables. Part of them came crashing down about your ears and you were hit on the head.”
“And Caesar?”
“Caesar?”
“My horse.”
Sophia gaped. “How can you ask about your horse at a time like this?”
“Caesar is a brilliant piece of horseflesh. I adore that horse. Is he…”
Sophia rolled her eyes.
“He is very much alive and needs you to get better so you can take him for a decent ride. Your hand was injured and became infected. Luckily, Lady Emily noticed the smell and cleaned it out for you.”
Emily could feel the heat rising in her cheeks as the viscount gave her an assessing look.
“Lady Emily, it appears you have very good medical skills.”
“Thank you, my lord.”
“And adequate kissing skills.”
“Oh!” She turned away, her cheeks flaming.
“Gideon. That was very ungentlemanly of you.” Sophia sounded angry. There was a slight thud. “Do not hit your head against the headboard.”
“Please accept my apologies, Lady Emily. I am not myself. I cannot believe this is happening. You tell me I have just awoken from three weeks asleep and I must marry Lady Emily because she was kissing me. Pray tell, why were you kissing me?”
Emily closed her eyes and wished herself anywhere but this room.
“I thought it might make you wake up.”
“Pardon? Why in the devil…”
He had obviously been stopped by his sister.
“Please explain, dear.”
Emily drew in a deep breath. Oh, they would think her such a ninny.
“I know it is silly but I had this strange idea that if I kissed him, like the prince kissed the princess in the children’s story, he might awaken.”
“What a ridiculous idea,” the viscount growled.
“You are awake, are you not?” Emily could not help herself. Of course, she felt foolish, but he had awoken and now she may have to marry the brute. Although, if marrying him meant kissing him again…
Emily shook her head. She was only fit for Bedlam with thoughts like these., and everyone was looking at her.
“There is nothing else for it, young man. You will marry her.”
As she turned to her aunt, her gaze was arrested on the gentleman in the bed as he ran his hand through slightly long brown hair, his brows furrowed, his green eyes dark and brooding.
“Lady Wardlaw, I appreciate…”
“Don’t try to charm your way out of this, young man. I remember seeing you with your nanny when you were in leading strings in Hyde Park. You will marry the girl and that will be an end to it.”
Lord Beattie raised an eyebrow at Emily’s tyrant of an aunt. His
gaze then flitted to Emily and she wanted to squirm under his assessing gaze.
“She will need some help to be more ladylike if she is to be presented to society.”
Emily gasped.
“I have been out in society for… well, this is my fifth season.”
“Your fifth season and you are not wed yet. What is the matter with you?”
Emily swallowed as tears burned in the back of her eyes.
“I do not wish to marry and I will not marry.”
She lifted her skirts and hurried out the room. She did not go far, however. Instead, she stopped in the carpeted hallway and waited to listen to the conversation in the viscount’s bedchamber.
“I apologise for my niece. She is impetuous but I shall convince her. She shall be ruined otherwise. Please Lord Beattie...”
“Lady Wardlaw, I implore you to stop. My head is pounding. I do also have to visit the necessary soon. We shall continue this discussion later. However, I do understand the need to marry. I also, begrudgingly agree with my sister. I also need to marry and if your niece has a good dowry then she is a suitable match. No doubt, I can keep her out of mischief.”
“But she said she would not marry you.”
“Lady Wardlaw. I am a consummate rake. I can charm the birds out of the trees. Your niece is child’s play to me.”
“That does not fill me with much comfort, Lord Beattie.”
Lord Beattie chuckled. “If I were wed, Lady Wardlaw, I would be faithful to my wife. I take vows that I make in front of God very seriously, and I do not make a habit of debauching young ladies.”
“Yet you were in the process of debauching my niece when the apothecary walked in.”
“I was half asleep, Lady Wardlaw. I was not in my right mind. I had no idea who she was. She was kissing me and I was in bed. I assumed she was someone who had come there of her own free will and whom I had charmed or paid for her services in full knowledge of her circumstances. Had I known she was an innocent young lady of the ton, I would have…”