The Rogue's Seduction
Page 21
She returned his grin. ‘And you were snoring loudly enough to wake Perth.’
Fitch shook his head. ‘No. His lordship can sleep through cannon fire when he is tired enough or wounded. My snoring is not enough to rouse him. Trust me on that.’
‘I suppose I must,’ Lillith said, believing him, having already seen the proof. ‘Now go. The doctor should be here soon.’
‘Call me if you need help,’ Fitch said, casting one last glance at the Earl who still lay fast asleep.
‘I will,’ Lillith promised.
No sooner had the door closed behind Fitch than Lillith strode to the bed and looked down at Perth. His thick black hair fell in several waving hanks over his broad forehead, making him look young and vulnerable. Not even the silver wings at his temples could detract from the image. Ebony lashes lay fanned across his high cheekbones. Even his scar seemed relaxed.
Softly, so as not to wake him, she brushed the hair back. The backs of her fingers grazed his skin. She stopped. He was hot. She cupped his face in her palm. He was very hot. Worry puckered her brow.
She stepped back and looked for water. She knew from her own experiences that cool water could help bring down a fever. She found what she sought on his shaving table. She poured the liquid from the pitcher and dipped a convenient cloth in. She wrung the excess moisture from the fabric and went back to Perth.
His eyes were open and he watched her.
‘You are awake,’ she said inanely.
‘What are you doing?’ he asked, his voice barely a rasp.
‘I am going to sponge you. You have a fever,’ she said calmly, not wanting to upset him with her concern.
‘I am thirsty,’ he said. ‘Is there water to drink?’
She laid the cloth on his forehead before returning to the pitcher and pouring a glass full of water. She took it to him and held his head while he finished the entire thing.
‘Thank you,’ he murmured, his voice a little less harsh. ‘I needed that very much.’
‘You are welcome,’ she said, setting the glass on a nearby table. ‘Now lie still and let me sponge you. You will feel much better for it.’
He gave her a smile that was almost, but not quite, lecherous. ‘I am sure that I will.’
She eyed him narrowly, wondering if he felt better than she had thought. When he closed his eyes, she decided that he did not. She stroked the damp cloth over his face until the material felt warm, which was not long. At this rate, she would need to move the pitcher and bowl closer to the bed. She did so, but not without some difficulty. When she was finished and once more looked at her patient, he was watching her with a grin.
‘Very diverting,’ he said. ‘Why did you not call Fitch to help?’
‘Because he spent the night watching you. It is my turn now while he gets some much-needed sleep.’
‘The two of you are trading off duty?’ he asked, an unreadable look in his eyes.
She nodded. ‘The doctor should be here soon to check on you.’
‘And you,’ he added firmly. ‘How are you doing? And the babe?’
She stopped wringing the cloth out and looked at him. She saw concern. ‘We are both fine. Doctor Johnson said we were doing better than you.’
‘That young man was very opinionated. Fitch could have done as well.’
She turned to him, hands on hips in exasperation. ‘Then why did you even bother sending for a doctor if you did not value his opinion?’
He looked as though the answer were obvious. ‘Because Fitch could have cared for me, but he has no experience with pregnant women.’
‘Ah,’ she said sharply.
She turned abruptly away to dip the previously forgotten cloth back in the water and to hide her reaction to his words. Everything he had done yesterday had been for her and their child. First he had come after her in Hyde Park. Then he had taken a bullet in the shoulder to protect her. And lastly, he had ordered a doctor he did not think he needed so that she and the child she carried would be cared for. His concern took her breath away.
She went back to his side with the damp cloth just as someone knocked on the door. ‘Come in,’ she said, laying the cloth once more on his forehead.
‘My lady,’ Simmons said from the doorway, his nose held fastidiously high, ‘there is a…person…here who says he knows the Earl.’
Lillith smiled. Her butler was a snob. ‘What type of person is he?’
From the bed Perth asked, ‘Is he a ruffian with several teeth missing?’
