Page 69 of The Marquess and the Maiden

It was an eternity, waiting for someone to come and rescue his wife. He’d been such a selfish bastard trapping her in a marriage with him. She merited someone who could at least protect her. A man who was whole, not him and his broken body and sad excuse for a heart. Even if he could offer her his love, what he had would never be enough to give her everything she deserved.

As if that had called it to life, the thump in his chest sped and tightened. He held her hand tightly and sent a prayer up to whoever was listening that she be safe, that nothing be too damaged. If she survived this, he’d set her free if that was what she wanted.

It seemed an eternity for the footmen to arrive and get her situated in her bed. The doctor had been in the room with her for nearly half an hour, and still Oliver knew nothing. Pacing was not an easy feat with a cane; it was loud and clumsy and painful, still he could not sit still. Finally, the doctor came out of the room.

Oliver held his breath.

“She is fine,” the doctor said. He wiped his hands on his apron. “I gave her some laudanum for the pain.”

“Her leg?” Panic ate at his insides.

“Sprained.”

Relief washed over him so strongly, he had to lean against the wall to keep from sliding to the floor.

“She should stay off it for a few days,” the doctor continued, “but there should be no lasting effects. The rest of her is bruised, but considering the fall she took, it could have been a lot worse. She’s fortunate you found her when you did.”

Oliver swallowed. “Can I see her?”

“She’s resting, but yes, you can. Don’t expect her to be too lucid until the laudanum wears off. I’ve left a bottle on the bedside table should she require additional pain relief.”

“Thank you, Doctor.”

“I’ll come back in a couple of days to check on her.”

Oliver stepped inside Harriet’s bedchamber and took in the sight of her. She looked so small tucked into the bedcovers that way. Her pale blond curls hovered across her pillow, a perfect halo. His beautiful, sweet wife. He needed to think of a way to convince her to stay, something that would prove to her he loved her and always would.

His heart thumped again. He needed to touch her, remind himself she was still here with him.

He climbed into the bed next to her, careful not to disturb her. He rolled to his side; he needed to be near her, to be close in case she needed him, to watch the even breaths she took as her chest rose and fell. What would he have done if he’d lost her? A wave of nausea rolled through him. She was everything to him now. As soon as he could figure out how, he’d show her precisely that.

…

Harriet woke up to a myriad of sensations, the first being the warm, solid band wrapped around her waist. Pain radiated from her ankle, and she shifted, bringing her further into contact with the solid wall behind her.

The wall that was her husband. She had dreamed that he sat at her bedside, looking haggard and worried. Then another dream of pressing kisses to her face. She’d considered them an effect of the laudanum the doctor had given her. But he was here, in the bed with her. It was the first time he’d ever stayed through the night.

His lips brushed against her ear. “How is your pain this morning?”

Was it morning? Darkness still permeated the room, and she saw no sign of the sun rising at the edges of the closed drapes.

“Bearable,” she said. It was likely the laudanum, but she’d slept better last night than she had in weeks. And to have awoken with her husband wrapped around her, she couldn’t prevent the slow smile if she tried.

“Christ, Harriet, when I found you at the bottom of the stairs”—his voice trembled—“I was terrified. I thought I’d lost you and then…” He nuzzled her neck. “I worried that your leg, that you would—”

“I know.” He had worried she’d be permanently injured the way he was. “Will you tell me about how that happened?”

He was quiet for several moments before he finally spoke. “After my father died, the solicitor came and spoke to me. We had lost everything. More than that, we owed so many people.” His hot breath feathered against her neck. “My father’s failed investments had taken from other families as well. It was up to me to put everything back to right.”

She wanted to correct him, to remind him that his father’s sins were not his own, but she didn’t want him to stop talking.

“I sold everything. Everything save Brookhaven. That I couldn’t bear to part with. I used the monies from the rest of the sales to pay off our debts, invested a portion, and used the rest to begin repairing the estate. It was in shambles. The roof leaked, the rooms were drafty and damp.” He moved his hand idly over her hip and thigh. “I was up on scaffolding, repairing a leak, and I fell.”

She gasped. She knew it was coming, knew something dreadful had happened, but having been to Brookhaven and seeing how high the ceilings were… It was a mercy he hadn’t been killed. “Oliver, you could have died.”

“I broke my femur, and the doctor couldn’t set it correctly. He said I should be thankful that I hadn’t broken my spine, that I’d eventually be able to walk, but I’d be limited with that leg.” He hugged her tightly. “My sweet Harriet, when I saw you lying in a heap at the bottom of those stairs…”

She lifted his hand to her lips.

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