Lucy blotted her face and managed a smile. “I can’t be of any use here. Mama won’t let me.”
“Of course she won’t. She is a mother. They prefer to suffer alone.” Della tried a half-smile.
“Eden would expect me to help my family.” Lucy’s shoulders squared.
“Poor Eden. He had many imaginary expectations put onto his shoulders. He knows you are noble and kind, and he wouldn’t expect more of you than is wise. Because Eden is very wise.”
“He is.” Mary gulped back her tears. “He is the smartest man I know.”
Della didn’t even raise her eyebrows. She had begun to believe this could be true. He had disappeared rather than face a houseful of measles.
CHAPTER SIX
Eden had finally concluded his business in London after a long process of meetings with various drainage experts, a builder, a stonemason, and his man of business. His drive home had given him time to ponder on the subject of his hoped-for marriage and whether or not he should let Della know he loved her.
On the one hand, he would find out if she had feelings for him, and on the other hand he could confirm that she simply wanted to experiment with him, an objective from which she had never deviated. If he were to believe she hadn’t changed her mind, he should be offended. Should be, yes, for no self-respecting male should allow himself to be used for his body. Unfortunately, his body didn’t cooperate with his brain. He had his mind set on her, and showing any resistance would have been as hard as cracking walnuts with one finger.
The hour being late and deciding not to pull up at the front of the house, he turned the curricle into the carriageway leading to the stables. Two heavy-eyed stable boys rushed out. He let them unbuckle the horses and told them to attend to the curricle in the morning. The stable master, greeting Eden, creased his forehead. He seemed about to say more, but he shook his head and breathed out, indicating to the stable boys to go about their duties as quickly and as quietly as possible.
Eden put aside the concern on the stable master’s ruddy face, and tramped straight into the house without further discussion. He didn’t see a sign of the butler, who would normally greet him, no matter the time of day he arrived after a journey, but of course, the butler didn’t hover around the boots’ area.
His hat and gloves in his hand, he trudged though the kitchen where the dying embers in the oven glowed in the dark. Leaving behind the yeasty odor of the bread dough left to prove overnight, and the soft patter of the kitchen cat, he made his way to the central hall. He heard no sound other than the creak of the floorboards as he trod. Making his way past the library, he noticed that light cracked around the door. Wondering who might be awake at this late hour, he turned the handle and peered in.
A single candle stood on the central table, burnt down to a flicker at the end of the wick. In his comfortable reading chair, curled up on the soft leather, sat the velvet wrapped bundle of Della, her eyes closed. He could have left her there but he couldn’t imagine how she came to be asleep in his library. An opened book sat precariously in her lap. He placed his hat and gloves on the table, and reached out and closed the cover, dropping Household Management for Ladies on the table as well, and stood staring at the woman he loved.
The length of her thick dark eyelashes didn’t disguise the weary black half circles beneath her eyes. He crouched down beside her, noting that the velvet robe covered what he believed to be a nightgown. Her feet were bare. Without discovering why she was in his house dressed in night attire, he thought he shouldn’t pick her up and carry her off to a bed. At that moment her eyelashes flicked and her gaze met his.
She took a moment to focus.
“Good evening,” he said politely. “Did someone accidently leave you here?”
She held out her arms to him. “Oh, Eden, I have missed your adorable comments so much,” she said in an aching voice.
Since that was the best reception he had ever had from her, he leaned down to draw her into his arms. She stood and, balanced on one foot, she held him tightly. His cheek lowered to her hair and he breathed in her apple fresh scent. “Perhaps you should explain yourself.”
“I needed find a recipe for cook to prepare for Mary. She won’t eat a thing and I want something that will slide down her throat and cool her.”
“You might need to go back to the beginning of this story. I think the part you are telling me is somewhat nearer the end.”
“Don’t say that. She is bound to get better. I did—get better that is, though at the time I didn’t think I would.”
