Corey McFadden (16 page)

“He would say that. I don’t think I can stomach another bowl of broth in this lifetime. What I should like, though, is some tea.” His voice was growing stronger and he seemed more alert.

“I’ll ring for it at once. I daresay the kitchen will be only too pleased to get a request from you, my lord.”

He settled himself back into the pillows and closed his eyes again. “I swear, it makes me tired just to sit up. What the devil kind of disease is this anyway?”

“It’s been most virulent, my lord. The doctor says there have been many deaths. A number of families have fled to the country, but most of them take the contamination with them. The theaters have closed and the markets are deserted. Mrs. Formby says she’s never seen anything like it. Some are comparing it with the Black Death, but that’s just hysteria; far fewer are actually dying. And most people didn’t recover from the plague, as I recall...” Maude trailed off, aware of the earl’s eyes on her.

“You are an interesting puzzle, Mike. You don’t talk like a street waif, and I cannot recall ever having had a historical discussion of the Black Death with any of the lower staff before. How do you come by such knowledge?”

Maude felt panic rising within her at his words. She had grown so comfortable in the household over the last three weeks. Everyone seemed to accept her at face value, and with the exception of the few questions about her circumstances in the beginning, no one pried into her background. She had seen right away that it would not really be necessary for her to mimic the lower-class London inflection, as many of the servants in the earl’s household were country-bred and spoke with a creditable accent. Other than curtailing her upper class vocabulary and knowledge of strict grammar, and feigning ignorance on matters which would naturally fall outside her ken as a servant, Maude had made little adjustment in her manner or speech. It had proved easier to sustain her disguise in that she did not have to watch every word that came out of her mouth.

And now she had made a fatal misstep; she had relaxed too much with the one she most needed to deceive.

“I see you are uncomfortable at my questions, Mike. I have wondered if there is more to your story than you have told us so far. Still, I will respect your privacy. You have proved yourself worthy of our trust and gratitude, so I will pry no further. Besides, you’ve clearly been trained by a master stable master. You’ve a fine hand with the animals as far as I can see.”

“Thank you, my lord. Horses are what I love best in the world, I guess.”

She felt a little prickle of self-pity in her relief. The horses were all she had to love, or to love her back. Still, the earl seemed content to let things be, so perhaps she was safe for a time. And although there might be some inkling she was not all what she claimed to be, no one seemed to have the least suspicion that she was really a girl.

There was a knock on the door, and one of the maids pushed it open, carrying a tea tray. The girl beamed at the earl and placed the tray on a cart near the bed. She knew better than to address his lordship directly, but Maude was amused and touched to watch the way she smiled at him while she fussed with the tea service. Clearly, these people were not frightened of their master, and seemed genuinely fond of him. Maude could not recall having seen a servant smile at Aunt Claire since the day she arrived. The domestic climate at Romney Manor had been one of fear and mistrust for years.

“Thank you, Emma. This will do nicely.” He took the cup that she proffered, and she curtsied and made her way to the door.

He knew all their names, Maude thought, impressed. There must be twenty staff members in the household and he knew everyone by name. Aunt Claire only addressed senior staff by proper name. Everyone else was “girl” or “boy.”

Maude had not been surprised by the seemingly genuine concern that had gripped the household as news of the seriousness of the earl’s illness had spread. She herself had spent the week before he was stricken working side by side with him, sharing the most menial tasks and meager meals. She had found him good-natured and willing, and, most important, able to discard his status without a thought. She could not think of a single instance when he had pulled rank on her, or caviled at an unpleasant or servile chore. And throughout the days, she had found herself growing fonder of him, and less fearful that he would discover her true identity and send her home.

As Emma opened the door to leave, she surprised Mrs. Formby, raising her hand to knock. The woman peered into the room before venturing to enter.

“It’s all right, Mrs. Formby. I was just going to ask Mike to ring for you. He’s been most anxious to awaken you from your well-earned sleep, but I have stayed his eager hand.”

“I am so delighted to see your lordship so much improved. You were most gravely ill. Mr. Mathes was quite pessimistic for a time.”