‘Yes, my lord,’ Simmons said barely repressing a shudder. ‘And filthy.’
Lillith heard Perth chuckle, which was followed by a sharp intake of breath. She whirled around and marched back to his side. ‘You are to be more careful.’
‘I know what I am supposed to be,’ he said, throwing the cover off and swinging his legs over the side of the bed. ‘And I know what I intend to be.’
His face turned as white as the sheet riding low on his lean hips and he swayed to the side. Lillith grabbed him and held him to her.
‘You may go, Simmons,’ she said, not wanting the butler to see what would shortly be happening between her and her husband.
‘Tell the man to wait,’ Perth ordered just before the door closed. ‘Or I will have your hide,’ he said loudly. On a quieter note, he said, ‘That ruffian is important. He knows who attacked me several weeks ago and he might be able to find out who shot at us yesterday.’
Her brows rose. ‘That is quite a responsibility for a man that Simmons would just as soon throw out the door.’ She eased him to a sitting position against the pillows. ‘But that is unimportant. You do not feel well and should not be out of bed.’
‘Well,’ he said, pushing up, ‘I intend to stand on my own two feet shortly.’
She bent over him and put her palms on his chest to gently push him back. Heat emanated from his flesh even through the fine lawn nightshirt he wore. He swore as he fell backwards.
‘You are going nowhere. You have a fever.’ She kept her hands on him for fear that he would try and rise as soon as she removed them. ‘Perhaps after Dr Johnson has examined you.’
‘I will damn well do as I please, Lillith. This is not the first time I have had a fever, nor is it the first time I have been wounded. I never stay coddled in bed, and I have no intention of doing so now.’ His gaze ran seductively down her. ‘Unless you have something entertaining in mind that we might do?’
She flushed and her bosom ached. ‘No,’ she snapped.
‘A pity,’ he said, but with no real sound of regret. ‘Now you can help me or I will do it in spite of you.’
She met his challenging gaze without blinking. She knew by the tightness of his jaw and the glint in his eyes that he meant what he said.
With a sigh of resignation she ungraciously acquiesced. ‘As you demand. But let me check your bandage for bleeding first.’
He nodded. She unbuttoned his shirt and slid it off his shoulder. He leant forward enough for her to see the back. The wound was well wrapped.
‘Fitch changed it during the night,’ Perth said.
‘Ah, that explains why there is no blood.’
‘Or none that can be seen,’ Perth finished. ‘Now are you satisfied? I will even tell you how to tie a sling so that my arm does not pull down on the muscle.’
She moved back. ‘You obviously know much more about this than I.’
‘As I said,’ he said with seeming patience, ‘I have been through this before.’
He once more swung his legs over the edge of the bed. Again he swayed and his face blanched, but he remained upright.
‘Stay put long enough for me to get Fitch,’ she finally said, irritated with his stubbornness, but not wanting him to hurt himself further.
‘No,’ he ordered. ‘Fitch needs his rest. You can help me; by the time we are done with our visitor, the doctor will be here. After he leaves, we can wake Fitch.’
‘That is less than ideal,’ she muttered.
She eyed him from the corner of her eye, wondering if the tone of his voice was meant to be seductive or teasing or both. The sharp angles of his face and the tension that emanated from him decided her that he meant both.
‘Where is your robe?’ she asked, backing away from the attraction he had suddenly become. Even wounded he was the most virile man she had ever encountered. She shook her head in wonder and chagrin at her physical weakness where he was concerned.
‘Behind that door,’ he said, indicating a door she had not noticed before.
She entered his dressing room. A small trundle bed was tucked against one corner for Fitch if he felt the need although Lillith knew the batman had his own suite of rooms, unusual as that was, on the third floor. As she had always known, Fitch was not a servant.
An array of dressing gowns hung from pegs. ‘Which one do you want?’ she called.
‘The one you like best,’ he answered, which was no help.
