Page 82 of The Duchess in His Bed
While he removed the countess’s shoes, Lena loosened buttons in order to loosen stays.
“I’m so sorry,” the countess muttered over and over. “The salmon must have been bad.”
“Don’t be troubled, my lady,” he told her. “The doctor will be here shortly.”
“I didn’t want him to take you.”
After bringing a blanket over to her, he settled at her side and clasped her hand. “You’re not to worry yourself over it.”
“He told me you would be well cared for.”
“I was. Ettie Trewlove was a marvel of a mum.”
“Please don’t hate me.”
“I would never.” His father, yes. This woman, no.
He was aware of Lena pouring water from the pitcher into the bowl at the washstand. Soon after, she came over, eased down onto the bed, and began wiping the woman’s brow.
“Your Grace, I’d not expected to see you here.”
“Perhaps you’d be so kind as not to mention my presence to anyone.”
“I’m never one to gossip. I am, however, utterly embarrassed to put you to such bother.”
“My lady, it’s my privilege to tend to you. I’m only sorry you’re feeling so poorly.”
With a little cry, the countess rolled onto her side, brought her knees up, and pressed a hand to her belly. “I may retch again.”
Aiden grabbed a bin and brought it over. “Do what you must. I’m going to fetch some milk. We’ll see if that will help to settle your stomach.”
He was quick about popping down to the kitchens to grab a pitcher of milk and a glass. When he returned to his rooms, he was alarmed to see her looking frailer, paler. It didn’t help matters that Lena appeared more worried.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, he slid his arm beneath her slender shoulders and lifted her slightly, holding the glass against her lips. “Here, my lady, drink this.”
With a grimace, she slowly sipped.
“That’s it. Just a little at a time.” He cooed with encouragement, praising her further.
After she drank a good bit and shook her head, he set the glass aside and eased her back down to the pillows. With her cloth, Lena wiped gently at the countess’s mouth.
Moaning softly, Lady Elverton closed her eyes. “Will you tell me of your childhood, Mr. Trewlove?”
If she was looking to be absolved of guilt, he very much doubted she wanted to hear the truth of that, the many nights he went to bed with his gut gnawing at his spine for want of food, how callused and rough his soles became for want of shoes, how often he shivered until he feared his teeth would loosen for want of coal or a proper-fitting and less frayed jacket. “Under the circumstances, I should think you could call me Aiden.”
Her mouth curled up slightly. “Luke. I thought of you as Luke. The first was Matthew. Then Mark. Luke. John. Johnny. I was able to keep Johnny, Viscount Wyeth, because I was Elverton’s wife by then.” The words came slowly, a breath taken between each one.
He squeezed her hand. “Save your strength, my lady, and rest easy. We’ll talk later.”
“I need to make things right with you. I don’t know how much longer I have.”
“The earl told me you were unwell,” Selena said softly. “Do you know what ails you?”
“A husband who wishes to be rid of me. He favors young and beautiful women. The years have taken their toll on me and my looks have faded.” Her eyelids struggled to lift as though she found them heavy as irons. Slowly she turned her gaze toward Lena. “Take care, Duchess. He’ll have his eye on you.”
Selena had never known her bones to feel so cold as she stood before the fireplace in the front parlor, striving to find some warmth in the dancing flames, while Dr. Graves, who had arrived only a short time ago, was examining the countess. Aiden sat in a nearby chair, his forearms pressed to his thighs, his head bent.
“Why didn’t you leave?” he asked somberly.
