Nothing untoward? We spent the night together. Was she being purposely obtuse? “What I did or didn’t do has no bearing on our situation. If found together like this, it will be a scandal of epic proportions.”
“Caring for the sick is a Christian duty, is it not? He will understand and you are too ill to saddle your horse, let alone ride him.” She lifted her hands in exasperation, and that was the moment I saw the gun. This woman—whom I’d first assumed was an angel, then a farmer’s daughter, and now a lady of some rank—was holding a pistol in her right hand and was socomfortable with it she could use it for emphasis while speaking, all while keeping it expertly trained on the floor.
Once again, who exactly had come to my rescue?
I made certain her dressing gown was secure around my shoulders and pushed myself up. The room swam, and the young lady leaned forward as if she was prepared to dash across the room and catch me if I fell. Thankfully, my vision settled and her services weren’t needed. She and her gun and her lack of dressing gown could stay safely across the room. “I think our best course of action is for me to leave. I will marry you if that is what you want, but if not?—”
“I don’t want to marry you, but ... ” She threw her hands down in exasperation, still being careful with the barrel of the pistol. Her gaze sharpened, and she looked, while still beautiful, slightly dangerous—or rather, even more dangerous than she had since I first noticed the gun. “I thought you were dying last night. I was certain of it. And now you think you are well enough to simply leave without more care?” Her eyes flashed with ... anger? “What if you die along the road?”
I straightened as well as I could under the circumstances. “I will not die. I’ve had a bout of the ague fever. It isn’t my first, and it probably won’t be my last. I will be weak today and will need to be dry and warm as soon as possible, but I will recover. I always have before.”
“The ague?” The way she pitched her voice on the second syllable made it sound as if she was quite upset by the disease. So was I, but it was better than dying, wasn’t it? I would fully recover, and while this could happen again and again, it wasn’t life threatening. Not if I was well taken care of while sick. “That is why you were so ill? The ague?” She was angry again. “I thought for certain I would watch you breathe your last breath last night.” She seemed almost disappointed that she hadn’t.
“But I didn’t. And that is a good thing, isn’t it?”
She waved her hand to the side. “Yes. Of course it is, only ... ”
“Only what?”
She huffed and pushed herself off of the ground. She made no movement to cover herself, despite only being in her nightgown. She’d spent the whole night with me and had memories of it. Whatever had happened had made her much more comfortable in my presence than I was in hers. I averted my eyes.
“I wouldn’t have been quite so terrified last night if I had known. I’m familiar enough to know it is a temporary, if very frightening, fever.” She closed her eyes for a moment, and then opened them and started forward. “I’ll get your shirt.” She strode past me and gathered my shirt, coat, and waistcoat from the ground.
“Again, I’m terribly sorry.” The way she balled my clothes into her arms made it clear she wouldn’t be expecting a marriage proposal. I should be relieved, and I was, but at the same time, there was some discomfort that had nothing to do with the hard ground or my shaking limbs. I’d always strived to be upstanding and proper when interacting with the opposite sex, yet here I was in a compromising situation and my first reaction was to escape it. Was I a cad? Should I press her harder about our situation? But if I did, then I would be untrue to Harriet, and she deserved a man who was as steadfast as she had been. “Thank you for caring for me. I never should have gone out in the rain like that. Not with my history of the fever.”
She tossed my shirt and waistcoat to me. “The storm came on so quickly we were caught in it as well.”
She turned and faced the door, I assumed so that I could get dressed. I didn’t feel quite ready to stand yet, but I was extremely ready to have my shirt on. I let her thick green velvet dressing gown drop to the floor. The cold air lashed at my bare chest. I glanced briefly in the woman’s direction and pulled my shirtover my head as quickly as possible. Keeping one eye on the gun still pointed at the floor, I decided I needed to at least try to be a gentleman. I was the one who’d gotten her into this mess. “I would take responsibility if you asked me to.”
She shook her head almost violently. “I am not asking you to.”
“It would be within your rights.”
“Are you dressed?”
“Dressed enough,” I said, buttoning up the last button on my waistcoat.
She spun and huffed again at the sight of me. “You are obviously in love with another woman. I wouldn’t cause either of you harm, and I like to think myself capable of finding a man to marry me on my own merit, not because he was forced to for propriety's sake.”
I coaxed a smile to my lips. “That is brilliant news.” What a deucedly awkward situation. I held her dressing gown up to her.
She took the gown and lifted her chin, ignoring the garment when she should have been hastily putting it on. “I don’t want to keep secrets from my family.”
“You ... ” I stumbled over what words to say next. Maybe it was the fog in my brain from the fever, but I couldn’t follow this woman’s train of thought. “But you don’t want to marry.”
“I don’t, but I also don’t want you to leave here when you are unwell. My family can take you wherever you need to go in our carriage. I don’t like the idea of you being alone.”
I quirked my lips. “I’m quite accustomed to being on my own, I can assure you.”
“Really?” she said with a raised eyebrow. “And that doesn’t bother you at all, does it?”
I hesitated. That question hit too close to home. What had I said to her last night? I ignored her inquiry. “I could be the mostdastardly scoundrel in all of England. For all you know, I could demand a marriage when your father arrives.”
“I don’t believe you are.” Again, there was that unbalance between us. She knew things about me, and I knew nothing more than the color of her eyes and what her hair looked like unbound. Well, that, and perhaps her scent—not one of flowers, but the exotic tangy sweetness of citrus. I’d awoken surrounded by it, thanks to her wrap.
It was most certainly time to leave. I folded her dressing gown and set it on the ground, then pulled on my coat, not bothering to button it.
I pushed myself up to a standing position using the wall as leverage. Once again she looked ready to catch me should I need it. It took me three slow breaths to steady the world. My eyes caught hold of her collarbone and a white scar just above it. It looked like a brushstroke, like an artist had taken white paint and brushed it across her skin. I kept my eyes on it as if it could keep me upright. Eventually, the world steadied. I dragged my eyes away from the artwork of that hollow and stepped away from the wall. I forced myself to stride toward the door in a manner that hopefully conveyed the capacity and strength to get on my horse and ride.
