‘I meant to come, but I slept too soundly. Give me the cloth. I can do that and you should rest.’
‘Yes, I need an hour or two,’ Henderson agreed. ‘The doctor came and gave me some medicine for the fever. I’ve given him one dose and he shouldn’t have more for two hours. If I’m back, I’ll give it to him, but the measure is one spoonful, no more.’
‘Yes, I see,’ Georgie said and glanced at the dressing chest where the dark brown bottle and a spoon had been placed. She took note of the time by the clock on a tall chest. ‘He has the next dose at nine forty-five.’
‘Yes, good.’ Henderson looked approving. ‘I shall leave it to you, then—and thank you.’
‘He helped me. It is only fair I should help him.’
Henderson studied her in silence for a moment, but said nothing more, just turned and left her to get on with the job of bathing the patient’s brow.
‘Justin…’ Georgie turned her head as she heard the feverish mumbling. ‘Forgive me…I should have been there…don’t die…I’m sorry…it wasn’t your fault…it wasn’t your fault…’
Georgie wrung out her cloth in cool water and stroked it over his heated forehead. His dark hair was damp with sweat, hanging in rat-tails about his face. He wore his hair longer than most men did these days and she thought it gave him the look of a rebel, a man who did not conform to the fashion of the day.
‘Justin…no…’ He gave a tortured cry and sat up in bed staring wildly in front of him. ‘You can’t die… forgive me…forgive me…’
‘He forgives you,’ Georgie said as he fell back against the pillows with a sigh. She wasn’t sure if he could hear her in his fever, but she stroked her fingers down his cheek, soothing him. Touching him made her feel a little strange, because she felt he needed her and she longed to help him. He was in such torment and his pain tugged at her heartstrings, bringing tears to her eyes. ‘He knows you wanted to save him…it isn’t your fault if he dies…’
His hand shot out, gripping her wrist, his eyes staring at her, but seeing something beyond her. ‘I knew,’ he muttered. ‘I knew what they did to him! I should have stopped them. It wasn’t his fault…he was gentle…so gentle…they killed him…’
‘It’s all right,’ Georgie told him, her fingers caressing his cheek once more. ‘Rest now. Justin is safe…’
‘No, he died…’ Tears were trickling down his cheeks now. ‘He died because I wasn’t there to help…’
‘But you wanted to,’ Georgie comforted, her heart wrenched by his obvious distress. ‘You would have if you could…’
‘Failed him…’ His eyes had closed now, but she thought he seemed a little easier. She stroked his hair and his face, using the cool cloth to wipe away the sweat from his forehead and the tears from his cheeks. His outburst had been a revelation, for who would have guessed that he could be so moved? He seemed such a stern man, giving no sign of any deep emotions, but clearly he felt them. He had inadvertently revealed another side of his character, one that she might not have known was there if he hadn’t been struck down like this, and it had reached out to something inside her, arousing tender feelings she had not known she had. Georgie wondered who Justin was and what had happened to him—and why did Captain Hernshaw feel so very responsible?
It wasn’t her business, she decided as she sat back in the chair Henderson had drawn close to the bed. At least he was resting for the moment. He was still hot, but the mutterings had stopped and he appeared to be more comfortable.
She sat watching him, studying the curves and angles of his features. He wasn’t a handsome man by the standards of the day. His features were much too harsh, his nose straight and patrician. His mouth looked softer when he was sleeping, not hard or angry as it did when he was annoyed, and his lashes were thick and dark. She could not see his eyes at that moment, but she knew they were grey—eyes that could be cold or sparkle with amusement. He intrigued her. What kind of a man would bring a thief he had met on the streets to his home? What kind of man was tortured by something in his past? Had he done something dreadful? Was that why he begged forgiveness in his fever?
She would probably never know, Georgie realised. She had hoped to persuade him to help her reach her great-aunt’s, but he was unlikely to be able to leave his bed for some weeks. Could she stay here all that time—ought she even if he allowed it?
She was torn by uncertainty as she sat watching him. One part of her told her that she should leave as soon as she could, because it would be foolish to become more involved with him. Perhaps one of his servants would lend her enough money to take the coach to Yorkshire…and yet she could not desert this man while he lay ill. Against her will, she felt drawn to him in a way she could not explain. Besides, Henderson would need help until his master was over the worst. And, Georgie admitted, she wanted to help take care of him, to see him strong and well again, to touch him and… She shut out the foolish thoughts. She wouldn’t run away while he needed her, but she wouldn’t allow herself to have foolish thoughts either!
Henderson returned exactly two hours after he had left. Georgie wondered if he had slept at all, but when she asked if he had, he merely said he was rested.
‘I got used to not having much sleep when we were fighting on the Peninsula,’ he told her. ‘I don’t need a lot. Mrs Jensen said you were to go down when you are ready, Georgie. She will give you breakfast in the small parlour.’
‘Oh…thank you,’ Georgie said, becoming aware that she was beginning to feel hungry. ‘Yes, I shall. Do you want me to help with his medicine first?’
‘I can manage him,’ Henderson said. ‘He is easy enough when he’s like this; it’s when he begins to feel more like himself that he gets restless. He doesn’t make a good patient.’
‘You have nursed him before?’
‘He wouldn’t thank me for telling you, but, yes, he has been wounded badly a couple of times.’
‘He was lucky to have you.’
‘I’m the lucky one,’ Henderson said. ‘When I was caught by a blast from a cannon, it cut my face to ribbons, and I had a stomach wound that should have been fatal. They thought I was finished, but he wouldn’t leave me. He carried me back to base over his horse and he forced the surgeon to sew me back together, and then he sat with me until he knew I would live. He paid for someone to nurse me until I was on my feet again. A good many would have left me to die—and when they told me I was no more good for the army, he told me I had a place with him for life.’
Georgie looked at him intently. ‘You love him, don’t you?’
‘I’m not sure whether it’s brotherly love or gratitude,’ Henderson said with a grimace, ‘but I know I would die in his place if it came to it.’
‘I call that love,’ Georgie said and smiled. ‘I’ll come back later. We’ll look after him together.’
‘Yes, miss, if that’s what you want.’
‘It is,’ she said, ‘and you can call me Georgie.’
Henderson shot her a curious look, but didn’t answer. She was discovering that he was a man who spoke only when he thought it necessary, and she felt pleased that he had told her
