so long ago.
But the duke and Penny had not been as she’d expected and had treated her as a long-lost sister. Now, the man in front of her was practically undone over the death of a beast. She wanted to take back the words and assure him that, somewhere, the horse was alive and well. Fine blood stock, like Jupiter probably was, would not have sold for hide and hoof to pay a stable bill.
Instead, she remained silent and let him lean upon her, as he struggled to regain his composure. ‘Do you wish me to call for Stewart?’ she said softly.
He shook his head, once, emphatically. Then he pulled himself upright and took a deep breath. ‘This is too embarrassing. But so much of my life is, it seems.’
‘It is not your fault,’ she assured him. ‘And I have seen you worse. Let me help you back to your room.’
He gave a very weak laugh as they made their way to the stairs. ‘That does nothing to console me. The last thing a man wants to be is helpless in the presence of a beautiful woman.’ He stopped for a moment and wiped a hand across his face. ‘And weeping over a horse. You must think me mad as well as crippled.’
‘The physicians did say you might not be yourself,’ she reminded him.
He gave her another wry smile. ‘It does not reassure me to hear I might run mad and no one will think twice about it. I am sorry to inform you of this, my dear. But I cannot blame a head injury on my tears over the loss of old Jupe. He was a fine horse and my truest friend. I must have told you how long we were together.’
‘I understand,’ she said, trying not to appear relieved. His upset, no matter how unjustified, had been a help. He was too busy trying to save some scrap of dignity to ask any more questions of her.
He paused, took a firm grip on the stair rail and gave another quick wipe of his eyes with the back of his hand before moving up another step. ‘All the same, I apologise. If I am still not the master of body or mind, I am unfit company. It was a mistake to inflict myself on others this evening.’
‘You cannot be expected to hide in your room for ever. And you are doing much better than yesterday,’ she added, since it was perfectly true. Now that he was awake, the speed of his recovery was impressive. ‘The family is eager to see you and will be patient.’
‘Not too patient,’ he said, wiping the last moisture from his eyes. ‘I am barely on my feet again and Adam means to put us out.’
‘No.’ She had no right to think it. Had she forgotten she was an interloper here? This was not her home and she must not think of it as such. But if she did not live here, then where was she to go?
Felkirk gave her a wan smile. ‘I said something similar, when he suggested it. But he is right. I have a home of my own, less than a mile from here.’ He paused, then said, ‘We have a home. It is where we belong. Tomorrow, you shall see.’
‘But...’ What was she to tell Montague? And how was she to tell him? There was no time to leave a signal.
They had reached the top of the stairs and Felkirk balanced carefully on a single crutch and draped his free arm about her shoulders. ‘You have nothing to worry about. Adam was right to suggest it, as you were just now. I cannot hide in my room for ever, assuming I will improve. And we cannot use the size of this place, and the presence of Adam and Penny, to hide from each other.’
Had it been so obvious that she was avoiding him? She could not think of an answer to it, so busied herself with helping him the last few feet down the hall to his room. They were standing outside the door to his sickroom. The valet was no doubt waiting inside to help him to bed. If he did not need her any longer, she could make her excuses and escape to the ground floor to tell the family that he had retired. He might be sound asleep by the time she returned. He was right that she could not avoid him for ever. But was one more night so much to ask?
She dropped her gaze to the floor and offered a curtsy. It was probably not the way a loving wife was supposed to behave. She should be warmer, bolder and unafraid to catch his eye. But when he was near like this, she could not think clearly. What was to become of her, once they were out of this house and had only each other for company? She turned away, glancing back down the hall. ‘If you do not need me any longer, I will return to the parlour and explain to the family.’
‘There is one last thing,’ he said, as though something had just occurred to him and gestured her close again, as though about to whisper.
She leaned in as well.
Then he kissed her. It was just a buss upon the lips. It was so quick and sweet that she gasped in surprise. And for a moment, her mind was calm. Not empty, as it was when she was with Montague. It was as placid as a lake on a windless day. Then she felt the faintest ripples of expectation. Was she actually hoping for another kiss?
‘Thank you, for your help. And your devotion,’ he said. There was no indication of his feelings on the matter, other than the faintest of smiles.
‘It was...’ Why could she not find her words? And why could she not draw away from him? She was leaning against him, as though she was the one who needed crutches. Montague would not have approved. He had sent her here as a seductress. He did not want her behaving like some moonstruck girl...
The second kiss that she had been hoping for came in a rush of sweetness, soft as the wing of a moth. William Felkirk braced himself against the doorframe of his room and pulled her body to him, letting the wall support them both. Then he touched his lips to hers and moved them slowly, tenderly, before closing them once, twice, three times, against her mouth.
Why did she feel so breathless? Montague would have laughed and called her a fool. But she did not want to think of him, just now. Instead, she focused on the slight cleft in the chin that hovered before her eyes as those same gentle lips kissed her forehead. There was a faint shadow there, where his valet had missed a whisker or two. She wanted to kiss him there, to trace the crease with her tongue and feel the roughness of the stubble.
She had waited too long. Felkirk was setting her back on her feet, smiling down into her face. And for the first time, she saw the easy smile and friendly nature his family assured her was his by habit. ‘You are right, my dear. You must go back to the parlour. And I must rest. Much as I would like to say otherwise, I fear there are things I am simply not yet capable of.’
He meant bed play. She did not know if it was proper for a wife to do so, but she blushed at the thought.
It made him laugh. ‘Although, with you here, looking as you do, I will pray most fervently for a return to health and strength.’
‘I will pray for you, as well,’ she agreed.
‘And pray for my memory,’ he added. ‘I cannot recall what we have meant to each other. But I am sure, once you are in my arms, it will all come back to me.’
She thought of the beads she kept in her dresser. She would tell them tonight, several times over, and hope that the quantity of prayer for a selective memory might counter anything he had asked for.
Now that William Felkirk was awake, Justine was discovering the inconveniences of married life. When he had been in a coma, there had been little question as to who made the decisions. On the rare occasions she had been
