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Surrounded as he was by women, from servants to teachers, Dear Charles likely relished a jot of masculine company.
“I assume we can chalk that tidbit up to another recalled memory?” Heat still scorched her cheeks, but Lilly refused to give their patient the satisfaction of averting her gaze.
She advanced farther into the room.
By Jove, he would not intimidate her or ruffle her composure.
She wore her poised comportment like a second skin—a requirement when dealing with children and difficult adults as well.
He chuckled, a pleasant rumbling deep in his chest, then grimaced as Charles swiftly slid the nightshirt over his head. It took several tries and as many minutes, accompanied by a series of grunts and low curses, to maneuver the patient’s arms into the sleeping attire.
As she suspected, the fit was too tight.
To his credit, he did not complain but merely reclined against the pillows, the fabric straining over the muscles of his broad chest and broader shoulders. And revealing a shocking expanse of masculine chest at the vee created by the too-tight fit.
Even Lilly had to admit the nightshirt was a vast improvement over the frilly lady’s nightgown.
Still, what did he think?
They had a variety of sleeping attire stored away for every scenario?
This was a children’s home.
Nothing went to waste here.
The discarded nightdress would have been made into two or three nightgowns for little girls.
“Charles, may I have a word with you please?” she asked, careful to keep her tone professional and benign.
Pulling his eyebrows together into a puzzled vee, Charles nodded as he faced their guest.
“Please excuse me. I shall remove the bandages on your hands and head when I return.” He grinned.
Yes, Charles was relishing the male company.
“Then we shall have that game of cards. Provided I do not get called out to see a patient,” he said. “Your ribs will need to stay wrapped for at least another week.”
“Thank you.” Their patient responded to Charles, but his keen, steely gaze never left Lilly. “How did your meeting with the sheriff go, Miss Granger?”
Ah, he fretted she had revealed his presence.
Because he genuinely did not trust a man he had never met, or at least did not recall knowing, or because this whole amnesia business was a well-thought-out ruse?
Picking the castoff nightgown off the floor, Lilly straightened with it dangling from her fingertips. “It did not. He never arrived.”
“Oh, bother.” Slapping his forehead, Charles offered a sheepish smile.
“I completely forgot, Lil. Forgive me. This morning, I bumped into Wrottesley in Prudhoe.
“He said he had been called away on official business to Berwick-upon-Tweed this afternoon. Something to do with smugglers. He said he would be in touch when he returns.”
Knowing the sheriff’s propensity for corruption, Lilly bet Wrottesley wanted to ensure he received his cut of the booty.
Everyone knew of the smuggling that occurred along the North Sea coast.
With the many hidden coves and inlets, the geography was perfect for running illegal goods and avoiding customs fees and taxes. Plus, Berwick-upon-Tweed’s proximity to the English-Scottish border provided an even more lucrative way to distribute the contraband.
She eyed the man lying in her bed.
