companion’s fretting had begun to seem tedious after two days’ travelling. She felt relieved that for a short time she need not consider anyone but her patient and herself.
Going upstairs to her own chamber, she tidied her hair and smoothed the skirts of her serviceable gown. She had chosen one of her oldest, which was normally kept for working in her stillroom. She preferred not to dress too richly while staying at the inn, for she had now realised that she and Mr Hunter were not the only guests. She had seen another gentleman as she came downstairs that morning. By his dress he was a countryman, perhaps a merchant or a farmer of ample means, for though well turned out he did not aspire to fashion. Arabella was glad that she had allowed her hosts to believe Charles was her husband. She would not care to be thought fast in any way, which she might have had they known that she was regularly visiting the bedchamber of a stranger.
Entering Charles’s room a little later, she saw that Iris was bending over him, trying to give him a little water from a pewter cup, and he seemed to be fighting her. When she went closer, Arabella realised that he was once again in the grip of a fever.
‘What are you giving him?’ she asked because she could see now that the cup contained more than water.
‘The doctor has been again and he left a powder to be mixed with water and administered every few hours. As you can see, my lady, the gentleman is much worse this morning than he was last night.’
‘Yes, he is,’ Arabella said and laid a hand on his forehead. ‘He is burning up, Iris. We must do something to help him. I think we should bathe him. Strip back the bedcovers while I bring fresh water.’
She went over to the washstand and poured water from the jug into a bowl, bringing it back to the bedside as Iris folded back the heavy cover. Charles was naked and the girl blushed—she had only ever seen one naked man before and that was her young brother. She placed a towel over his private parts, turning to wring out her cloth and recover her composure. Arabella came to join her, a little amused that the girl had thought fit to protect his modesty. She had felt no shame in looking at his body, finding it beautiful. He had strong firm legs, and was well formed without the slightest hint of anything to spoil the perfection.
‘We shall do it together, Iris. You bathe that arm and I shall do this one. That way we can hold him more easily if he fights us.’
‘He seems quieter now,’ Iris pointed out. ‘I think it was the sound of your voice. He kept trying to push me away, but he settled when you touched him.’
‘Yes, he has,’ Arabella agreed. ‘I think he mistook me for someone he cares for last night. He woke for a moment, though I do not think he knew what he said, because in seconds he had gone back into his unconscious state. The fever had not gripped him so much then, but we shall do what we can ourselves to care for him; then, if he is no better in an hour or so, I shall send for the doctor again.’
They carefully bathed most of his body in the cool water, turning him one way and then the other. Arabella stroked the red marks on his thigh where he had been wounded previously, thinking that the flesh still looked sore. She had some healing creams in her baggage, and instructed Iris to fetch the pots for her once they had dried his skin. While the girl was gone, Arabella stroked his forehead, speaking him to him tenderly. It was true that the sound of her voice did soothe him. He was not quite as hot now, and, when Iris returned, she smoothed a little cream into his thigh, massaging it for some minutes before drawing the covers over him again. Then she applied the ointment to the wound at the side of his head. He had received a nasty cut, but it was not deep and she thought it would soon heal.
‘There, I think he will do for the time being,’ she said. ‘I shall go and have my breakfast now, and you can have yours in half an hour. I shall order it made ready for you, Iris.’
Glancing at the man in the bed once more before she left, Arabella was aware of a warm glow inside her. He was resting now. Their nursing had certainly helped him. It might be only a temporary respite, but it could be a turning point. She prayed that it might be so.
When Iris came down to partake of her meal, Arabella went back to the sick room. She sat by the bedside for more than an hour and then went to fetch a book from her own room. Charles Hunter was sleeping peacefully and she would be better with something to do for a while.
After another hour, Iris came to take her place as they had agreed. Arabella went out for a walk, feeling the need for a little air. The inn was quite warm and rather stuffy as it had only small windows. She felt pleased with their patient’s progress, for he seemed to be throwing the fever off. However, when she returned, Iris told her that he had begun to sweat heavily and throw the bedcovers off once more.
Arabella resorted to the same remedy as before, and once again he quietened under her hand. She was a little concerned and sent Iris to ask the landlord to send for the doctor again.
When he visited later that morning, the doctor declared himself satisfied with the patient’s progress.
‘You must expect a little fever,’ he said. ‘I warned you that he might be violent, for brain fever can be dangerous, though you seem to be nursing him very well, Lady Arabella. I had expected your husband to be in a worse case than this. Continue to give him the powders I left you and I am sure all will be well.’
Arabella thanked him, forbearing to tell him that her patient had not taken much of the doctor’s remedy. She walked downstairs with him to the parlour where she took her midday meal alone. There was no sign of the country gentleman she had seen earlier and she was pleased that the inn seemed not to get too many visitors. It was as she was preparing to go back upstairs once more that Mrs Blackstone came up to her with a smile.
‘Your husband is much better, Lady Arabella. He woke a few moments ago when I went in with some more water. He asked me where he was and I told him that he was staying at the Fox and Hounds in Thornborough, and that his wife was caring for him. He seemed a little mazed, my lady, but I am sure that is only to be expected in the circumstances. The poor man said he had no wife, but he will remember when he sees you.’
‘Yes, of course,’ Arabella said and went hastily up the stairs. It was little wonder if Charles Hunter felt confused by being told his wife was caring for him! She entered the bedchamber and found Iris wrestling with him as she tried to keep him from leaving his bed.
‘You must not, sir,’ Arabella said and crossed to the bedside. ‘You have been ill and I think you should stay in bed for a little longer.’
‘And who the hell are you?’ he demanded, looking angry. ‘Are you the designing wench who has been masquerading as my wife? I have no wife and if you hope to force me into proposing because you have compromised yourself, let me tell you that you are much mistaken. I have no intention of taking a wife—and certainly not a female I have never met before in my life!’
‘Thank you, Iris, you may go,’ Arabella said. She fixed a cool stare on Charles, lifting her head proudly. Now she became the lady of the manor, wealth and power at her back. ‘You are the one who is mistaken, sir. I found you lying on the road and in a parlous state. Had I not taken you up in my carriage, you might have died. Indeed, the rogue who attacked you might have returned to finish his work.’
‘Was I attacked?’ Charles stared at her, his eyes narrowing. Something about her voice was very attractive. He found it soothing, despite his shock at the discovery that he was supposed to have a wife. ‘Who are you, ma’am—and why does the innkeeper’s wife imagine I am your
