Page 21 of Persuasions of an Earl's Daughter

He couldn’t explain the feeling in his chest as she nestled into him, her legs slung sideways, her bare fingers gripping his shirt sleeve so tight he’d be concerned for the seams if the shirt hadn’t seen him through several years of mountain hiking. All he knew was that it made him clench his jaw so tight his teeth hurt.

He wanted to hunt down the men who had turned this sharp-tongued woman into a tiny bundle of trembling limbs and chattering teeth. He longed to set her down next to a fire and rub her down until the ashen cast vanished from her skin and she was rosy and pink and accusing him of horse theft.

He wanted her safe, he wanted her warm.

As he entered the village, silence hung in the air, stirred only by the clop of his own horse. The sky turned a moody blue and lanterns warmed tiny square windows tucked under thatched eaves. He resisted the temptation to hammer on the first door he came to and pushed on to the village stores. When he spied a man exiting the shop and pausing to turn a key in the lock, he swiftly cantered over. The man glanced up at the sound of August’s approach, his gaze darting over them.

“We’re closed.”

“A doctor,” August said, the tension in his throat clamping down on the demand. “Is there a doctor here?”

The man’s gaze narrowed and the furrow in his brow lessened when he looked upon Lilly. “No doctor here, but Mrs. Lambert might be able to help. She made a poultice for my Bessie last year. Drew out the fever straight away.”

“Where can I find her?”

“Just next to the church. The house with the blue door.” The man waved vaguely. “I don’t know how happy she’ll be at you disturbing her supper time. Don’t tell her I sent you.”

August thanked the man and wasted no time finding the house. The light flickering in the right-hand window eased the tightness in his shoulders. With any luck, this Mrs. Lambert wouldn’t send him away for interrupting supper.

He dismounted and eased Lilly down with him. She struggled to stand and muttered something about being colder than a polar bear in the arctic. He’d have laughed if she didn’t lean so heavily upon him. This seemed worse than a mere case of being chilled to the bone. The wound wasn’t that deep, however, she’d gone into the river straight after. The wound could well be infected by whatever was in the water.

He rapped hard on the door with the side of his fist and bundled Lilly tight into his side. “Mrs. Lambert will help us,” he assured her.

“Or she’ll tan our hides for interrupting supper,” Lilly quipped weakly.

The door inched open slowly and a cautious gaze peered up at them from behind wire-rimmed spectacles. She stood barely higher than his waist, with hair so dark and unusually short for a woman, it belied the creases around her eyes and made one struggle to figure out her age. She craned her neck up to study him. “It’s suppertime,” she snapped. “Everyone knows not to—”

August forced the door further open, and she gasped at seeing Lilly in his arms.

“Oh dear. Quickly. Come in.” Mrs. Lambert flapped a hand vigorously at them. “Come in, come in.”

He followed her into a low-beamed room that forced him to remain slightly stooped. Warmth radiated from the oven in the rear of the room and the scent of gravy and herbs made August’s stomach grumble. He forgot he hadn’t eaten since this morning.

Two chairs covered in lace doilies faced an empty fireplace and there was no sign of the presence of a Mr. Lambert. No caps hanging from the hat stand, no muddy boots. Everything from the excess of lace to the single plate laid out on the round table by the oven told him Mrs. Lambert was widowed or a spinster who had grown fed up of being asked why she was still a miss.

She pressed her glasses up her nose and reached up to put a hand to Lilly’s head.

“Terribly sorry to disturb you.” Lilly offered a weak smile. “I took a little dip.”

“She fell in the river,” August explained then realized it wasn’t much of an explanation at all. “But she has a cut on her side. I fear its...” He paused. He didn’t think much frightened Lilly. However, he still mouthedinfectedto the woman. “Someone said you could help.”

“I can help,” Mrs. Lambert said with such confidence, August allowed himself a long, deep breath.

“Thank you.”

“Bring her through to the bedroom. Let’s get her out of those clothes to begin with.”

He followed her into the next room, half carrying Lilly as she leaned heavily against him. She’d suffered a terrible experience and a long day. Perhaps it was more fatigue than anything. Perhaps there was no infection, and she wasn’t going to die and leave him with regrets that he did not quite understand yet. All he knew was he wasn’t ready for the silence that came with her ailing. There were more words for her to spit at him surely? More annoyed looks to send his way? Hell, he still had several more jackets for her to steal from him.

Mrs. Lambert tossed aside the thick knitted blanket and sheets and had August lie Lilly down.

“Remove her gown,” she ordered. “I’ll go boil some water.”

The tiny woman darted out of the room before he could protest. Lilly sank into the bed and closed her eyes and he eyed her, hands clasped at his sides.

There were many who would laugh at the idea of August Beresford balking at undressing a woman. After all, he apparently undressed women with such regularity he only needed to look at a woman and their clothes would fall off. Hell, he’d supposedly undressed women he’d never even been in the same room with. Quite the feat really.

But this was a real woman. And this was Lilly. This was different.

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