‘Obviously I am very relieved about that,’ he said and might have said more, but sensed Mrs Turner was nearby even before she came into the room so quietly he wondered how he had been so certain. This odd awareness of her kept his senses constantly on the alert. His heart began to race when she was within a hundred yards and he had strained his ears for every murmured word she had said to Yelverton under his window this morning, as if he could store them up like treasure against the time he must leave here and go on his lonely way.
Maybe that scheme he had been mulling over would mean not having to leave her behind when he went. It might be a bittersweet torture to be close to a woman so beguilingly unaware of her own attractions and not be able to do anything about it, but something told him he would regret it if he put his own comfort first and ignored her sad dilemma. He still hoped she would not gauge his heartbeat now because she would have the sawbones out here as fast as his horse would go.
‘Ah, there you are, Juno,’ she said and perhaps it was as well. He was more than delighted to be on good terms with his niece again, but he still felt as if a half-dozen horses had galloped over him yesterday. Strong emotions were exhausting, he decided. No wonder he had avoided them since his brother died.
‘I meant to sit quietly by Uncle Alaric’s bed until he woke up, but he was awake when I got here,’ Juno said sheepishly as she faced Marianne’s sceptical gaze.
‘She has done me good, Mrs Turner,’ Alaric defended her and it was true, or it would be tomorrow morning when he woke up feeling better and fairly certain his niece was not going to flee as soon as he was well enough to get up.
‘I am sure your company has done your uncle more good than any tonic I have to hand, Juno, but my brother is about to come up here to help your uncle wash and shave. I doubt His Lordship will want either of us nearby while he curses his injuries and very likely my brother up hill and down dale.’
‘Almost certainly him as well,’ Alaric muttered grumpily, but his dislike of the man was only show by now. He had already forgiven the man for stealing his would-be fiancée. One day he might thank him for loving a young woman he admired for her learning and grace and courage, but did not love. If not for Yelverton, he would have to consider himself bound by his carefully considered offer for the admirable Miss Grantham. Something told him neither of them would have been very happy shackled together for life and they had both had a lucky escape.
Chapter Eight
After all that cursing and discomfort, her patient was so pale and exhausted Marianne insisted on leaving him to sleep despite his insistence he was not tired and had already slept for hours. He did so for several more, so at least that was half a day over without him trying to get out of bed. She had sensed his restless energy on the other side of the door before she even set eyes on him yesterday, so she knew it would only get more difficult to keep him quiet when he felt better. Watching him sleep in the shadowed room now, she was surprised to discover that she hated seeing him brought low like this. It was like a bird of prey being chained to a post or hooded when to her mind they should always fly free.
Fanciful nonsense, she told herself as she turned to go so he could sleep boredom away a little longer.
Hopefully his body had more sense than the rest of him and it would force him to rest and heal before he made any more ridiculous demands of it. Yet he had proved that he did not listen when he had pushed himself to exhaustion on his way here. It was such a fine and powerful male body as well and it seemed a crying shame to abuse it with his usual lordly bullheadedness.
‘Mrs Turner?’ he murmured even as she turned to leave.
‘I am sorry I woke you.’
‘Everybody seems to be sorry for me today, one way or the other,’ he said and was that really a self-deprecating smile or just a trick of the shadows in a darkened room? If it was, then how dare he have a sense of humour to make him seem more human than he was yesterday? ‘Even your brother apologised for hurting me just now, so he thinks I am as fragile as glass and was trying to be kinder than I probably deserve.’
‘Do you still have the headache, my lord?’
‘Not unless I roll about on the lump on the back of my head.’
‘Then do you think you could endure a little light if I open the shutters slightly?’ she asked to try and gauge how sensitive to light he was and if she ought to worry about him more than she already was. If there was a lingering chance of concussion it should have shown by now, but she was determined to keep him
