Page 98 of In the Prince's Bed
She was quickly joined by a portly woman at least twice his age. “Oh my word, master…master, are you all right?”
Katherine knelt to cradle his head in her hands, cursing herself for being ten kinds of a fool. “Lord preserve me, he’s dead. I’ve killed him!”
“He’s not dead,” the older woman said in a soothing voice. She took his hand and pressed a finger to his wrist. “He’s got a good strong pulse.”
“But look, he’s bleeding!” Katherine’s heart twisted painfully to see the thin trickle of blood running down the side of his face. “He’s hurt badly.”
“I don’t think so, miss,” the other woman said. “He’s just knocked senseless is all. Give him a minute. His lordship has a hard head—he’ll be all right.”
But the older woman’s voice held an edge, and Katherine knew she wasn’t as sanguine as she tried to sound. “You must be his intended,” the woman added. “I’m Mrs. Brown, the housekeeper.”
“I’m Katherine Merivale,” she choked out.The ninny who nearly killed your master.Tears welled in her eyes. “This is a fine way to meet, isn’t it?” Brushing the hair from his forehead, she examined the gash while the housekeeper chafed his limp fingers.
Katherine glanced up, suddenly remembering Mama, who stood in the doorway, eyeing everything with suspicion. “That’s my mother over there.” She cast Mrs. Brown an imploring glance. “Can’t we make him more comfortable than here on the floor?”
“Best not to move him just yet,” the woman said. “He’s breathing right, and the color is coming back into his cheeks. I think he’ll come round.”
“This is all my fault. I should never have burst in like that.” Katherine glanced over at the sculpture of a woman on horseback draped only in her own hair. Lady Godiva…the naked woman.
Her tears burned her eyes. “What was he doing, anyway?”
Mrs. Brown shrugged. “He wanted to make the room nice for you, and there weren’t too many things left in the attic to do it with but this old sculpture of his father’s and a few paintings nobody would buy. I told him he shouldn’t try to put that up so high himself, but he wouldn’t go fetch the ladder.”
“One of the footmen should have helped him, or—”
“We have no footmen, miss.” The woman caught herself, then said, “That is, they’re…er…all out…um…in town.”
Mrs. Brown was as bad a liar as the butler. And suddenly it hit her. The lack of servants, faded carpet, dilapidated stairs, and overgrown gardens…As Mama said, it was more than just neglect. Katherine recognized a lack of money when she saw it. She’d certainly lived with it enough since Papa had died.
She stared at Mrs. Brown. “He has no money, does he? His lordship has no money.”
The old woman blanched, then shook her head.
That was why Alec stayed in a hotel. Because he needed money. And all his other secrets and evasions simply came down to that.
A weight lifted from her heart, leaving it to soar. Alec was poor! Never had she thought such a thing would make her so happy. His refusal to bring her here hadn’t stemmed from a desire to consort with a mistress, or have one last wild orgy, or hide a passel of illegitimate children from her, or any of the insane possibilities that had plagued her over the past few sleepless nights.
No, he’d hidden it from her because he was ashamed.
Yet despite his own poverty, he’d chosen to marry her even after she’d told him she had no money, either. He could have found an heiress, but instead he’d pursued her, not knowing that she expected a fortune. How much more proof did she need that he really cared for her?
And now she’d killed him. With a little sob, she pulled his head against her breast. He groaned.
“Alec!” she cried. “Speak to me, darling. Can you hear me?”
With his eyes still closed, he frowned against her breast and mumbled, “Katherine…must be…dreaming…”
“You’re not dreaming,” she whispered.
“Mmm,” he murmured as he turned his face into her breasts. “Nice. Soft.”
She choked back a hysterical laugh. “Wake up, you silly fool, or I’ll never forgive myself.” She cupped his face in her hands. “Oh, please, Alec, wake up.”
His eyes fluttered open, and he frowned at her. “Katherine? What are you doing here?” He shook his head as if to clear it, then glanced around. “And why in God’s name am I on the floor?”
With a little cry, she clutched his head to her chest. “You’re all right,” she whispered. “Thank goodness you’re all right.”
“My head hurts,” he muttered into her breasts.
