by Ella Quinn
She donned her hat, and once again they ambled toward the house. Perhaps it was her. Her temples started to throb, and Adeline resisted the urge to rub them. She did not want him to think he had given her a headache.
Mama met them as they entered the morning room with a bright smile on her face. “I trust you had a lovely walk?”
Refusing to meet her eyes, Adeline placed her bonnet on a hook on the wall.
“You have a beautiful garden,” Frits said. “I was amused by the fountain of the boy. Adeline said her grandfather had it made.”
That was all it took for her mother to relate the history of the fountain and why it was so beloved in Brussels, giving Adeline time to compose herself. Not from the kiss, but from the declarations they had both made. Why, oh why, hadn’t she thought about the consequences of kissing him again?
Well, actually, for the first time. She had not returned the last kiss. If only she knew what to do. How to make entirely sure that she loved him. The only good thing was that he had not proposed immediately. But . . . why hadn’t he? Surely that was what a gentleman did after he kissed a lady. The dull ache spread to her forehead, and she rubbed it. What if he never intended to wed her? No, that did not make sense. He had already spoken with her father.
She always seemed to be a step behind him, and she could not understand the reason.
“Adeline.” Frits took her hand. “Are you feeling well?”
“No.” She started to shake her head, but it hurt. “I think I need to rest for a while.”
“I understand. It’s quite warm outside.” Raising her fingers to his lips, he kissed them. “I’ll see you in the morning if you’re feeling better.”
“I am sure I will be.” She never got headaches. This was what came from lying to him. It must be. There was no other reason for the sudden pain.
She pressed her knuckles into her forehead, and tears sprang to her eyes as her head pounded. Then she swayed.
Before she could catch herself, she was in Frits’s arms. “Where shall I take her?”
“Follow me. I do not understand it. She is never ill.” Mama left the room and strode to the hall and up the stairs.
Adeline pressed her head against Frits’s hard chest. What was wrong with her? Why couldn’t she be as in love as he was?
“I hope she has not caught the grippe. I have heard it is going around,” her mother muttered. “I’ll have the whole house down with it.”
Frits placed her carefully down on her bed, while Mama spoke with Fendall.
“Everything will be well.” He stroked Adeline’s head. “Just give it time.”
She was trying to decide what he meant when his hand was replaced by a cool cloth. “My lady,” Fendall said, “as soon as everyone leaves I’ll make you more comfortable.”
Sometime later, when she woke, her throat was parched, and she was hot and her very bones hurt.
“Take some of this. It will help your fever.” Fendall lifted her up and touched a cup to Adeline’s lips. She was grateful for the liquid, but it was bitter. “It’s willow bark tea. Drink it down.”
She heard a male voice talking, but it wasn’t Frits. “It is influenza. Watch her for the next day. If she gets any worse, send for me.”
Worse? How could anything be worse than this? It was retribution for telling a falsehood. Every part of her body ached.
Why had Frits left?
“Because your mother would not allow him to remain.”
Who had said that? It sounded as if it had come from inside her head. Yet, it made sense. Something was making her face blessedly cool, but the rest of her body was hot. Too hot.
Adeline kicked her legs, trying to get the bedcovers off.
“Tsk, tsk, my lady,” someone said. Adeline did not recognize the voice. “You’ve got to stay quiet. Doctor’s orders.”
This must be retribution for being untruthful.
I will never, never lie to Frits again.
Chapter Thirty
Bloody hellhounds!
He’d gone too fast, again.
Frits splashed brandy in a glass and sat behind his desk.
Coxcomb. You know better than to rush your fences.
If he’d kept his thoughts to himself, Adeline wouldn’t have felt as if she had to lie to him. Why couldn’t he have just given her a kiss and waited for the rest of it? He knew she was coming around. Albeit slowly. At least he hadn’t magnified his mistake by dropping to one knee and proposing.
