“Now please move the lamp back next to the bed so I am not in shadows.”
A big sigh, but he did so.
She took his hand in hers. The knuckles looked red. “Where were you?”
“Out and about.”
She ran her thumb over those knuckles. “Did you kill him?”
“No.” He gave her hand a squeeze. “I brought Jeremy. His mission was to make sure I didn’t, much as I wanted to. There were some fisticuffs, however, in order to subdue him.”
She pictured him walking into that fetid chamber, hard and angry, with Jeremy at his side. Mr. Marin must have panicked at the sight of two men looking for vengeance. “What did you do with him?”
“I gave him a choice. He could enter one carriage that was waiting, that would take him to the establishment in the country where his cousin hoped he could be treated. Or he would enter another one, and be taken to the magistrate to answer for attempting to kill you.”
“I trust he chose to go to the country.”
“As I said, there were fisticuffs. I’m sure when it was over, he agreed with me that would be the better decision.”
She looked him over again. “You had better not let Brigsby see you, if he is still here. He will insist on bathing and grooming you within an inch of your life if he has the chance.”
“That is why I came right here. That and so I could make sure you were not being disobedient. Which you were.”
“Was it your intention to stand watch all night to make sure I did not move from here?”
“My intention was to stay here all night and lay cool compresses on your head. I did not expect to find you so recovered.”
She looked at her body making hills in the bedclothes. “You don’t have to sit in that chair. I have been ordered to stay in bed. I have not been ordered to stay in bed alone.”
He laughed a little. “Unfortunately, I was ordered not to impose on you. It was the last thing the physician said before going out the door.”
“Sleeping beside me is not imposing. I am sure I will recover all the faster if you hold me.” She moved over in the bed. “It isn’t big, but you should fit.”
“I’m sure I will.” He stood and shed his frockcoat and waistcoat. He untied and pulled off his cravat. After removing his boots and turning out the lamp, he lay down next to her.
“You could get under the sheet with me.”
“Beth is sure to arrive at dawn to take my place by your side. Better not to.” He did turn and slide his arm under, so he could embrace her. That felt unbearably good, as if his hold made the whole day’s ugliness go away.
“I realized something today,” she said. “When it was happening, I remembered something I had forgotten. It was just there in my head.”
He yawned, and turned on his stomach. “What was that?”
“That day when I was given that money, he said something to me. The boy who brought it. I forgot it almost at once. But when he handed that box over, he said something. ‘I was told to tell you, next time, fight back.’ I heard that in my head today. And I wonder—”
“Wonder what?”
“I wonder if whoever sent that money knew what was happening in our house.”
“I think he did know. I even think I know how. He had to know.”
“Because otherwise he would not have given me that money?”
“Because when he died he left you enough to take care of yourself.”
She stared at the ceiling. The notion did not shock her as much as it should. “It was the duke, you think.”
“I am almost sure of it. It is the only possible connection between the two of you that I have found.”
“Why didn’t you tell me this?”
“I was going to, but you got yourself hit on the head and it became something for another day.” He yawned again. “It still is. Now go to sleep.”
She pretended to, but she didn’t. He soon slumbered beside her, however. She listened to his breaths, and hugged the arm draped over her, and dwelled on the poignant emotions his presence raised in her whenever he showed how he cared for her.
Chapter Twenty-Two
“I demand that I be allowed to leave this chamber.”
Minerva spoke with determination. Her eyes blazed. Beth turned to Chase, holding out her hands like a woman beset by big troubles. “Called for you to talk some sense into her.”
Chase faced Minerva across the chamber, the bed that they had shared for two nights now neatly and crisply made. She wore the undressing gown he had bought her, and had attempted to dress her own hair. One of her ensembles lay on the chair. He doubted Beth had put it there.
She looked much herself. Other than the bruise surrounding the poultice high on her forehead, nothing appeared amiss. Her whole manner spoke of her irritation at her confinement. At most they could hold her here one more day. After that, she might well tie the sheets together to make her escape out the window.
“You agreed that after three days if I felt recovered I could stop being an invalid,” she said.
“I lied, to ensure you rested at least three days. However, if you promise to do it my way, perhaps you can leave this chamber for a short while.”
Beth opened her mouth to object, but shut it just as quickly. Minerva eyed him as if to see if he was trying to trick her.
“What is your way?”
“You will only go down the stairs with me. You can take some air in the garden if you dress warmly. And you can go for a carriage ride with me this afternoon, and a short walk, if you swear you will admit when you get tired or if at any time you are in distress of the slightest amount.”
“Your way doesn’t sound like much fun.”
“The alternative is we lock you in.”
“You wouldn’t dare.”
He said nothing to that. She assessed his mood with a long look. “Fine, but it is very unfair. You are allowed to get hit on the head and still go about your business, but if I get hit on the head I become an invalid. Beth, help me to dress. I intend to eat breakfast down below.”
He stepped out while they took care of that, then escorted Minerva down the stairs, watching for any indications that her balance did not hold. In the little morning room, food awaited. She helped herself to a full plate, then sat to enjoy her freedom.
He joined her. As soon as he sat, Brigsby arrived and set down a high stack of mail and paper. Chase had already checked two letters when he realized what had just occurred. “How did you get these?”
“I sent the young man for them.”
“Jeremy is not your lackey, Brigsby.”
“He didn’t mind going. I said he could take your carriage and gave him permission to allow the young lady to ride in it too.”
“You gave your permission?”
“You were otherwise occupied, sir. I thought it unwise to disturb you.” A little cough punctuated his pride in his discretion.
“Young lady?” Minerva asked.
“Miss Turner. She visits on occasion. I saw them chatting in the garden yesterday. I thought she would like a ride in the carriage.” He went to get the coffee and poured into both of their cups. “You needed a new frockcoat, after the disaster you made of the one we had here. I asked the young man to fetch your blue one, and to see about the mail while he was there. The newspaper I went out and procured on my own.”