The woman dropped a curtsey. “’Tis ‘appy I am ter know yer ‘ere with ‘im, Ma’am. An’ no doubt ‘e’s quality born an’ bred. ‘E may ‘ave told us ‘e was Mr Hartsmere, but yer ain’t foolin’ Peg ‘ere.”
Ivy laughed. “You must be Jane’s mama. You have her eyes.”
“That I am, Ma’am. Now then. What can I do fer yer?”
“Well I’ll be staying with my husband, of course, but if you have a room for Mrs Ashrayn, that would be splendid.”
Peg pulled a large book out from under the counter, opened it and nodded. “One ‘cross the corridor from yer. Just opened up, so it’s yers fer as long as yer need it.” She reached under the desk once more and produced a key. “‘Ere yer are. Yer man’s got ‘is key. Best get it from ‘im if’n yer plannin’ on leavin’ ‘im alone.”
“I will,” she answered, then paused. “I wonder, Peg, can you tell me when my husband arrived? His plans were not set in stone when he left to come north to…er…visit friends.”
“Well now,” Peg consulted her book again. “He came to us almost a se’nnight ago. In and out, ‘e was, an’ I s’pose ‘e was visiting them friends. But I gotta say, Missus,” she leaned over the counter. “Some of ‘em looked a bit skivy ter me.”
“Skivy?”
“Yer know, sort o’ not as straight up as yer man.”
“Ah. Skivy.” Ivy nodded. “So perhaps they were from a different sort of life than my husband.”
Peg chortled. “That’s one way o’ sayin’ it.”
“So he’s been here almost a week,” said Ivy, almost to herself. “When did he show signs of being unwell?”
“Hmm.” The older woman pursed her lips. “I’d say night a’fore last. Didn’ eat much o’ ‘is dinner. An’ up til then ‘e cleaned them plates. Yestermorn ‘e nivver showed fer breakfast an’ that’s when I goes up and sees ‘im sick.” She cleared her throat. “‘E ‘ad me take a note an’ send it. Yer got it?”
“I did,” replied Ivy. “That’s what brought us here. I cannot tell you how grateful I am, Peg.”
“Well, see, ‘e promised me a guinea if I sent it, like…”
“And that will be yours, Peg. You have my word on it. His shot, our shot, and whatever extra he’s promised will be yours.” She leaned over the counter and offered her hand.
“Well if’n that don’t beat all,” blinked Peg. “An’ there’s a young lad talkin’ bout four fine ‘orses, an’ a carriage wi’ a fancy crest…” She grinned.
Ivy put her finger to her lips. “Mr Hartsmere and his wife are very grateful for your care, Peg. Rest assured you will be well taken care of.”
“I trust yer, Missus.” A clinking sound distracted them both. “Ah, ‘ere’s me lass wi’ yer tea.”
“Let me take it up, Jane. I’m going back to see how he is and give Mrs Ashrayn the key.” She winked at Peg. “Thank you again.”
Taking the tea tray, Ivy mounted the stairs and carefully managed her way into the room. The sun was up now, and she could get a good look at not only the layout but also her husband.
“He’s sleeping, and I think he’s quieter,” said Elvina.
“He does look a little easier,” approved Ivy. “But I’ll be happy when his fever breaks.” She turned to the table. “Let’s have some tea. Oh…” she retrieved the key from her pocket. “Your room. Right across the corridor.”
“Perfect,” smiled Elvina. “I wouldn’t be averse to an hour or so of sleep, I don’t mind telling you.”
Tea was poured and sipped with enjoyment by both ladies.
“I can’t help but wonder,” puzzled Ivy with a frown. “What has brought on this fever? Did he contract some ailment? He’s been here a week, according to the books, but it wasn’t until two evenings ago that he first showed signs of being ill.”
Elvina put down her cup. “An excellent question.” She looked across the room at the Duke. “We should take advantage of his unconscious state and check him for anything that might have injured him.”
Ivy blinked. “Such as?”
“Bites perhaps. Insect bites can set up a nasty infection, as can untreated scrapes, or perhaps dog bites…”
“So it could be anything.” Ivy bit her lip. “All right. Let’s take a look.”
Together, the two women approached the bed, and Ivy gently folded back the covers, revealing the Duke’s bare chest and the fact that he wore cotton drawers.
“I don’t see anything,” said Elvina, almost to herself.
“Hmm.” Ivy couldn’t, either. His chest looked as firm and warm as it always had. Not that she’d had much chance to explore it thoroughly, but there didn’t seem to be anything untoward.
“Wait…” Elvina hissed in a breath. “Here. Help me.” She was lifting the shoulder nearest to her, and half rolling Colly onto his other side.
“Good God,” said Ivy, her heart thudding as he moaned a little.
“Yes,” answered Elvina, touching the smear of blood they’d discovered on the sheet beneath him. “It looks to me like…”
“He’s been stabbed.”
Chapter Twenty
The world was blurred, fuzzy, unreal in some strange fashion, floating before his eyes yet not making any sense at all.
Lowering his lids against the unsettling images, the Duke of Maidenbrooke tried to focus his mind instead of his vision.
There. A voice. It was Ivy, he knew. His wife. So he must be home in Hartsmere House. But…no, this bed didn’t feel like his bed at all. He moved—and a shot of pain brought a groan to his lips.
“Easy, Colly. Just rest. Stay still.”
Her fragrance drifted around his nose, a light fresh scent that was so very much a part of her. He breathed her in, then