Maude was amused to see that even the austere Mrs. Formby stood and beamed at the earl.

“I see you are having your tea. What else can we do to make you more comfortable, my lord?”

“I suppose I shall have to attend to my correspondence, Mrs. Formby. Are you aware whether anything pressing requires my attention? I do believe I have been so rude as to miss several engagements over the last several days.”

“Yes, my lord, but I took the liberty of sending notes explaining that your lordship was indisposed. I rather think, actually, that most of the functions were canceled, since so very many have been stricken with this vicious disease.”

Mrs. Formby spoke with unaccustomed passion, and Maude did not think the woman would ever forgive this influenza for laying her low in the face of her responsibilities.

“Quite right, Mrs. Formby. Thank you for attending to those matters. You might bring me what correspondence has gathered during my illness and I shall sort through it.” He took another sip of his tea, and paused as if he needed rest after so much conversation.

“I understand you have had a very difficult time, and that Farnsworth remains bedridden.” He felt tired now, and his voice had lost its strength.

“Yes, my lord, the doctor has ordered him to remain in bed for at least another week. He is most distraught but he clearly does not have the power to rise at the moment. I have put Martin in charge of the butlering. Martin is improved, although I must say, he moves about as if he is not quite up to snuff himself. Frankly, I don’t think anyone is. Vicious disease.”

“I know whereof you speak, ma’am. I do not recall ever having been so discommoded in my life. I am not at all sure I can rise myself. I would, however, like a bit of something to eat and”—he raised his hand peremptorily—“I do not mean broth. Coddled eggs, perhaps, and toast. Something mild, of course. I suppose I’ve eaten nothing for three days?”

“Indeed, my lord, only a bit of broth we managed to ladle down you,” the housekeeper said.

Maude giggled and even Mrs. Formby showed a semblance of a smile.

“Gad! Well, that explains why I feel so rancid! All right, I suppose I’ll improve at some point, perhaps after I eat. Oh, and I would like a bath, I think, after I’ve eaten. Young Mike, here, can attend me.”

“Very well, my lord, I shall see to it at once, If your lordship will excuse me...” She nodded and swept out of the room.

“Well, if she’s back in the saddle, everything will be back to normal in no time, won’t it, boy?” The earl settled gratefully among his pillows and closed his eyes for a quick rest. He did not notice the stricken look on young Mike’s be-freckled face.

* * * *

In the servants came, two by two, carrying between them large copper buckets of steaming hot water which they poured into the tub standing by the fireplace behind a screen. The fire was built up, and a large pot of water was on the boil for use in keeping the bath from cooling too rapidly. Mrs. Formby feared he would take a chill, but the earl was most adamant that he would have a bath.

Mrs. Formby took Maude into the dressing room and showed her where to find the bath things, the thick bars of richly scented soap, the lush, large towels, and the dressing gown and slippers, which must be warmed on a rack by the fire and held ready for the earl to step into after his bath. If anyone noticed that Mike was not himself this morning, it was chalked up to the rigorous schedule the boy had been keeping over the past two weeks.

And then they were all gone and Maude was alone with the man to whom she must now give a bath.

“I suppose I’ll need help just getting out of this bed. I don’t have the strength of an infant.”

The earl sat up slowly as he spoke and swung his legs out from under the covers. He was wearing a nightshirt made of fine cambric. Mrs. Formby had insisted he be properly attired, even for a sickbed.

“Perhaps you really should not attempt this today, my lord. What if you fell? I have not the strength to hold you up.”

She looked at him with some slight hope, then glanced quickly to the carpet as she noticed that however long his nightshirt might be, it certainly had not found its way to his legs which were visible now to the top of his thighs as he sat on the side of the bed.

“Nonsense, boy. A little bout of influenza will not make a weakling out of me. I’ll just need your shoulder to steady me as I walk. I feel as though I haven’t used my muscles in years.”

The earl began to rise, rather gingerly, as he held his arm out for Mike. She walked over to him, noting with relief that as he stood, his nightshirt fell to his knees.

