“He never helps.” Graves punched the man when he stirred.
“Don’t be angry with him. Please.”
“Why shouldn’t I?” He settled the man across his shoulders and headed for the tradesmen’s entrance.
Alex was giving orders to the butler while going upstairs. I followed him into his bedroom.
“How are you?” I entered his bedroom, which, in retrospect, was a bold move.
“I need a hot bath.”
“Why?”
“To scrub my skin, or I’ll throw up.”
As the duke, he enjoyed a private lavatory with a large brass bathtub and a modern water boiler. Steam rose when he turned on the hot water tap. I wouldn’t mind a hot bath myself.
“I’ll leave you then.” I touched the knob when he called me.
“Thank you for your help.” He unbuttoned his waistcoat. “I hope to…” He lobbed the waistcoat into a basket.
“What?”
“I hope to be able to hug you soon.” He sounded sweet and open.
I beamed. “I’m sure you will.”
When he started to remove his shirt, I hurried out.
He could appear so vulnerable when we were alone and so commanding when with others.
Myrtha met me when I was halfway to my room. She clamped her hands over her mouth. “You’re a vision.” She hugged me fiercely.
“I feel wonderful.”
She cupped my face and studied me. “Good. You’re strong again. What would make this moment better?”
“A hot bath.” I smoothed down the skirt of the gown she’d lent me. “To ease the tension.”
She waved in the direction of her bedroom. “Go to my room. I have a water boiler. You won’t need to wait for the servants to carry buckets of hot water.”
I didn’t need to be told twice.
The bathtub was filled in a matter of minutes, and while Myrtha’s lavatory was similar to Alex’s—same size, white marble tiles, and dark wainscoting—hers was full of bottles of scented oils, candles, and a rich sweet almond oil soap that left my skin smooth and silky.
I stepped out of the bath when the water was cold and my skin pebbled.
I donned a dressing gown and towelled my hair in front of the fire, enjoying the sensation of being strong.
“Myrtha?” Alex’s voice carried from the corridor.
I opened the door, aware that my hair was down and wet, and the lapels of the dressing gown left my cleavage bare. “Myrtha isn’t here.”
He must have scrubbed his skin with punishing intent because it was reddened and raw. He raked a slow glance over me, his lips parting. Never had a single glance made me feel so beautiful and attractive.
I didn’t pull the lapels closer. “Myrtha was kind enough to let me take a hot bath. My room has only a washstand.”
“I’ll have a modern water boiler installed in your lavatory. And a bathtub.”
