Chapter 7
Winn lifted Tio’s head. “Sip this, sweetheart.” He gazed at her with glazed blue eyes, but drank the tepid tea.
She eased him back to the pillows, then put her hand to his forehead. His fever had not broken.
She stood back. Dawn had not yet come, but faint light shown from the east. She had tended him all night long, dozing on the chaise longue in between ministering to the boy. But now it was time she went to get Bettington to tell him she had no good news.
If the little boy’s temperature did not fall soon, he would have less chance of surviving it. She knew this from last summer, when they had consulted the village local doctor about Tio’s fever and chills.
“A fever must break,” said Hugh Carlin, “in early hours of the morning, or it can be fatal.”
She whirled from Tio’s bedside, heading for the door. In the hall, she ran down the stairs to the second floor to the master suite. There, she caught her breath, a hand to the door frame. She was dizzy from her night of constantly tending Tio. She widened her eyes, got her balance and knocked.
Bettington ripped open the door—his dark hair wild, his red banyan loose about his waist. “I was just coming. Tell me.”
“He’s not good.”
Bettington seized her hand and strode with her up the stairs to Tio’s room.
When the little boy had become so ill yesterday, Bettington had moved William’s bed into the former governess’s room.
He had stayed with Tio and her until wee hours when Winn had insisted he leave them and go to bed.
He knew she did it also for propriety’s sake.
Reluctantly, he’d gone, making her promise to get him if Tio’s condition changed.
Now as they both looked down on Tio, the little boy murmured nonsense. His forehead glistened with his raging fever.
“We should bathe him,” they both said in chorus.
“I’ll get the maid to bring us more warm water,” she said to Bettington. The small bowl and cloths she had would not suffice for bathing all of his tiny body.
“I’ll go,” he told her. “You stay. Sing to him. He liked that when you did it last summer.”
She tried to smile. “I will. Go.”
Within minutes, he was back. In the meantime, she had removed Tio’s sleep shirt and his stockings. He burned and she could not stop the trembling of her lips or the shaking of her shoulders.
Bettington covered her hands and held. “Shall I take his toes and you his head?”
“Yes, first let me give him a fresh poultice for his chest.”
They worked, over and over again. Interrupted by the new maid who came with a pot of tea and another of coffee plus bread and jam, the two of them worked in concert. How long Winn did not know, save that the dawn had turned to a brighter day as Tio stopped his writhing and sank to a sound rest.
Then she laid the back of her hand over Tio’s forehead and stared at Bettington. “Am I imagining that he’s cool?”
“Not imagining at all,” he whispered with a glorious smile and tears in his eyes. He put down the cloth he’d used to bathe his son and pulled the sheet and blankets up to his little boy’s neck. Then he moved to Winn’s side.
This time, when he came near her and pulled her into his arms, she went like a magnet to his iron embrace. His lips in her hair, he whispered that she was bone tired. He did not want her becoming ill.
“Come sit with me,” he urged and picked her up in his arms and took her to the chaise longue. There he settled against the back and gathered her up against his chest. “Sleep. You need it. If he awakens, I will let you know.”
She closed her eyes and snuggled near to his warmth, his strength, her friend and the only man she could ever love.
The room was very warm when she stirred.
Realizing she could not sit up and that she was in Bettington’s embrace, she sank back down.
From this cozy cocoon, she could see that Tio still slept, his little mouth open, his arms wide.
She did not move as the fragrance of lemon and sandalwood permeated her being.
Bettington had always smelled of springtime and solidity.
She ached to belong to him. Never wished to part from him.
She burrowed into his strong essence. Suddenly, his fingers were in her hair, pushing back her long tendrils from her cheek and her throat.
“My dearest Winn,” he breathed against her lips, “this is how I have wanted you near me, so close one to the other, united in all we do.”
Her head cradled in the crook of his arm, she did not move but, as once she had last summer, she crossed the distance that separated them and put her lips to his. Once again, she was met, not with his surprise this time, but with his fire and his fierce claim of countless kisses.
She did not stop but went, careless to the consequences, her nails clutching at the heavy silk of his banyan. He sent kisses down her throat, across the exposed expanse of her simple muslin gown. Ignited by his flames, she wanted only his possession.
He cupped her cheek. His sky blue eyes devoured her in a look of love. “Winn, my darling. I want to marry you.”
This could make her life divine. To be his in word and deed would be all she ever asked for in this world. “Sweet man. That cannot be. You are an earl.”
“That is a title granted to a distant man. Who knows if he ever wanted it or was even happy of it.”