He was weak, weaker than he would admit. She could feel his unsteadiness as he gripped her shoulder and they made their way slowly to the tub. Next to the tub was a large wing chair which he leaned against for a moment to catch his breath.

“Damn this infernal fever, anyway. It is absurd for me to have such trouble walking a few steps. My very bones ache.”

He began to unbutton the top buttons of the shirt. Well, she had seen his chest already, at any rate. She had certainly sponged it often enough in the last few days.

“It really is normal for you to feel this weak, my lord, after such a high fever. You’ll be right again in no time, you’ll see, but you mustn’t be too ambitious at first; it will only set you back.”

She moved to the side of the chair as he lowered his hands to lift the hem of the shirt. Perhaps, if his back was to her, she could just turn her head away as he removed it, and he would not notice.

“Help me get this dratted thing off, would you, boy? I’m so dizzy I could fall over.”

With a glance to the heavens for absolution, Maude moved forward and stood at his back. She pulled up the gown, while he braced himself against the chair. So much for her resolution not to look. There, before her, in all his glory was the ninth Earl of Radford. Naked. From the rear, to be sure, but naked all the same. And a magnificent sight he was. His broad back rippled with powerful muscles, and tapered to a narrow waist and hips. His buttocks were taut and rounded, and below, his thighs and calves were well-shaped and muscular. And embarrassed or not, Maude had to appreciate such perfection. Thank heaven he could not see her face. She was beet-red to the roots of her hair!

Afraid to come any closer, she slipped her hand under his elbow and guided him forward to the bath, keeping to the rear of him. When they reached the tub, he lifted his foot over the rim, using her shoulder to hold himself steady, and lowered himself into the steaming water. Maude turned away, intent on escaping to a chair at the far end of the room.

“All right, boy, I suppose you’ve never given a bath to an indisposed peer of the realm before, have you? Bring that cake of soap and cloth over here and I’ll teach you.” Radford lay back in the tub, his eyes closed, relaxing his fever-sore body in the warmth of the water.

Maude moved leadenly, gathering the bath items, then came to stand behind the tub.

“You can wash my back,” the earl said. “I’ll take care of the rest. Hand me the soap. I’ll do my hair first, and then I’ll need you to pour fresh water over my head to rinse the soap out.”

Radford reached out and Maude placed the sweet-smelling cake into his hand. She pulled up a small footstool and sat behind the tub, anything to keep his back to her! With a little luck she could confine her activities to back-washing and water-pouring. Nothing so terribly improper in that, if one overlooked the sight of him climbing rather magnificently into his bath.

Maude blushed again at the thought. Why, oh why, was she having such an odd reaction to the sight of him? She knew full well that as a proper maiden she should be faint with horror and utter revulsion. And she was not. No, he was indeed beautiful, and she stared at his broad, bronzed back with rivulets of soapy water trailing down it, and felt a longing to trace the paths of the drops with her fingers, very gently.

All of her upbringing screamed at her—in Claire’s voice as a matter of fact—that this was an unpardonable, loathsome situation, and that she was soiled irrevocably by the very circumstances. But another voice, softer, perhaps, but clearer nonetheless, seemed to be laughing uproariously, as if enjoying a good joke. There was a war going on inside of her and all she could do was stare at his back.

“Do you think you can pour the bucket over my head and not slop it all over the room, boy? This is not like scrubbing down a horse.”

“No, a horse wouldn’t be so finicky, my lord,” Maude heard herself saying before she remembered that the man was not only an earl but her employer as well. She picked up the bucket and made ready to douse his soapy head.

“I would retort, monkey, but it’s occurred to me that you are holding the bucket of water at the moment. Now gently, slowly. Let me work it through so that all the soap rinses out.”

Maude poured the water and he massaged it through his scalp. She was mesmerized by the soapy water running down his back.

“That should do it. You have possibilities yet, Mike. Perhaps you’ll make a good valet one of these days and be the very terror of some poor old doddering duke.” He wiped the water from his eyes as Maude giggled. “Now, let’s see how good you are at scrubbing. Take the cloth and soap it up and have a go at my back. This warm water is doing me some good. I don’t feel quite so stiff and sore as I did.”