He nodded understandingly, without understanding a word. “So, Mary is ill, and you have decided to come to my house dressed in your night attire to find a recipe she might like?”
“Close.” She stayed where she was, against his chest, her face snuggled into his neck. “I came here four days ago because your mother couldn’t cope without help. First the housekeeper contracted measles, then a housemaid, and then Mary. That’s three people in one house who need help, and a great lack of competent helpers. The house staff is caring for the housekeeper and the maid, but your mother is caring for the house. With your mother’s help, I am caring for Mary, who is desperately ill.”
“Where is Lucy?”
“Lucy hasn’t had measles. My mother kept her away from Mary until yesterday, and since she didn’t develop a rash, we sent her to your Uncle Featherstone.”
Eden managed to sidestep with Della and land in the chair with her on his lap. Given the way she had melted into his arm, he doubted she would mind. “Perhaps I could take the nightshift?”
“You should rest after your journey. I can manage.”
“Of course, my love. I’m sure you can. But my sister is my responsibility.”
“She wants me. She calls for me.”
“Perhaps I could go up and see her for myself.”
She stiffened, and rose to her feet. “Of course you should. You shouldn’t be here comforting me. I shouldn’t have grabbed you when she needs to see you, too.”
He stood. “You’re welcome to grab me any time you like, but perhaps a little later? Where are you sleeping?”
“In the best guest bedroom.”
“That would be because you are our best guest.” He took her hand. “I see you have no slippers. Should I offer to carry you?”
“I would love that, but we are about to go upstairs and I wouldn’t want to wear you out.” She took his hand and pulled him to the direction of the door.
Attached by the hand, he followed her up the stairs and down the darkened corridor of the south wing to Mary’s room. A night-light sat on a bedside commode. Mary appeared to be sleeping but even in the dim light, he could see she was flushed with fever. She opened her eyes briefly, and said, “Della.”
“I’m here. And Eden is here to see you, too.”
“Eden,” Mary said in a weak voice and closed her eyes.
Della removed the flannel Mary wore on her brow, refreshed it in the cool water on the table, and patted the soft material across Mary’s hot face.
“Go to bed,” Eden said, taking her shoulders and pointing her in the direction of the door. “Relieve me after you’ve had a nap.” He patted Mary’s forehead with the flannel again, while he watched Della watching him. She seemed unlikely to obey his order, but she eventually slipped from the room.
He stayed, changing the flannel from time to time until the morning light. Finally, he could see Mary’s color, pale but for the blotched spots that covered her face, her neck, her shoulders, and even her arms. She opened her red-rimmed eyes and stared at him. “Eden. I’m sick,” she said in a long thin voice.
“I know.”
“I’m dying.”
“No, you’re not. You’ll get well soon. Would you like a bowl of chicken soup? I think that’s the cure.”
“No. I don’t want anything but Della.”
He sympathized. Nor did he. “She’s sleeping but when she wakes up, she will come to see you.”
But Mary didn’t hear. She fell into another flushed, restless sleep.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Della slowly awoke to the bright morning sunlight. She stretched and eased her back and then sprang out of bed in a flat panic, trying to get her bearings. Realizing she had overslept, she hoped that when she rang her bell, a maid could find the time to bring her a jug of hot water. Fortunately, Annie answered quickly, and Della washed and hurried down to the breakfast parlor where she ate a slice of cold toast, drank a cup of tepid tea, and hurried back upstairs to see Mary.
Eden was sleeping in a bedroom chair too small for him, stretched out with his legs crossed and his chin on his chest. Mary was lying awake, her eyes bright with fever. “Della, I’m so hot.” She hacked a dry cough.
Della placed a cool hand on Mary’s forehead, and then cupped each of Mary’s cheeks, trying to will away the fever. “You’ll be better soon,” she said in a soothing voice, knowing she offered small comfort.
Eden stirred, brought his legs up, and stood, the epitome of a gentleman, as usual. “Good morning, ladies,” he said in a gruff, sleepy voice. He glanced at Mary, his face expressionless. “What did the doctor say about Mary?”
