Emily Hendrickson (22 page)

She changed her mind that evening when it seemed to her that his fever had risen. It required drastic measures! Her maidenly modesty would be ignored. This was not the moment to be timorous.

The maid brought a fresh bowl of water, peeping at Dru with curious eyes. Once alone with her patient, Dru propped a chair against the door, not wishing any unexpected visitors, and set to work. First she measured in some lavender oil. Then she placed the cloth to soak.

With trembling hands she rolled back the covers so that only one side of his chest was exposed. Heart pounding, she began bathing him, carefully wringing the cloth each time to prevent soaking the bed. It was unlike anything she had done in the past. The firmly muscled body was intriguing, a part of her mind noted even as her hand brushed against his heated body, arranging the sheets for decency. She checked his skin to see if the bath helped to cool him, unable to admit she wanted to know the feel of him, touch the dark hair on his chest. His muscled torso was a far cry from that of a child.

What would it be like to be his wife, to know this man in the biblical sense? She was unlikely to find out. But she envied that woman, whoever she would be.

He would never know what she had done for him. She was not about to tell him, wishing to spare her own blushes as much as possible.

She washed his strong arms and hands, marveling at the beautiful muscles—if one called muscles beautiful. Unwrapping strong legs—one at a time—was enough to send her heart into palpitations. She tried not to think, not to be so aware of his body, but it wasn’t easy.

Still, she persisted, rotating from one part of him to another, until she thought she knew
almost
every inch of him. After some time, when she was about ready to drop with fatigue, he stirred.

With proper haste, she dropped the cloth into the basin, rolled the bedcovers back over his body, then spoke.

“Lord Brentford? Can you hear me?”

“Water. I’m so thirsty.”

Dru smiled, a thrill of excitement racing through her. Her anxious prayers had been answered. Unless she was much mistaken, his fever was down. Perhaps not much, but she believed it had broken. Whether her drastic attack on him had served to help, she didn’t know. But she would do it again if needed! And bother the question of propriety!

Offering him a drink of cool water required that she raise his head. She propped him against her, then let him drink. He sipped, then lolled against her shoulder.

Before she could return him to his pillow, he looked up into her face, his dark eyes studying her with curiosity. “Dru? What . . . you doin’ here?”

“Keeping an eye on you.” She smiled at his expression.

“Shouldn’t be here. Not proper.” He frowned as though it was a great effort to think, let alone talk.

“Your mother requested my assistance. Rest assured I shall take the very best care of you. Now, back to sleep with you. You will feel better come morning.” She didn’t know this, of course, but she suspected his naturally strong constitution would help him to recover rapidly.

When Colyer came to relieve her, he commented on how much better Lord Brentford’s color was.

Dru fell into her bed exhausted, but satisfied she had done her best. Now it was up to Lord Brentford.

* * * *

Adrian shifted, untangling his legs from the sheets. Egad, he felt as weak as a kitten. A movement off to one side caught his eye. His valet quietly folded clothing.

“Colyer?” The man nearly jumped out of his skin at Adrian’s words. Surely he didn’t sound that bad? “How long have I been in this bed?”

“Several days, my lord. You have had us that worried. Took a terrible cold, you did.” The valet hurried to the bedside to offer a soothing drink of barley water, which his master swallowed with ill grace.

“Who was here—besides you?” Adrian recalled a face, but it was so unlikely. He wanted to know for certain.

“Your lady mother visited. And, of course. Miss Herbert tended you during the day. I stayed with you at night.”

Adrian absorbed this information in silence. So Dru
had
been here. He hadn’t imagined her voice.

“Why Miss Herbert?”

“She is skilled at nursing the sick. Seems she does it often at home.” Colyer smoothed the coverlet, then took the pillow from behind Adrian to fluff it nicely before replacing it. “That was one reason your mother sent for her in the first place. Mrs. Herbert had mentioned the nursing that her daughter had done in the neighborhood. They have no doctor, and the apothecary is often not available.”

“I see.”

“I doubt it, sir. The young lady was at your bedside from morning to dark. At times she would be up in the night to check on you. If you are on the road to recovery, it is likely due to her effort, no one else.” The valet nodded, then returned to his task of folding clothing.