Quickly, so as not to test his patience which she knew to be short, she grabbed the nearest one that looked like it would be warm. It was finest black cashmere embroidered in silver silk dragons. It would be warm and regal. Whoever the person was who waited for them would be suitably impressed.
She came out of the room and went to him. He stood with the help of the bed on which he had the hand of his good arm propped for support.
‘I would have helped you,’ she said in exasperation.
‘I am not a cripple, Lillith,’ he said with an edge to his words.
She stared at him. ‘Of course you are not, but you did not need to risk hurting yourself when I am perfectly capable of supporting you while you try to stand and get your bearings.’
He scowled. ‘I don’t like being dependent.’
‘No one does,’ she retorted, exasperated by his determined independence regardless of whether what he did was best.
‘Some more than others,’ he stated flatly, holding out his hand for the robe.
She was so disgusted with him that she threw the garment at him. He caught it with his good hand and proceeded to don it. It was small satisfaction when he pulled the sleeve up his bad arm and winced.
‘I might have saved you that pain,’ she said acidly. ‘Let us just hope that you did not start your wound bleeding again.’
‘It does not feel like it,’ he said, belting the sash.
She noted that he moved with increased confidence. ‘Some tea and food will help.’
He nodded. ‘And I am sure that our guest would like some.’ He glanced up at her after getting his slippers on. ‘You could order Simmons to set the breakfast table.’
She closed her mouth on a sharp retort.
‘Where is my cane?’ he muttered.
Minutes later she found it in the dressing room and brought it out to him. He took it and started slowly towards the door. She followed behind, wondering if she was strong enough to break his fall should he lose his balance. In the hall, she rushed ahead to order the food and find a footman to help Perth down the stairs. Her husband had already started down when she got back.
‘Let Robert help you, Perth,’ she ordered.
Perth stared pointedly at her. ‘Do you remember someone else using this very cane on these stairs, refusing to be helped? I do.’
‘Well, I did not climb all the way. Fitch helped me.’
‘I am going down, I think I can manage on my own. It is my shoulder, madam, not my leg.’ He took another step down. ‘You may go, Robert.’
The hapless footman looked from one of them to the other. Fuming, but knowing that Perth would do it his way, much as she had insisted on her way, Lillith said, ‘Yes, Robert, go and tell Simmons we will be down shortly.’
The footman bowed himself away.
Perth continued down the stairs and Lillith followed.
The smells of ham, beefsteak, coffee, hot chocolate and toast assailed her senses as she entered the breakfast room she had left barely an hour before. She watched Perth take his usual seat. She noted beads of perspiration on his forehead, but he moved with deliberation. Once she was assured that he would do, she studied their guest.
The man was a ruffian and everything Simmons had said about him was true. At the moment, he stuffed his mouth with beefsteak and gammon at the same time. One hand curled around a mug of ale, which he slurped with a full mouth.
Perth watched him with grim satisfaction, the lines around his mouth more pronounced than normal. Simmons entered and served the Earl his favourite gammon steak and kidneys. Eggs sat on a side dish with toast. Strong black coffee steamed in a mug. Perth ate slowly, careful of his wounded shoulder when he cut his food and lifted his fork since he was right-handed, the same side that was hurt.
Lillith sat down beside Perth, their guest having taken her normal place. She took tea and a piece of toast, sipping on one and nibbling on the other. She was not hungry, but she was extremely curious.
The man took his last bite and drank his last gulp, belched and grinned in satisfaction. ‘Thanks for the food,’ he said, his look anything but grateful. ‘I got the name you want, guv.’
Perth carefully set his fork and knife down. ‘Of the man who hired you to assault me?’
‘Assault? Oh, attack you. Yes.’ His grin widened. ‘Got more information I think you’ll be wantin’. Somethin’ about an attack in ’yde Park.’
Lillith jerked in surprise and her tea sloshed over the side of the cup to stain the white linen tablecloth. She noted that her husband took the extra news calmly, almost as though he had expected it.
‘They were ordered by the same man,’ Perth said flatly.