“He thinks we should cope. As you can imagine, he is seeing many people with measles at the moment. Do go away, Eden, and have your breakfast. Mary needs to be washed.”
His eyes met Della’s, and he nodded. “Thank you. I will be back as soon as I’ve had a sleep.”
Della sponged Mary who complained the whole time about the soreness of her skin and the itch of her eyes, and her willingness to die instantly. Her tormentor was sure she had been the same when she’d had measles and remained sympathetic. After Mary had managed to sip a glass of water and had fallen asleep, Della’s thoughts wandered to Eden. The same thing had happened far too frequently these past few days, but she thought about his body more often than his kind words or actions. She should have been ashamed of herself, but she wasn’t.
Some time later, she had some relief from her duty, when a maid entered the room and said she would tend Miss Mary while Miss Hayden took a meal. At various times of the day, Lady Thornton popped in to gaze helplessly at Mary.
The next day followed the same pattern with Eden and Della taking turns to be with the patient. Three nights later, the fever broke. Mary lay in a sweat, the blotches on her skin fading, and she sat up of her own accord, asking for water. Della wanted to dance a jig, but weary, she couldn’t find the energy. Eden was due to take over from her, but she knew he needed sleep as much as she did. She found Annie and asked her to stay with Mary during the night.
Annie nodded. “Will it matter if I fall asleep?”
“Use the truckle bed. That’s what Lord Thornton does.”
Before going to her own bed, she found Eden in his study, his eyes closed.
“Are you sleeping?”
“Not now,” he said, eyeing her. “Did you hear me snore?”
“You’ve been wonderful over these past few days. You could snore all day, if you wish, as far as I’m concerned.”
“You won’t say that after we are married.”
She gave him a sideways glance, sighing. “Eden, you know we don’t plan to marry.”
He rose to his feet without answering. “How is Mary?”
“Recovering. Annie is with her and I am about to crawl into bed.” She heaved a sigh, her weariness making her eyelids heavy.
He nodded. “Come here, apple dumpling,” he said, holding his arms wide.
She walked into his encompassing embrace. He kissed the top of her head and snuggled her close. His comfort was unsparing and had been the whole time during the past week. Anyone could see he was devoted to his sister. If Della hadn’t realized in the years she had known him that he was a treasure, she certainly knew now. He was a man who could be supportive in good times and in bad.
She held him tight but what began as platonic hug swiftly changed into a needy embrace. “I thought she would die,” she whispered, her throat clogged with emotion. “I ran out of ways to help a long time ago. I couldn’t keep her cool and I couldn’t stop her scratching at her skin. Her poor eyes ...” She buried her face in his shirt-front.
He scooped her into his arms and carried her up the stairs, while she clung to him as if she could never let him go.
The guest bedroom sat at the end of the long passage in the north wing. Eden carried her past every other bedroom in the house to get to hers. Anyone could have seen him, but no one appeared and no door opened. He snicked open the latch and moved toward her bed. The candles flickered as he passed the side table by the door. She assumed he would set her down and leave. Apparently he had no such intention. He dropped her onto her mattress. She bounced.
He removed his jacket while she watched, her eyes wide, her breath momentarily held. When he undid his cravat, she assumed that he didn’t plan to leave. Tonight, if she managed to keep his attention long enough, she would learn about lovemaking. Her heart began to thump in an erratic manner.
She was twenty years old and only he, aside from her relatives and female friends, had kissed her. Only one man had brought her to pleasure. The same man would take her virginity, or so she hoped. Virginity had no use to a woman other than as a bartering point. And a woman who didn’t want to marry shouldn’t need to barter. She should be accepted as she was, faulty, needy, and hungry for closeness.
Her bed dipped on one side as he sat to remove his boots. She walked on her knees, kneeling up behind him to help with his cravat. He swiveled and smiled at her, smoky eyed, raising his chin to help her. She enjoyed every clumsy-fingered untangle, with his face close enough to hers to be able to feel his breath like puffs of simulated kisses on her cheek. “I hope you mean to help me undress.”
