wondered whether, if she didn’t swallow fast enough for him, he’d hold her nose and dump the liquid down her throat. “Now bread,” Ian said. He broke off a tiny piece and held it to her lips.
Beth took it, unable to stop her smile. “This reminds me of when we were at Kilmorgan. You fed me breakfast.” Ian broke off more bread without answering, watching as she chewed and swallowed.
“I feel better,” she said when she’d eaten several pieces for him. “Though very tired.”
Ian felt her forehead and face. “The fever’s broken.”
“Thank heavens—“
She broke off with a squeak when his arms went hard around her. His shirt fell open, the warmth of his bare chest like a blanket.
He tried to slant a kiss across her dry lips, but she pulled back. “No, Ian, I must be disgusting. I need a bath.” Ian smoothed her hair from her forehead, his own eyes wet. “You rest first. Sleep.”
“You, too.”
“I was asleep,” he argued.
“I mean proper sleep, in a bed. Have a maid come and change the sheets, and you can sleep in here with me.” She brushed a tear from his cheek, treasuring the rare sign of his emotion. “I want you to.”
“I’ll change the sheets,” he said. “I’ve been doing it.” “The upstairs maids will not be happy if you take over their job. They’ll consider it not your place. Very snobbish are upstairs maids.”
He shook his head. “I never understand anything you say.”
“Then I must truly be better.”
Ian snatched folded linens from a cupboard. In silence he began stripping the sheets from one side of the bed. Beth tried to help, but gave up as soon as she realized she could not even pull up one corner.
Ian deftly unmade one part of the bed and tucked new sheets over it. Then he gently lifted her and laid her on the clean sheets before he repeated his actions with the other side.
“You are quite practiced at this,” she observed as he tucked quilts around her. “Perhaps you could open a school of instruction for upstairs maids.”
“Books.”
She waited, but he only tossed the wadded-up bedding in the hall and closed the door again.
“I beg your pardon?”
“Books on how to care for the sick.”
“You read them, did you?”
“I read everything.” He pulled off his boots and stretched out beside her, his warmth so welcome.
Beth’s thoughts went to when she’d wakened in the night, when Ian had looked straight down into her eyes. His golden gaze had been so anguished, so filled with pain. Now his gaze was evasive again, not letting her catch it. “It’s not fair that you look at me only when I’m extremely ill,” Beth said. “Now that I am fully awake and feeling better, you turn away.”
“Because when I look at you, I forget everything. I lose all track of what I’m saying or doing. I can see only your eyes.” He laid his head on her pillow and rested his hand on her chest. “You have such beautiful eyes.” Her heart beat faster. “And then you flatter me so that I’ll feel awful that I chided you.”
“I’ve never flattered you.”
Beth traced his cheek. “You do know that you are the finest man in the world, don’t you?”
He didn’t answer. His breath was hot on her skin. She was tired, but not so tired that she couldn’t feel an agreeable tightening in the space between her legs.
More memories of the church came back to her, the awful pain and Mrs. Palmer’s desperation, overlaid with the scents of her old life. “She’s dead, isn’t she? Mrs. Palmer, I mean.”
“Yes.”
“She loved him so much, poor woman.”
“She was a murderess and nearly killed you.” “Well, I’m not exactly happy about that. She didn’t kill Sally, you know. Lily did.”
Ian’s gaze flickered. “Don’t talk. You’re too weak.” “I’m right, Ian Mackenzie. Sally threw Lily over and was going to keep all the blackmail money for herself. Lily must have been furious. You said she was hanging about outside the bedroom. While you were off in the parlor, and after Hart left the room, she nipped in, quarreled with Sally, and stabbed her. No wonder Lily agreed to go to that house in Covent Garden and not come out.”
Ian leaned over her. “Right now, I don’t give a damn who killed Sally.”
Beth looked hurt. “But I solved the mystery. Tell Inspector Fellows.”
“Inspector Fellows can rot in hell.”
“Ian.”
“He thinks he’s a bloody good detective. He can find out for himself. You rest.”
“But I feel better.”
Ian glared at her, his eyes still not meeting hers. “I don’t care.”
Beth obediently settled back into the pillows, but she couldn’t resist tracing his cheek. His jaw was dark and sandpaper rough, showing he hadn’t shaved in a while. “How did you find me at the church?” Beth asked. “How did you know?”
“Fellows found someone who heard Mrs. Palmer tell a cabbie to take them to Bethnal Green. Hart knew Mrs. Palmer’s sister lived there. When you weren’t at her house, I decided you’d try to get away from Mrs. Palmer and back to the church that had been your husband’s.” He looked away. “I knew you’d been happy there.”
“How did you even know where it was?”
“I’ve explored all parts of London. I remembered.” Beth leaned into his chest, loving the clean scent of his lawn shirt. “Bless you and your memory, Ian. I’ll never stand amazed at it again.”
“Does it amaze you?”
“Yes, but I’ve been viewing it rather like a circus trick. Dear heavens, like you’re a trained monkey.”
“Monkey. . .”
“Never mind. Thank you for finding me, Ian Mackenzie. Thank you for not killing Sally Tate. Thank you for being so damned noble and conscientious.”
“I worried sometimes.” Ian rubbed his forehead in the gesture that indicated one of his troubling headaches. “Sometimes I convinced myself that it wasn’t Hart; it was me in one of my rages, blocked out so I don’t remember.” Beth closed her hand over his. “But you didn’t. Both killers are dead, and it’s over.”
“You saw me try to choke the life out of Fellows. It took Curry and Mac to pull me off him.”
“You must admit Inspector Fellows can be provoking,” Beth said, trying to make her tone light.
“In the asylum I fought my handlers at first. I hurt more than one of them. They had to strap me down to give me my treatments “ “Handlers?” Beth started to sit up, but the pain pulled her back down. “You weren’t an animal.”
“Wasn’t I?”
“No one should be tied down and beaten and given electric shocks.”
“The headaches would come, and I’d lash out at them.” His gaze slid away. “I can’t always stop the rages. What if I hurt you?”
Beth’s heart squeezed at the fear in his eyes. “You’re not your father.”
“Aren’t I? He locked me away because I’d witnessed him killing my mother, but that wasn’t the only reason. I couldn’t convince a commission I was sane—I grew so angry I could only recite one line of poetry over and over, trying to contain myself.” He caught one of her hands, brought it to his mouth.
“Beth, what if I rage at you? What if I hurt you? What if I open my eyes and your body is under my hands —“
He broke off, his eyes closing tight, tight.
“No, Ian, don’t leave me.”
“I was so angry at Sally. And I am so strong.” “Which is why you left the room. You went out to calm yourself, and it worked.” She pressed a kiss to his closed fist. “I very much need to speak to Inspector Fellows,” she said. She found herself pinned against the mattress. Ian’s eyes were open again, his fear gone. But for all the strength in his hands on her wrists, he made sure his weight was far from her hurt side.
“No more conversations with Inspector Fellows. He is to leave you be.”
“But—“