‘That’s right,’ the other man said, much as one might praise a child that has guessed the correct answer. ‘’Ow much is the flash cove’s name worth to you?’
‘I already know the man’s name,’ Perth said quietly, his voice sending shivers down Lillith’s back. ‘What I want from you is to tell my wife.’ He glanced at Lillith and then back to the man. ‘I will pay you well.’
The ruffian named a sum that made Lillith choke. She expected Perth to say no.
‘Simmons,’ Perth said, ‘go to the library and open the middle drawer of my desk. You will find a sheaf of bills. Bring them to me.’ Simmons left. ‘Now, the name.’
‘First the money.’
‘The name.’
‘’Ow do I know you’ll keep your word? The other one didn’t.’
Perth leaned forward, his left hand a fist on the table. ‘I am not the other man.’ His voice was cold. ‘You will do well to remember that.’
The ruffian edged back in his chair. ‘Right, guv. Right. No insult. Just can’t always trust a swell cove. They got the blunt, but they don’t always pay.’
Perth’s eyes blazed. ‘The name.’
‘Right. Wentworth.’ The man’s grin returned. ‘Rumour says ’e ’ired the men what shot at you yesterday, too. Me pal, Mike, says ’e ’eard it.’
Perth frowned in disbelief. ‘’Tis more likely your friend Mike was the one who shot me.’
‘No, guv. No,’ the other man said.
Through this Lillith sat frozen. Feeling rushed back like needles. ‘No,’ she murmured. ‘No, you are wrong. Your friend is wrong.’ But even as she said the words, doubt swamped her. It fitted. It fitted too well. ‘Oh, no,’ she whispered, sinking back into her chair and closing her eyes to close out the faces of the two men.
The ruffian’s eyes widened and he snickered. ‘Know the cove? ’E’s a nasty one, ’e is. Nivver paid me what he owed me for attacking the guvnor ’ere.’
Lillith opened her eyes and stared the man down. Whether he was right or not, he did not need to gloat. The urge to reach out and slap the grin from the man’s face was strong. She gripped the edge of the table instead. Her knuckles turn
ed white and her nails dug into the cloth.
‘Are you sure?’ she asked.
Even as she asked, she knew his answer would not change. Mathias had done too much. But why? It made no sense.
The man’s face darkened. ‘I ain’t uppity like the likes o’ you, but I keeps me word. All I got.’ He stood. ‘I don’t lie.’
‘Do you have proof?’ she demanded. ‘Or are we to take your word?’
The ruffian bristled. ‘Me word is me bond.’
Lillith looked away. All she was doing was taking her hurt and anger out on this man. If Mathias really had done this, then so be it, but until they had proof, she had to give her brother the benefit of the doubt.
Perth rose as well, careful not to move his right arm any more than necessary. ‘I believe you,’ he said quietly. ‘My wife is upset. You shall have your money.’
Simmons returned then with the bills. The pile was an inch thick. Perth took it from Simmons, fanned through it and handed it over.
Surprise made the ruffian’s mouth drop. ‘This is more than we agreed to.’
‘Take it,’ Perth said. ‘For your honour—and your discretion. I don’t expect to hear another word of yesterday’s incident or this conversation from anyone. Do I make myself clear?’
The man shot him a hard look but he kept the money. ‘Yes. Thanks. I gotta go,’ he added, moving around the table, careful to keep a wide berth between him and Lillith.
‘Please show our guest to the door, Simmons,’ Perth said.
Simmons bowed and hurried after the man who was scurrying out. Lillith watched them without conscious thought.
‘He was lying,’ she whispered. ‘He had to be. Mathias is many things, but he is not a murderer.’ She sank back into the chair and her hands dropped to her lap. Her gaze lifted. ‘But I understand that you must know for sure.’
Perth watched her find excuses for her brother—again, and the anger that he felt boiled to near-explosion point. ‘Why do you find it so hard to believe?’ he asked harshly.