Daphne merely rolled her eyes, giving her head a dismissive shake. She gripped his arm as they ascended the stairs. Thank goodness he was not crippled because he would be too heavy to assist. He did allow her to lead, not because he could not walk upstairs, and she felt the silent concession thoroughly.
Daphne’s chambers might be next door to the Duke’s, but they had mostly lived separate lives. When they had first arrived at the townhouse, she had thought the space was rather large, but now it felt intimate and warm. She motioned for him to head for the chaise.
“Sit,” she ordered. “I will fetch a basin with water.”
“Call for a maid,” he grunted, even as he obeyed.
“No. I can handle this. Just remain seated,” she said.
The Duke settled himself. Daphne could feel him watching her as she moved. He had completely stripped his torn shirt at this point and had balled it and thrown it on the floor. He wore his trousers, still, but it did not change the fact that he was making her unsettled.
When she returned, she saw that he was still there, waiting. His chest rose and fell rhythmically, almost as if he were asleep but his eyes were wide open. She did not just come back with a small basin of water but also with medicinal spirits and a few pieces of clean linen cloth. She placed the basin on a table right next to where she had stacked some books.
Daphne dipped a cloth into the warm water and wrung out the excess. Then she began to work. For someone who had defied him time and again, her touch was unexpectedly gentle but also firm. There were no smart quips or interrogation. She was focused on her task.
Adrian had commanded gaming hells and other activities that could only be done in the dark in London. He had intimidated many men, even those who worked in the same circles, but he found himself completely at Daphne’s mercy.
He leaned back to feel the soft cushions support his weary back. He even closed his eyes at some point.
Trust.
Comfort.
She was able to evoke the first in him and provide the other. Tension slowly but certainly drained from his shoulders as she continued to clean his wounds. She worked on the graze above his temple, wiping the blood that oozed from there and trickling down his cheeks. Then, she almost reverently wiped his jaw and knuckles.
Her touch felt good. Too good.
“You are surprisingly adept at cleaning wounds and wiping bruises, Duchess,” Adrian murmured, even as he kept his eyes closed.
He let her work her calming wonder over him.
“You have a gentle, steady hand. Fit for a surgeon.”
Daphne pressed the cloth lightly against his ribcage. He felt her still there, and knew that if he opened his eyes, he would see horror in hers. He could almost hear her intake of breath. He knew then that the bruises might turn purple the next day.
“I have watched the maids tend to Daniel and Marianne,” she confessed.
That made Adrian open his eyes. He could sense the darkness in those words. Daniel, he could understand.
Boys could get into trouble. Brawls. Adventures.
“Marianne?”
“Oh. So, you do not know it all, then. You have met my father, but you don’t know how cruel he truly was. The maids tended to Daniel whenever Father was displeased with him. I assume you know that my brother had a different mother. I mean… I know I already told you as much, but it is vital that you understand why my father resented Daniel. His first wife died giving birth to her baby boy, and our father blamed him for her death,” Daphne explained, even though her eyes remained on what she was doing. “Meanwhile, Marianne often defended us. She even took most of the blows from Father’s cane so that we didn’t have to hurt. I had to know how to clean wounds in case he still ended up hitting the other girls. Lizzie was too meek. Mina was too intellectual. Vicky was too rebellious. Each of them would inevitably offend Father in some way.”
Adrian hissed sharply, and it was not because of his wounds. Yes, they stung. However, her story had made things hurt even more. She was trying to tend to his wounds, while she told her about her invisible ones. He reached for the hand that was tending to him and gently squeezed it.
“Look at me, Duchess.”
She reluctantly met his gaze.
“I know what you needed the first time I heard about your plight, standing outside the door of the Reverend’s house,” he said, thewords tearing from him painfully. “I will never let anyone hurt you. Never. If Briarwood or even the Devil himself comes for you, he will answer to me first. You are protected here. I will not break this promise.”
“I don’t want to be treated like I’m made of porcelain, Your Grace,” she protested.”
Adrian shook his head slowly, barely even feeling his wounds and bruises at this point as he made himself invested in her own. “I do not believe you are made of porcelain, Duchess. If you were, with all that you have gone through, you would have shattered years ago.”
He leaned back after letting go of her hand, giving her space. Daphne took it as a cue to work on him again. It was almost as if the task provided her with balance. This time, she wiped on his knuckles.
