Page 54 of Taken By the Broken Duke
Juliet paused on the stairs, glancing back. This sudden kindness and solicitude surprised her. She wondered what game her aunt was playing and then berated herself for her suspicion. Of all the things Aunt Margaret was, including shallow, venal, and cruel, when a man's life was in the balance she was, after all, a human being.
“Thank you, Aunt Margaret,” Juliet murmured cautiously, “that is kind, and I am both famished and parched.”
Aunt Margaret smiled thinly. “Consider it arranged.”
Juliet hurried up the stairs, putting her Aunt from her mind. She quickly made her way to Horatio's chambers. Knocking briefly, she let herself in. Hall had stripped his master and was gently washing the wound from which he had removed the bloody dressing. A ceramic dish sat on Horatio’s bedside table.
As Juliet drew closer, she saw that it was full of wriggling maggots. Hall glanced up at her approach and covered Horatio's nakedness with bedclothes, drawing them up to his waist.
“Doctor might disagree, but I know what I know,” he said gruffly. “Maggots work every time on a festering wound.”
“I believe you,” Juliet murmured, her voice growing faint at the horrific sight.
She sat on the bedside opposite Hall and reached over for the basin of water that Hall had been using to wet strips of linen. She took a strip, squeezed excess water from it, and began to mop Horatio's brow. She could feel the blistering heat of his skin even through the linen.
Hall glanced at her, then gave a nod of satisfaction. Juliet felt a flush of pride that she had met with his approval. He seemed a competent man, once owner of an inn and a sailor. His mannerin taking care of Horatio told her of his knowledge and skill. It never once occurred to Juliet that he was of a lesser social rank and she should not care what he thought of her. Mr. Hall was a fellow human being, that was all.
She kept moistening the cloth, reapplying it to Horatio's forehead in a bid to cool his body temperature. Presently, there was a knock at the door and a servant entered with a tray. Juliet's nostrils picked up the scent of freshly baked bread. Her stomach grumbled, earning a stern look from Hall.
“Take some bread and cheese. You'll do no good to His Grace if you fall on him from hunger,” he said with typical bluntness.
The servant set down the tray which also held a teapot and cup. A jug of honey sat beside the cup. Juliet began by pouring a cup of tea and applying a generous amount of honey. The servant was a young maid with curly black hair and round, rosy cheeks. She glanced up at Juliet briefly as the tea was poured, then looked away with a blush. Juliet tried to recall her name but could not. The girl opened her mouth as though to speak, then closed it suddenly. Hall looked up.
“Was there something else, Nelly?”
“No, Mr. Hall, nothing else,” Nelly stammered with wide eyes.
Again, she peeked at Juliet. Juliet took a deep swallow of tea.
“Then go about your duties, Nelly,” Hall chided.
She almost sprinted from the room.
Juliet finished her cup and poured another. “This is excellent tea, quite unlike anything I have had before.”
Hall nodded. “His Grace insists on only the finest blends…” he uttered, rather distracted by his thoughts. “I do not know what has gotten into that girl. She is not normally flighty.”
Juliet took a plate from the tray and put a slice of bread and a generous piece of cheese beside it. She carried it with her tea back to Horatio's bedside.
“Maybe she is discomfited at the sight of her master in such a condition,” Juliet suggested.
“More than likely true,” Hall replied. “I will leave His Grace to your care until the sawbones gets here.”
“Thank you, Mr. Hall. You are a good man.”
The butler inclined his head to her.
“Aye,sir,” he said with the hint of a smile.
As he departed the room, Juliet turned her weary gaze to Horatio. The warmth of the sweet tea settled in her, loosening the tight knot of her nerves. Now, with the comfort of a chairbeneath her and quiet around her, exhaustion descended like a heavy cloak.
She pushed the plate aside, drained the last of her tea, and set the cup down with a soft clink. Folding her arms on the bedside, she rested her head against them, her lashes fluttering shut. Sleep swept over her.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Juliet’s eyes fluttered open, her gaze drifting to the familiar ceiling of her chamber at Wetherby House.
For a moment, she lay still, her breath shallow, as though the slightest movement might dispel the fragile illusion. The sight was so ordinary, yet it felt so disconcertingly…wrong? She was in her nightdress, the soft mattress beneath her as familiar as her own reflection, yet the weight of unease pressed down on her.
