Page 38 of The Marquess of Secrets

Lydia could not talk about this, not tonight. Her whole body shuddered; goosebumps raised on her flesh. At least she’d eaten most of the food, though it churned in her stomach. How could she discuss opium usage and how it factored into her and Huntsford’s physical relations? If he didn’t think her a degenerate now, he would once the facts were revealed. She should never have agreed to the exchange of secrets.

Placing her palms flat on the table, she stood, then swayed. Harrison jumped to his feet and held her steady. Before she could protest, he swept her up in his arms.

“No, Harrison—”

“Hush, I’m taking you upstairs. You’re far from recovered, and I should not have asked you to join me tonight. As a physician, I should have known better. Youngston!” he bellowed.

The butler must have been just outside the door, for he opened it.

“Miss Best has taken ill. I’m taking her to her room. Please see that a brandy toddy is prepared, and the fire in the hearth is going at full tilt. Have Mariah bring the drink and inform her she is to assist Miss Best.”

“At once, my lord.”

Sighing shakily, she slipped her arms about his neck as he vaulted up the stairs as if she weighed nothing at all. Lydia was far too thin and weaker than she imagined. The illusion that she was recovering was wishful thinking, and the fact she nearly swooned at the dinner table was proof.

Harrison lowered her to the bed then laid his hand on her forehead. It felt blessedly cool.

“You’re warm. Yes, dressing and coming downstairs were premature. Ah, here is Mrs. Wickes.”

“I’ve come to assist. Mariah will be bringing the toddy directly. What can I do?” the housekeeper asked.

“See that Miss Best is comfortable, anything she needs.” He removed his hand and straightened. “Have the maid fetch her food, books, or leave her to sleep.” Harrison trailed a finger across her flushed cheek. “I will check in later this evening when I return.”

“Har…my lord, you are going to….” Lydia let the sentence hang in the air, for she would keep his secrets. No doubt he was going to the terminus.

“Yes. I am. Rest and recover.”

He stepped away from the bed, turned, and left the room.

Tears gathered on her lashes. Never had a man cared for her like this, not since her father. Sniffling quietly as Mrs. Wickes tended the fire, she allowed another moment of self-pity.

She would never find a man like Harrison. Lydia was ruined for any decent man of honor. Focus on getting well, for the sooner she recovered, the sooner she would be far from here and the temptation of the Marquess of Tennington.

Whatever lay in her future, she was determined to move forward with her head held high, battered but all the wiser from the lessons she gleaned from her various life-altering mistakes.

Returning to medicine may be an uphill battle, but it was one she was willing to make.

Reparations. Recovery. To start anew.

If the marquess offered his assistance, she would take it and be eternally grateful.

Closing off her heart, however, was an absolute must.

Chapter 12

Arriving at the terminus shortly after nine o’clock, Harrison immediately threw himself into his work. Safely hidden behind his Doctor Damian façade, he treated dozens of people, assessed the new arrivals, and received a status update from Sister Monica.

At midnight, Sam strolled in. His friend didn’t bother to conceal his identity. Harrison envied his freedom.

Sam motioned toward the small office area, and Harrison nodded. Once out of sight, Harrison pulled off the mask.

“Why are you here so late?” he asked Sam.

“I was on my way home from a secret meeting with a certain young lady.”

Harrison raised an eyebrow. “You have a new mistress?”

Sam scoffed. “I never had an old one. I’m not flush enough to support such an expensive venture. This was entirely innocent.” Sam took a seat opposite Harrison. “I met her at that blasted ball we recently attended.”