She pulled herself to sanity. “Whoever he was, whatever he wanted, you have it as your own. Rules come with that. Rules long standing among your peers.”
His fingers in her hair, he did not look into her eyes.
“My days are not consumed with the duties of my title. I live here in London, but the work I have done over the years to manage the land and the tenants is very good. I have ensured the prosperity of my estate. I now have time for politics for bills I know are important to Britain’s integrity. ”
She shook her head. Confused.
“What’s more, I have lived here in London but each time I go to the Grange, I have learned to enjoy my days more than I ever have before. I value you and each moment with you more.”
“Impossible. You do not know me.”
He seized her hand. “But I do. I know you like to read and dance. I know you carry a tune very well. You play the piano with a modicum of accomplishment.”
“Don’t be too kind.” She grimaced at him.
He gave a laugh. “My darling Winn, I know you love your friends, like our Bridgette. I know you love my boys. I know you love children.” A fond light appeared in his large blue eyes. “I want to give you many children.”
Burning with a blush, she tried to rise.
But he would not let her go.
“That…that is risqué,” she blurted, but a chuckle escaped.
He grinned. “You see? You want my babies. I know you do. I love you, Winn,” he whispered. “I love your humor and your wit. I love your joy of living. I love your—”
She pushed up and away from him. With a frantic look toward quiet little Tio, she put up a hand to ward off Bettington and whispered.
“I cannot marry you! My father will not approve. My reputation, after being here, will be questionable.” She noticed he froze for a moment, pondering an aspect of what she had said.
“Why?” He frowned, advancing on her. “Why would that be?”
“My father did not want me to come.”
“Ahh. That’s because he knows I want you.”
“What? No. No, he doesn’t.”
“But he does. When he discovered us kissing last summer in the garden, he took me aside later and warned me away from you.”
Her mouth fell open. She snapped it shut and said, “That’s why you left the Grange so quickly.”
“It was.”
“Ohhh. I thought it was because you were ashamed of kissing me!”
He stalked her. “My darling, how could you believe that?”
She was flat to the cold wall. Her body flooded with desire for him. When he leaned in to kiss her lips, she turned aside and he blessed her cheek instead.
“Please. Please stop. You do not understand my dilemma.”
He backed away enough to put both hands to the wall. But he was still dangerously close. “Tell me then. Let’s have done with this.”
“My mother was our disgrace. When I was two or three, she took up with some fellow, a duke’s younger son, and after a year, she ran off with him.
My father was laughed at, ridiculed. So was I.
But people forgot. Gradually my father became his good self again.
And I was no longer the girl that others laughed at.
But I remember what that was like. I never wish to live with such scorn again.
I will not live my life ashamed of myself. ”
“All the more reason to marry me, sweetheart.”
“I do not want to be ashamed of myself! To be your wife would mean I would be in society I do not understand! That I was not trained for!”
He blinked. Frowned. “I care not for society’s wants.
My God, Winn. My mother was frightened and disgraced by my father’s belligerent nature.
She left him. And it was noted in society.
My sister ran away from home when she was seventeen because my father was cruel.
She has never returned, nor written. We know not if she is dead or alive.
All that was noted in society. My wife was promiscuous and brought great shame upon herself.
It took me years to deal with my own emotions on the subject.
And now, now I know what is the most proper thing to do.
It is to rid the world of those who judge others by poor standards and who mistreat people because of their birth, their job or their gender.
I propose a bill to fully limit the merchant business of selling humans to others.
Powerful men oppose me. Do you think I could continue if I cared what others think of me and mine? ”
Winn filled with pride in him. He was bold to fashion such a measure.
“I did not know. But Rome was not built in a day. If we marry, you will feel the brunt of others’ disapproval.
And your activities in Parliament? They will wither.
They will die. I will not allow you to suffer that!
One success can lead to more. You must continue and not think of me. ”
“You refuse me?” His words were so broken that they shattered her heart.
She tossed her head against the wall. Tears burned her eyes. “Yes!”
“So you also refuse to love Roger, William and Tio?”
“Ohh, Bettington.” Battered by his logic, she wiped tears from her cheeks. “I love them. Do not use them against me.”
“Very well. But tell me one thing.”
She swallowed hard on her desire to wipe the despair from his beautiful eyes. “What is it?”
“Do you love me?”
She stared at him as tears destroyed her vision of him. “Because I love you, I will never do anything to ruin you.”
“But that is just the ticket, my love. You never could ruin me.”