Page 62 of The Moonstone Marquess
Gunyon cast him a worried glance as he set aside Cormac’s clothes and helped him to wash up. “My lord, have I done something wrong?”
“No, I’m angry with myself.”
“Why, if I may be so bold as to ask?”
“Look at me, Gunyon. I cannot even wrap a towel around my waist without your help. It gets to me sometimes…often, as you well know, since you are usually on the receiving end of my frown. It is not your fault, of course. The failing is in me.” Especially now that he wanted to marry Phoebe.
He did not like to think she would be marrying a helpless man.
More than anything, he hated the thought of Phoebe watching him struggle through this nightly bedtime ritual on his own. He wouldn’t be so stupid as to ever try it. But he also hated the thought of having her watch Gunyon tend to him as though he were feeble and incompetent.
His valet was a good man, and now Cormac had him worrying. “My lord, we all need help in different ways. This is nothing. Are you not relieved you are not in the same circumstances as Lord Rothmere or Lady Hopewell’s husband? Now that is cause for misery. Indeed, I expect the lords and their ladies are quite the unhappiest lot.”
Cormac laughed. “That’s true. Thank you, Gunyon. Don’t mind me. This is no more than my constant grumbling. I’ll see you at the usual time tomorrow morning.”
“Very good, my lord.” Gunyon gathered Cormac’s clothes and boots and quietly left his quarters. The clothes would be cleaned and pressed by morning, and his boots would be polished to a shine.
This was what valets did, among other tasks. But Gunyon had also taken on the role of encouraging parent.
Cormac did not mind, but it also served to point out how much the loss of his arm had taken from him. He’d lost so much of his self-respect along with his limb.
But as his valet said, everyone had problems and weaknesses. And most peers employed valets.
So why was he getting so bent out of shape over Gunyon helping him undress?
Cormac knew the answer. He was afraid Phoebe would take a look at him one day and decide he was the grotesque cripple Seline had called him.
The witch was not so far off the mark. There were days he thought of himself as exactly this.
How long before Phoebe thought so, too?
Chapter Twelve
Phoebe was relievedcome morning when Imogen appeared fully recovered. They’d slept later than usual, and Ella and Chloe had done the same. But it was well past time for them to stir, for the sun was arcing in the sky and it seemed to be another gorgeous day in the making.
Imogen, perhaps missing her mother after not feeling well last night, wanted to cuddle with Phoebe a little while longer. Ella came into her bedchamber. “What happened to Imogen?”
Phoebe scooted over so Ella could climb in with them. “Her tummy was upset, but she’s fine now.”
Ella looked at her with her big, innocent eyes. “Mine was upset, too.”
“It was? Oh my. Then you had better get some cuddles, too,” Phoebe said, knowing Ella was perfectly fine, for the girl had a big smile on her face as she nestled beside her.
Chloe walked in, washed and dressed for the day. At least one of them would be presentable when Cormac arrived. “Goodness, is there a party going on? Why wasn’t I invited?” She jumped on the bed and had the girls squealing and laughing as she tried to snuggle in, too.
They were all laughing and making so much noise that they did not hear Cormac arrive. Well, the girls must have heard him, for they suddenly bolted out of bed and hurried downstairs barefoot and wearing only their little nighties.
She and Chloe tore after them.
Phoebe was halfway down the stairs before she realized why the girls had run off. Cormac now had one of his nieces in his arm and the other was clinging to his leg.
His mouth gaped open when he caught sight of her.
She was also barefoot, hair unbound, and wearing only her thin nightgown. She froze and stared back at him, her entire body warming under the heat of his gaze. “Heavens!” Sheeepedand ran back upstairs.
Chloe and the girls were laughing.
She really had to lecture her sister on proper behavior. Chloe should have been appalled, not holding her sides and laughing hard. “You needn’t dress on the marquess’s account. I don’t think he minds at all,” Chloe called up to her.