He’d actually blamed himself for her headache until he’d received the note from Lady Watford, telling him Adeline had the grippe. At least he couldn’t be responsible for that. No one in his household was ill.
Frits took a long draw of the brandy. He still thought getting her to Littlewood was his best course of action. But until he could manage that, he’d concentrate on things that might make her feel better; fresh fruit and flowers from his estate, perhaps some lavender. He could go to Hatchards to see if there were any books she’d like someone to read to her—hopefully him, but that was probably no more than wishful thinking. No one was going to let him into her sickroom. Therefore, that was all he could—would be allowed—to do for now. He’d also find out when Peter and his mother were going to Surrey. When Adeline was well enough, he’d be able to give her the news.
Damnation.
Frits tossed off the brandy, poured another, pulled out an already cut piece of foolscap, and made a list. He still berated himself for a fool, but doing something made him feel better. He tugged the bellpull and shortly thereafter the door opened.
“My lord?” Creswell bowed.
“Take this and do whatever is required to see the tasks are accomplished. Tell Humphries that Lady Adeline is ill and will not be able to walk Maximus until she is feeling better.”
“Yes, my lord.” The butler took the sheet. “Her ladyship is quite fond of Maximus, is she not?”
“Yes.” Fonder of the dog than she was of Frits. He glanced at his butler. “Why?”
“Well, perhaps when she is up to receiving visitors, she might like to see him.”
“That’s an excellent idea.” He should have thought of it himself. “Thank you.”
“It is my honor, my lord.” Creswell left the study, closing the door behind him.
The last time Frits was ill, Maximus had remained in bed with him. He’d gladly take the dog to Watford House, but couldn’t see Lady Watford allowing a dog in bed with Adeline. A pity that. It would make her feel better.
Broth, plasters, and possets.
Taking out another sheet of paper, he wrote the items down.
Frits wished his mother was home, but she had left as he was returning. He tugged the bellpull again. This time a footman appeared. “Tell Mrs. Hubbold I wish to see her.”
Several minutes later, his housekeeper knocked on the open door and entered, looking a bit puzzled. “Good afternoon, my lord.”
“When my sister had influenza, what did you do for her?”
“We kept her nourished with beef tea, and when she had a rattle in her chest I made a mustard plaster to keep her from getting pneumonia. After she’d got over the worst, Cook made a nourishing oxtail broth.” She thought for a few moments. “We placed lavender around her room to help freshen the air.”
Lavender. He was glad he’d remembered that. “Good. I’ve already asked for lavender to be sent. Send the rest of that to Watford House for Lady Adeline. She has influenza.”
“Yes, my lord.” His housekeeper gave him a curious look, but dropped a curtsey and left the study.
Perhaps he was overdoing it a little, but better that than doing nothing. God, he felt helpless. Frits pushed the brandy aside and called for a tea tray. But once he’d finished his repast, he picked up the glass of brandy again. Her mother said she’d never been sick before. What did that mean? She must have had the normal childhood illnesses. Yet that would have been years ago. What if her body didn’t know how to fight off the grippe? What if she di
ed? People died all the time from influenza.
Whole villages perished!
He couldn’t lose her when he’d just started to convince Adeline she belonged with him. Part of her had to know that. Why else would she have felt as if she had to lie to him?
Frits strode to the hall, donned his hat and coat, departed the house, and headed toward Upper Brook Street. He’d find out himself how she was doing.
Frits plied the knocker, and the Watford butler opened the door. “My lord?”
“I’ve come to discover how Lady Adeline is faring.”
“About as well as can be expected, my lord. The doctor was here and left some powders for her. I fear it will be a difficult few days.”
He wanted more information. “Is Lady Watford in?”
“No, my lord. She had an engagement this evening.” How could the woman even think about going out, nevertheless doing it, when her daughter might be dying? If he could, he’d be with Adeline now, doing everything possible to keep her alive. The butler cleared his throat. “It is better this way, my lord. Tending the sick is not one of her ladyship’s many talents. I assure you, Lady Adeline is being well cared for. Shall I tell Lady Watford you called?”
