Page 53 of The Duke of Daring (The Untouchables)
The blood had dried on his face, making him look somewhat fierce. “Not even my boots and coat?”
Lucy pulled her gloves off and tossed them onto a chair near the fireplace along with her hat. She longed to take off the wig and the facial hair, but she still had to get back to London, and she didn’t want Nora’s coachman to see her as a woman. Especially since she’d still be dressed in men’s clothing. She also shrugged out of her wet coat and hung it over the back of the chair.
She went to Dartford and took his hat. She considered setting it on the bed, but it was wet, so she dropped it on the floor. Next, she helped him out of his damp coat. She took it to the chair by the fireplace and laid it over the arms. “Someone needs to stoke this fire. I can do it if you like.”
“After the boots, please.”
She returned to him and knelt. “This is a side of you I haven’t seen. Very demanding. And somewhat austere. Why don’t you want your friends here? They were so eager to surprise you, and then they were horribly concerned when you landed so poorly.” She tugged his boots off in quick succession and set them to the side. His stockinged feet seemed impossibly intimate. She couldn’t dare to remove the hosiery and bare his toes. And yet she did. Without him even asking.
She first peeled one away, revealing a muscular calf covered with dark hair. She blushed, the heat in her face welcome after being outside in the chilly damp for more than an hour. She moved to the next leg, going even faster this time and paying less attention to the flesh she revealed with her ministrations.
She jumped up. “Better?”
“My head is killing me.”
Mrs. Alder came in then, carrying a tray with a small bottle, a larger bottle that seemed as if it must hold liquor, and a glass.
“I hope you brought gin.” Again his tone was on edge, and she wondered at this Dartford she’d never met.
“Of course, my lord.” Mrs. Alder poured from the smaller bottle and handed him the glass. “Tonic first, however.”
“You’re in charge, as always.” He lifted the glass and toasted her before drinking the brew. He wrinkled his nose and handed it back to her. “That’s even nastier than I remember.”
She gave him an imperious look, but her lips curved into a smile. “It hasn’t changed a bit.” She poured the gin next and gave it to him. She set the bottle on the table next to the bed. “I’ll leave this here.”
“You’re a gem among women,” he said before taking a healthy drink.
She turned to Lucy. “What can I get for you?”
Lucy was absolutely tongue-tied. The housekeeper looked at her with kindness and not an ounce of judgment. Did she know she was a woman?
“Mrs. Alder, this is Miss Parnell. She is not a physician, nor, as I’m sure you can see, is she a gentleman. Only you and Tindall will know the truth. I, of course, expect you will tell your husband, but I know he will be typically discreet.”
“Of course, my lord.” She nodded and looked to Lucy again. “Shall I prepare a room for you?”
“Oh, I won’t be staying. I’ll just make sure Dartford is all right, and then I’ll take my leave.”
“As you wish.” The housekeeper left, closing the door behind her.
Tindall came back from the other room. “Your bath is ready, my lord.”
Lucy took a step back. “I’ll build up your fire, and then I should probably go.”
“Stay until I’m finished.” He stood up from the bed with Tindall’s help. “Please.”
She shouldn’t. But she was powerless beneath the weight of his dark, earnest stare. She nodded and watched Tindall guide him from the room.
Turning, she went to the fireplace and stoked the fire. Once it was crackling and warm, she backed away and stood there until she felt the chill in her bones vanish completely. She walked to the windows and looked out over the lawn below. There was a garden, and a small maze, but it looked a bit overgrown.
It was late afternoon. She ought to leave soon.
Oh, what was she doing here at all? What a fool she’d been to come! She’d lost the wager, and she’d somehow become a physician. How would she maintain that façade in front of those men? And Dartford had slipped up—calling “him” a “her.” Had Greene caught it? It seemed he might have, given the attention he’d directed at her afterward. They’dalllikely caught it, but had they blamed it on Dartford’s fall? She hoped so.
She worried that it was time to end this charade once and for all. And she hadn’t yet earned anywhere near the funds she needed.
She heard movement and started to pivot.
“You might want to keep your back turned,” Dartford said.
