Page 20 of Lord Trafford's Folly
Julius was hot.So hot, he was burning. He could feel the flames licking at his heels, and the roar of the fire blasting him in the face. If it did not relent, he would be burnt to a crisp—trapped in hell, he must be.
It was payment for allowing his friends to suffer.
His new chum, Abbott, being forced into a marriage born of scandal while Julius stood by, helpless to prevent it.
The little baroness with the bruises adorning her slim throat from her attack a few weeks earlier.
The day Brendan was to be arrested for murder, and Julius could not intercede.
Julius’s own cowardice for not following his mother to Paris just because he could not face the ordeal of journeying back to the Continent. Even now, he could feel the deck of the ship rolling beneath his feet to make him bilious. Which was odd because he would not have expected that the seventh circle of hell could be at once fiery and flooded with treacherous seawater.
A soft voice interrupted the howling heat and the terrifying undulation of waves beneath, a chilled cloth dampening his brow. The heat subsided, and Julius drifted into the sweet embrace of oblivion.
Audrey swabbedher restless patient down as he mumbled and moved about. Julius was too hot for her liking, so she rinsed the warmed-up cloth, and once it cooled down, she applied it again. She swabbed away the sweat upon his pallid face, ran it down his lean, muscled arms, which she lifted in turn to run down his sides and torso.
The sheets below him were soaked through with his perspiration. Nibbling on her lip, Audrey thought about what to do, which was when Patrick arrived with a fresh stack of cloths and a bowl of water.
“Should we change his sheets?”
“Aye. I will fetch some and return shortly.” The old man placed the tray down on the table. He removed her items from the one she had been using, picked it up, and took it from the room.
Audrey returned to the task of swabbing Julius. She might as well remove as much sweat from his body as possible before they moved him. Then she raised his head to feed him more of the medicinal brew.
“Swallow, Julius.”
Even in his delirious state, he must have heard her. Opening his mouth, he allowed her to pour the contents in and he swallowed weakly. She let him back down and, feeling around the wound with her fingertips, she confirmed the bandage was damp with his sweat.
Stepping back, Audrey decided she would apply fresh honey and a dry bandage with Patrick’s help before they shifted Julius. Glancing at the clock on the shelf across the room, she noted it was yet a long night ahead of them. Outside, the rain had stopped, but it was still as gloomy as a funeral.
Rubbing her tired eyes, Audrey plopped back in the velvet wingback chair beside the bed, stealing a few minutes to herself while awaiting Patrick’s return and before the work began anew. Perhaps she should request a meal for herself. Until that moment, she had not thought about food, but she would need to keep her strength up to take care of Julius through the night.
CHAPTER 6
“Love is three quarters curiosity.”
Giacomo Casanova
AUGUST 28, 1821
With the weight of a thousand cannonballs pressing his lids shut, Julius opened his eyes. The windows were open as well as the chamber door, creating a brisk draught through the room. He shivered and, peering down, realized he was bared to the elements, his skin puckered with gooseflesh.
Across from him, on the dressing table, stood a tea tray piled with cups and used cloths, and next to his bed was an armchair in which an exhausted maiden slept. Her head was atan awkward angle, leaning against the wing of the chair, and her mouth hung open. She exhaled a snorting bleat.
Despite her disheveled blonde hair and the lamentable condition of his richly hued banyan enveloping her body, Audrey was beautiful in the morning light.
His future bride.
His wound ached in a dull rebuke and Julius sighed. He was eminently relieved to awaken, having survived the worst night of his life, but now that his fever had broken, it was time to address the muddle he had created with his ill-conceived attempt at blackmail.
Like his friends before him, Julius had entrapped himself in a scandal, and the honorable path forward was to marry the young woman who had saved his life not once, but twice. It was the least he could do.
I am forced to do the right thing. I hate doing the right thing!
Growling his disdain of all things matrimonial, he turned his head back to watch the sunrise and mourn the passing of his freedom. He supposed Audrey was a good sort. If he was required to place his head in the parson’s noose, at least it was with her and not some frightful flibbertigibbet of thebeau monde.
“You are awake!”
Audrey’s tone was exuberant, shattering the silence of the morning with a finality.