Adrian subsided onto his pillow, wondering how in the world he could get out of the coil in which he now found himself! His mother expected him to marry Felicia—why else invite her to stay? He must ask her to marry him. She surely expected it. A true gentleman did not raise expectations in a lady.

His heart wouldn’t be in such a future. He wanted only to be with Drusilla Herbert for the rest of his life, however long that might be. How he hated being noble and doing what was proper.

A rap on the door heralded the entrance of Lord Ives. “Well, I must say it is good to see you looking better. You have given us a bit of concern.” Ives walked over to stand close to the bed, his gaze assessing.

“I feel like overcooked asparagus and twice as limp.” Adrian studied his friend, wondering what was bothering him. Something appeared to be, that was certain.

“Miss Herbert likely saved your life, you know.”

Adrian glanced to where Colyer remained on the far side of the room, then back to his friend. “I am told she spent her days at my bedside. I feel like someone poured a bottle of lavender oil over me.”

“She is of the opinion that it has healing powers.”

“Perhaps.” He paused a few moments. “Have you, ah, seen Lady Felicia?” Adrian inquired with caution.

“Oh, yes. She is fluttering about the house like a wounded butterfly. She wants taming.”

“I fancy you have the right of it, but how to handle the chit? Chastening her is not to
my
liking.”

Ives turned away to stroll over to the fireplace, where he stood staring into the flames for a time. “The weather is improving. We have suffered a spell of nasty rain.”

“I shall be up by tomorrow. We must think of something to entertain those here.” Adrian eased himself up against the pillows, wondering if his bones had turned to jelly when he wasn’t looking.

Ives turned again and shook his head. “I doubt you will feel like doing much.”

“Mother’s birthday. Perhaps a betrothal party?”

“Whose?”

“I imagine I must ask Lady Felicia to marry me. It seems Mother thinks it would be acceptable.”

“You show more enthusiasm for buying a horse than picking a wife.” Ives frowned, refusing to meet Adrian’s eyes.

“And so I do.” Adrian did not wish to get into a discussion of his forced choice.

“What about Miss Herbert?” Ives inquired.

“What about Miss Herbert?” Adrian shot back.

“Felicia was just remarking how insupportable it has been that she was not permitted to see you more than once whereas Dru Herbert was here all day, every day.”

Cynically, Adrian wondered if Lady Felicia had tried to see him more than that. “You believe Lady Felicia will tattle once she is in Town?”

“Felicia is not so dreadful,” Ives countered. “How can you think ill of the woman you contemplate marrying?” The expression in Ives’s eyes gave Adrian pause. What was going on here? He’d swear it was a touch of jealousy.

“I will do what is right—by all concerned. I am well aware of what is due my title and name, not to mention my mother’s expectations.”

Ives gave him a troubled look before leaving the room.

* * * *

Dru labored at pretending normalcy, while Lydia and Belinda, dear girls that they were, entertained Gregory Vane and Harry Metcalf. Why those two stayed on was more than Dru could understand. Harry scoffed at the touch of cold that kept Brentford from joining them.

Gregory Vane, perhaps a trifle more perceptive, commented on how little he had seen of Miss Herbert. “You have been like a pretty shadow around here, wafting here and drifting there. Bringing soothing drinks to the sickroom, were you?”

“You might say that.” Dru thought of the hours spent cooling Lord Brentford’s brow, the risky effort to cool his entire body. If anyone ever learned precisely what she had done, she would be ostracized forever!

“She was like a dragon,” Lady Felicia complained. “I wished to see dear Lord Brentford, and she guarded his bed as though I might do him harm.”

Dru turned aside, unwilling to look at the pretty face that spoke such a lie.

Gregory Vane took Dru’s hand, walking with her to look out over the gardens from the rear windows. “Why do I have the feeling that Lady Felicia is not telling the entire story?”

Dru smiled at him, thankful she had one friend in this assortment of people. “Perhaps her memory is at fault?”

“You are gracious as well as kind.”

Binky dashed into the room looking as though the little beast hunted for trouble. He spotted Dru and made for her at once. Before she could react, he had attacked her ankle.

