Chapter 2 #2
“All night? Wait... how long have I been unconscious?”
“A full day, and I will not deny you had us quite worried. But I think it was a good thing you were not awake while we cleaned the blood off you and attended to the most serious injuries. Our ministrations would have given you agonizing pain otherwise.”
He was still in significant pain but had no intention of complaining about it.
Florence frowned and then continued. “My grandfather managed to get a little laudanum in you while he stitched the gash to your forehead and the wound just under your ribs, but it wasn’t nearly enough and has long since worn off.
The other cuts and bruises were minor and easily treated, so we gave you nothing for those. ”
She nibbled her sweet lips for a moment before reaching out to lightly run the back of her hand along his neck.
He liked her gentle touch.
“You haven’t developed a fever yet. That is very good, and your eyes look clear.”
“Another good sign?”
She nodded. “Do you know who attacked you?”
“No, my angel.”
She rolled her eyes. “I am not your angel.”
Yes, she was.
He continued to study Florence because he seemed unable to tear his gaze away.
She had dimples when she smiled, and her eyes had a lovely sparkle to them.
Well, seems he had a weakness for dimples and sparkles.
He cleared his throat. “I had a letter with me...”
She smiled again just as the sun burst forth from behind a soft cloud and shone through the window to encircle her in a golden light. “Oh, yes. I have it in my bedchamber for safekeeping. Give me a moment and I’ll fetch it for you. Shall I also have some broth brought up? Are you hungry?”
“No food yet, I’m not certain I can hold anything down. But I would like that letter. Did you read it?”
She gave a curt nod.
“Then you know who I am?”
“Yes, Captain James Ryder, the Duke of Wellbourne’s emissary. Obviously, this correspondence is quite sensitive. I only read it because I was looking for something to identify you in the event... well, in the event you did not survive. You were in a very bad way yesterday.”
“Who else knows of my connection to the duke?”
“Besides me, only my grandfather, our carriage driver, Samuel, and our footman, Ethan. Samuel and Ethan escorted me to my Brighton modiste.”
“And were with you when you found me?”
“Yes, but you needn’t worry about them gossiping.
And I’ve only shown my grandfather the contents of your letter.
I’ve warned them all to tell no one of your relation to the duke.
They can be trusted to keep a confidence.
Lord Meade was not wrong in his concern for you, apparently.
I assure you, we shall all remain tight-lipped for now. ”
“I hope you are right. Servants have a tendency to gossip.”
“Samuel and Ethan are more like family than servants. They are completely honorable and know how to be discreet. Same for me and my grandfather. No one has to know anything until you are ready to reveal yourself.”
He chuckled. “I fear I have already revealed too much of myself.”
After all, he was stark naked beneath the covers.
She may not have seen all of him, but those covers were only drawn up to his waist. Was this not scandalous enough?
The girl was innocent, he realized when the jest brought a soft blush to her cheeks.
He liked this about her, too.
“Captain Ryder, if anyone asks about you, what shall we tell them?”
He gave it a moment’s thought, not liking to hide his true identity from Florence, but it was necessary for now. “Just tell them I am an acquaintance of your grandfather’s who was set upon by brigands while on his way to Swann Hall.”
“All right, but I might have to embellish a little. Those men who attacked you were not our usual crop of highwaymen.” She edged her chair closer to his bed. “Do you know who they were?”
“Not a clue.” He studied her when she leaned her elbows on the mattress and tried to stifle a yawn. He realized she must have been up much of the night along with her grandfather and was now exhausted, although she had managed to hide it well until now.
Her eyes still had a pretty sparkle to them.
“I only saw your assailants from a distance, but there appeared to be six of them, by my count,” she said, nipping her lower lip as she gave the incident some thought, “I did find it odd there were so many. I have never known our local brigands to operate other than alone or in pairs, such as our Captain Moonlight, since it means more profit for them if they do not have a gang to share the spoils.”
He arched an eyebrow. “My, that was quite detailed. Does this mean you are friendly with your local thieves?”