“Yes.” Nursing the ill might not be a talent, but she should be here supervising Adeline’s care. Well, if her mother wouldn’t do it, Frits would. “You may also tell her that I have ordered several items that will be of benefit to Lady Adeline to be delivered tomorrow. I shall come by again in the morning.” Or later this evening. It wasn’t that late. After all, someone had to keep an eye on her.
“As you wish, my lord.”
Frits stalked home. He’d have to ask his mother how far he could go in taking care of Adeline. But when he arrived at Littleton House, he discovered she had returned and departed again leaving a message that she would be out for the evening.
Damnation.
He called for Humphries.
The old groom entered Frits’s study. “Yes, my lord?”
“We need to find a way to sneak Max into Lady Adeline’s bedroom.” Frits couldn’t be with her, but his dog could, and it would make her feel better.
* * *
Cristabel and Annis grinned at each other as the Watford butler bowed and left the small drawing room.
“I think that went well.” Annis poured two glasses of sherry and brought one to Cristabel.
“Yes indeed.” She took a sip of the wine. “My housekeeper told me that Frits has ordered the broths and other remedies we use for influenza to be delivered here. He is also sending fresh fruit from Littlewood.”
“I had better tell my housekeeper and cook to be prepared to receive them. I suppose I’ll be soothing some ruffled feathers. Fortunately, Pierre will understand when I explain that Lord Littleton is a man in love.”
“You were about to tell me what happened when Frederick came for tea.” Cristabel could not wait for her son to be settled and start giving her grandchildren. Not that her two married daughters had been backward in that regard, but they lived far enough away that she was not able to see the children very much. Frits’s children would be raised at Littlewood.
“Everything seemed to be going well between the two of them. Adeline even suggested that she show him the garden.” Annis arched a brow. “The only reason I can see for that was so that they could have a private conversation. She even took him back to the rose arbor.”
“The one you call the kissing arbor?” Cristabel started to get an inkling of what had gone wrong.
“The very one.” Her friend sipped her sherry. “They were gone for a fair amount of time, but when they returned there was a great deal of tension between Adeline and Frederick. They barely looked at each other. She was coming around.” Annis shook her head. “I know she was. Otherwise she would not have invited him to tea and gone out in the garden with him. I wish I knew what had happened.”
So did Cristabel. “Then Adeline became ill.”
“Yes. It came on so suddenly. Littleton caught her as she fell and insisted on carrying her to her bedchamber.” Annis smiled. “He would have remained if he could have. I practically had to drag him out.”
“Hmm.” Cristabel sipped her sherry. “I will wager my diamonds that Frederick did something for which she was not ready. Do you think he kissed her?”
“I am quite sure he did.” Annis stared at the fireplace. “Then again, she did take him to the rose arbor, and she did not cry out or come running back.”
“In that case, it must have been something he said rather than something he did.” Cristabel applied her mind to what her son could have done. “Oh good Lord. I hope he did not propose.”
Annis gave a frustrated sigh. “I can see it now. They kissed and he decided it meant she was ready to marry.”
Feeling as if she had to defend her son, Cristabel said, “That is how it is usually done, but I do see your point. He should have waited a bit longer.”
“If only Adeline was a bit more incautious.”
“I must say, I rather like her prudence.” It showed a maturity beyond her years, for which Cristabel was thankful. “Frederick will simply have to take a few steps back, and be more patient with her.”
“That will probably be for the best,” Annis agreed. “I do hope they resolve all of this before the Season ends.”
“She will most likely not be herself for a few weeks.” Poor Adeline would not be up to attending any evening entertainments. The thought gave Cristabel an idea. “After Dorie’s wedding to Exeter, we could all go to Littlewood. The fresh air will be much better for Adeline than staying in Town.”
“What an excellent idea.” Annis smiled approvingly. “It will also allow her to come to see how Frederick is at home.”