“Next time I have the chance,” she said in a low, threatening voice, “I shall make certain that you are free to roam as you please.” She swatted the dog away, but not before he had chewed a hole in one of her best stockings. “Drat that dog,” she murmured. “I rue the day I went chasing after it, thinking to restore a pet to a worried owner.”

“Neither seem to be happy about it, do they?” he observed.

She grinned, thinking she could replace her stocking, but the friendship of this sympathetic gentleman was something she’d not wish to lose.

He leaned against the window surround, chatting about the flowers and the beauties of the area.

He straightened as someone entered the room. Dru turned away from the window as well.

“Lord Brentford!”

Adrian entered the room with less than his usual élan. The first thing he noticed was Dru having an intimate chat with Gregory Vane far across the room, away from all the others. And what might they have to say to one another?

Lady Felicia flounced up to his side, giving him a languishing look. “At last you join us. It has been dreadfully tedious with you holed up in your room. I vow, I had begun to wonder if Miss Herbert was keeping you captive up there.” She gave Dru a sly glance before turning her attention to Adrian.

“She said you came to see me. Once.”

“As to that, I was terribly weak. My brow, you know.” Lady Felicia artfully brushed her hair back to reveal the remains of her swelling, now a magnificent yellow-and-purple blend of color.

“I see.” And he did, in a way. He had been unconscious, unable to appreciate her heroic attempt. She far preferred an audience.

Miss Knight bustled into the room at that point, hunting around the room. “Has anyone seen my Binky?”

“He attacked Miss Herbert not long ago. Came dashing into the room and headed straight for her ankle.” Gregory Vane made as though to lift up Dru’s skirt, and she had to bat his hand away, chuckling at his words.

Miss Knight looked deeply offended. “Binky would never do harm to anyone.”

“It is of no consequence, Miss Knight. Perhaps he thought my ankle bone would be tasty?” Dru teased.

Miss Knight was even more offended at this attempt to jest at Binky’s expense. She sniffed, peering under several chairs before going off in the direction the dog had gone.

Adrian sought a chair, thinking it better to sit than try to stand. He was still weak and under no illusion that he could remain up for very long. Felicia trailed along behind him. He, in turn, watched as Dru Herbert flirted with Gregory Vane. There was no other word for it. The woman flirted, fluttering her long lashes, laughing in that charmingly husky way she had at some pleasantry Vane said for her ears alone.

“What is the problem, Adrian?’ Lady Felicia inquired, frowning at the sight of Miss Herbert and Gregory Vane in happy dalliance. “You do not approve of a connection between those two?”

“No.” Adrian knew he sounded too forceful in his denial. By Jove, he did not want Dru Herbert to take up with that fribble Gregory Vane. He doubted if Vane was ready to settle down as yet. He would flirt with Dru, break her heart, and leave her as he went on to some other, wealthier woman—someone with standing in Society as well as a fine dowry.

He happened to look up at Felicia at that moment and caught her studying Dru through narrowed eyes. As soon as she realized Adrian was watching her, she smiled, a halfhearted attempt.

He was tired, worn from the miserable effort to spend a little time with his guests. He took a deep breath and shut his eyes for a moment.

“Here, I think you could use this.” He drank the glass of sherry someone handed him. He knew who it was without looking or considering the voice. Dru Herbert was the only one in the room who would be aware of how weak he was, that he needed a bit of restoring.

“Perhaps I shall go up to my room for a time?” He pushed himself up from the chair, praying he wouldn’t sway or worse yet, collapse. He had been a fool to come down.

“Why not relax on the sofa?” Dru suggested dryly. “You could have us all at your beck and call. Even Binky might come to entertain you.”

“Heaven forbid,” Adrian muttered. He allowed Lady Felicia to assist him to the sofa. Dru offered a large shawl to Lady Felicia, who arranged it over Adrian with a show of concern. Why did he think it was a show and nothing genuine? Perhaps because of Ives’s reaction to something Adrian had said earlier. It had set him to thinking.

Gregory Vane sauntered over to study Adrian. “I would say—just offhand, you know—that you could do with a bit of peace and quiet, old man. What say Harry and I take ourselves off tomorrow? Too late to go today, not with the distance we must cover. But first thing tomorrow.”