“We’ll take turn about. My cravat for your shoes.” He reached behind for her evening slippers whose heels were easily grabbed, and tossed both onto the floor.
She rolled his cravat into ball and threw the bunch as far away as possible.
He narrowed his eyes and shoved her onto her back. He turned and brought his knees onto the bed and landed on top of her. “Throw my best cravat onto the floor, will you? I’ll pay you back for that.”
For a moment she took him seriously and froze, until she recognized the mischief lurking in his eyes. “I will pull your shirt off if you try.”
Her captive obligingly held his arms above his head while she dragged the fabric from beneath his waistband, up his chest, and finally over his head when he bent to accommodate her. The golden beauty of his skin caused her to empty her chest in one long sigh, but he didn’t give her any time at all to stare. He began to work on the ribbons of her nightgown. “Are these ties or part of the decoration?”
She didn’t like him sounding as if he knew all about various ties on nightgowns. Only a man with undressing experience would wonder about the difference. She knew she had to accept that men took mistresses, but the thought of another woman with the right to undress him, hurt. “Decide for yourself, Lord of Undressers.”
“Hold on. No need to insult your favorite suitor.”
“What make you think you are my favorite?”
“Am I not?” He bared her breasts and leaned down to kiss first one, then the other nipple.
“You are at the moment,” she said, trying to breathe. “My very, very favorite person in the world at the moment.” She would flatter him as long as she had the breath while he was licking her nipples, using little flicks of his clever tongue. She tried to tangle her legs around his waist, but he sat up, breaking her hold.
He stared down at her. “I think it’s time we removed your nightgown.”
“Is this reciprocal?”
His face creased with one of his gorgeous, charming smiles. “Perhaps I should be a little more demure about this.” He narrowed his eyes a little. “Would you like to undress me?”
“I doubt I would find it easy. If you don’t cooperate, I wouldn’t be able to lift you. I
’m happy to try, of course.”
“I’ll cooperate.” He rolled off her and landed flat on his back in the centre of the bed.
This was the first time she had seen the whole of his hard chest. He looked exactly as she had expected, with hard muscles flexing beneath his pale skin. His lower abdomen caved down beneath his breeches. Even lower he had disturbance in the snug line of the material, a long bump reaching almost to his waistband. As she imagined what that clearly hid, her belly clenched, and lower down, she throbbed. Her eyes met his. She swallowed. “Well,” she said. “Perhaps I should have been expecting that.”
He nodded unhelpfully. “The inevitability is quite interesting. Kiss a man, and he demonstrates his appreciation.”
A nervous laugh broke out as she recalled the appalling day when his stallion had been brought over to service her father’s best breeding mare. Papa had shooed Della inside, but the mare’s squeals had been loud. “She didn’t mind,” Papa said later. “She was in heat.”
As was Della. She knew she wouldn’t mind, and the sight of Eden that way dried out her mouth. When she’d begun to tease him in the apple orchard all those weeks ago, she had not expected to end up in bed with him, her skin hot, her breath short, and her heartbeat loud enough to hear. “What would happen if I changed my mind?”
His shoulders lifted slightly. “Nothing.”
“Would you care?”
He stared at her. “It’s your choice, Della, and I have left you to make it.”
She drew a deep breath. Weeks ago, out of boredom, she had begun to tease him, certain she had him at her mercy, but lately the tease had turned into a battle of minds. She appeared to have won, and now she was hesitating about the prize. He had thrown her a challenge, which she shouldn’t take, but he was Eden, idiotic, beautiful Eden, who could make her laugh when she was miserable, who could stop her when she was about to make a spectacle of herself, who could change her mind when she was being stubborn, and who could make her crave him when she knew she shouldn’t have him.
Sinfully Delectable (Regency Four Book 2) Page 6