“My thoughts exactly.” From what Cristabel knew of Adeline, that should finally bring her up to scratch.
* * *
“What is that beast still doing in her bed?” Mama’s sharp whisper woke Adeline.
“Hush. You’ll wake her.” Adeline didn’t recognize that voice.
The door clicked shut.
She felt Maximus cuddled next to her, and she reached out, stroking him. “I thought I’d been dreaming, but you really are here. How did Frits manage it?” The dog stretched and started licking her hand. “You are right. I need to bathe.” The bed hangings were open on one side, allowing the scent of lavender to reach her. She tried to sit up, but one long leg plopped across her body, pushing her back down. “I’m as weak as a kitten. How long have I been ill?” Maximus yawned and snuggled his large head against her shoulder. “Silly, expecting a dog to answer.”
She did have to get up, though, and her throat was parched from even that little bit of talking to the dog. Reaching out, she picked up the mug on the bedside table, and drank. The liquid was tangy, like a lemon, but not nearly as tart. “What is this?”
Whatever it was, it was good.
“You’re awake.” Fendall strode into the room and pressed her palm on Adeline’s forehead, nodded, then set about fluffing her pillow. “It’s definitely gone. How are you feeling?”
“Worn out, but my head is clear. How long was I sick, and”—she held up the mug—“what is this?”
“Four days. Her ladyship was getting ready to send for another doctor. Thank the Lord your fever broke last night.” Fendall took the mug. “That is orange juice.” She sniffed and wrinkled her nose. “Lord Littleton had the fruit brought from his estate. I’ll order you a bath.”
His dog—he must have missed Maximus a great deal—and his oranges. What else had he done for her? The lavender. That must have been from him as well. Adeline did not remember it being used in a sickroom before. Frits must be the kindest man she knew. She must thank him . . . No, she must tell him how grateful she was for his care.
He was everything Adeline wanted in a husband.
A part of her was still the tiniest bit concerned that he was a rake. Then again, he was her rake, and he was not a bad rake. She wasn’t
making any sense. He loved her. What did it matter what he was before?
Adeline was not that hungry, but she must regain her strength if she wanted to see him. “Food.” But when she turned her head, her maid had gone. Maximus snored softly. “I might as well sleep a little myself.”
The splashing of water stirred her from sleep again. It would feel good to be clean. She swung her legs over the bed and sat, causing her head to swim, and collapsed back onto her pillows. “I must be even weaker than I thought.”
“Here, my lady.” Fendall rushed to the bed. “Let me help you.” She slid her arm under Adeline’s shoulders and slowly lifted her so that she was sitting up again. “Take a few breaths, and I’ll walk with you to the bathtub.”
It took longer than Adeline could have imagined it would, but she was finally lying in warm water while the upstairs maid changed her bed linens. She would have liked to have had her hair washed, but that would have to wait until she was stronger.
Maximus got down from the bed and, after looking at her, scratched on the door, and someone let him out. “I hope my mother allows him back in again.”
“Her ladyship’s gone out.” Fendall picked up a bucket of clean water and frowned. “Let’s see if you can stand while I rinse you.”
Adeline nodded, and her maid helped her rise. She wobbled a bit, but managed not to fall. “I should eat something.”
“Let’s get you dry and back into bed.” Once that was done, her maid tugged the bellpull and set about cleaning up the bath towels. “His lordship sent over what he called a pot liquor. His old footman swore it would have you strong again in no time.”
She found herself looking forward to discovering what kind of broth it was. In fact, she wanted to know more about the Littleton household. “Has Lord Littleton been here often?”
“Every few hours, from what I’ve been told.” Her maid went to the door. “He tried to sit in the corridor, but her ladyship chased him off.”
Oh, my.
The knowledge did more than warm Adeline’s heart. It made that organ beat so fast, she thought it would take flight.
“I love you.”
She loved him too. Really and truly loved him. Why she had not recognized it before she didn’t know.