“Well, no,” she said with another blush to indicate she was not being completely truthful with him. “But one does have one’s suspicions, doesn’t one? Especially when one has lived here all of one’s life and has come to know most people around here.”
“Is that so? Are you one of those local brigands? Is this how you and your grandfather maintain your elegant home?” he teased, suspecting Florence had not an ounce of larceny in her soul.
In truth, she seemed good in every sense of the word.
Good-hearted. Good-natured. Good morals – too bad about that one.
Since she was not the sort to give away her favors, he had to keep his hands off her even though he would have liked to have them all over her. “Or perhaps you are Captain Moonlight? How intriguing, a female highwayman.”
“I have never stolen so much as a button in my life,” she retorted, unaware of his straying thoughts. “It is simply that our thieves do not attempt to kill their quarry.”
“Are you saying they are kind and gentle thieves?”
She sighed. “You are mocking me, but it is true. No one around here would do you such harm. Perhaps we ought to send word to the local magistrate. Would it not help to have him and his constables on alert? The more hands, the better, you know. This crime was egregious and really ought to be reported.”
“No,” he insisted. “Those men were after me and have no interest in harming anyone else. Nor will your magistrate ever find out who they are because I am certain these culprits are not local.”
“Then it has to do with London and the Foreign Office?”
“Florence, I cannot talk about my business.”
Florence pursed her lips. “Should you not get a missive off to Lord Meade? Will he not be worried, or perhaps might not attend the Somerville ball if he thinks you are dead?”
“Those villains cannot possibly be certain they killed me because they rode off before confirming I had drawn my last breath.”
“But what if they lie about this in order to collect their fee?”
He cast her an indulgent smile. “You like this sort of thing, don’t you?”
“What? Intrigue? Not really. I am more of a homebody. But you are in a dangerous situation, and does it not make sense to talk through all the possibilities?”
“That is good of you, Florence. But I am experienced at this sort of thing. Lord Meade will attend the Somerville party. He will not believe I am dead until he sees an actual body.”
“Oh, I see. Of course. Captain Ryder?”
“Call me James when we are in private. Captain Ryder when among company. Frankly, in time I hope you will call me something far dearer.”
“Dearer?” She shook her head, apparently confused.
Her eyes were already big, but they widened to the size of saucers when she finally caught his meaning. “Are you suggesting you have intentions toward me?”
“Suggesting it? No, I am stating it as fact.”
“What sort of intentions?”
“Honorable ones, I assure you,” he said, noting the blush on her cheeks and her sudden wariness. “Did you think I was delirious when I kissed you and called you my angel?”
Florence hastily glanced at her sleeping grandfather to make certain he was not listening in. Only then did she release a soft breath. “Yes, I did.”
Since she sat close to him, it was no hardship to reach over and give her hand a light squeeze. “I was in full possession of my faculties. It was you I kissed and wanted to kiss.”
She opened her mouth to speak, then closed it again, only to open it again a moment later. “You cannot be serious.”
“Why not? You are beautiful, intelligent, caring, and obviously of good character without being insufferably priggish.”
“Good grief.”
More in her favor, she was not a practiced flirt.
Not once did she bat her eyelashes at him or pretend he was witty, smart, or otherwise magnificent, as any other young lady would have done.
Then again, she had no idea he was actually the duke.
The unmarried duke.
She suddenly leaped to her feet. “Stay right there. Do not get out of bed. I’ll be back in a moment.”
“Wait!” He tried to reach for her hand again but she had already taken a step back, so all he managed to do was hurt himself. “Where are you going?”
She cast him an uncertain look and then hurried out.
“Blast.”
Had he revealed too much of his feelings? Moved too fast?
She was a modest girl, after all.
Perhaps this was something he needed to work on.
He had never wooed a young lady before.
His encounters with the female persuasion were best described as assignations. Seductions. Eye contact. A quick nod. A meaningless amusement in a boudoir or secluded niche.
Gad, he needed reforming, and Florence was just the woman to do it.
Would she give him the chance?