Page 32 of The Devilish Pleasures of a Duke

“Indeed, you do not,” his valet agreed. “I thought you said you’d never felt better in your life, that something had happened to snap you out of the doldrums.”

“Damnation.”

“My lord?” Bones asked, busily repackaging his soaps and blades.

“You dressed a few men for their funerals after battle in the Punjab, didn’t you?” Adrian asked.

“Alas, more than a few. It was the least I could do, with no professional to prepare their bodies for burial. I viewed it as an artistic compassion. Remember that at one time, I had hoped to work in the theater—”

“Do you think you could make me look a little less wholesome?” Adrian interrupted. “Not deathly ill, you understand. But a trifle poorly. A man you’d feel needed a little tenderness.”

“I could make you look as if you had been trampled by a herd of elephants,” Bones said with a contemplative air. “Or by a stagecoach, considering we are back in what one arguably calls the civilized world.”

“I doubt we need go to those extremes,” Adrian said pensively. “An impression of underlying malaise will suffice for my purposes.”

Thankfully Bones did not inquire what those purposes might be. He was already poking about the pots of rouge and rice paper that sat in neat rows upon the dressing table. “Ah, if I could only find a little ceruse—are you quite sure about this, my lord? The physician is waiting outside the door. He will insist you remain in bed if you appear un-well. I know how idleness displeases you.”

Adrian dropped down onto the chaise, tilting his head back in anticipation. “I shall simply have to take his advice if he does, won’t I? Who am I to argue with a superior mind?”

It seemed to Emma that scarcely fifteen minutes of relative peace had elapsed before another crisis presented itself. Charlotte intercepted her at the door, her cheeks high with color.

“I was just on the way into the garden.” Emma was tying the ribbons of her low-crowned silk bonnet beneath her chin. “Have the girls settled down?”

“The girls are fine.” Charlotte paused to catch her breath.

“That reminds me, Charlotte. Did the earl’s niece send any more news of when she would arrive? I should hate for her to witness a scene such as that with Harriet on her first day. When she—”

Charlotte broke in quietly. “It’s him.”

“What?” And yet deep inside she knew. How could she not when nothing else had occupied her thoughts?

“It’s Lord Wolverton.” Charlotte’s voice was soft but distraught. “I heard the footmen asking about the house for Heath. It seems the physician has just finished examining Lord Wolverton and fears he’s taken a turn for the worse. He did warn us this could happen.”

“Oh, no.” A chill raised gooseflesh on her arms. “He looked so…vital when I saw him last night.” Rather too vital. “I should have visited him personally this morning. This is all my fault.”

“Of course, it’s not,” Charlotte assured her, ever loyal to her social sponsor and cousin. “His condition must have declined during the night. How could anyone fault you?”

“During the night?” Emma lapsed into worried silence. If she hadn’t exactly encouraged Adrian’s amorous advances late last night, she had not rebuffed them, either. To think that the exertion of their unplanned episode could have been the catalyst for his decline. No. She refused to entertain such a mortifying possibility. The passion of Emma Boscastle doing physical harm to a man? She felt faintly ill herself all of a sudden.

“Have you seen him yourself, Charlotte?” she asked, her eyes ink dark with distress.

“Yes. But only for the few moments I left Julia with the girls and accompanied the physician.”

“How did he look?”

“A little pale. His skin had a waxen look. Not, I don’t know, well, but then I didn’t want to appear as if I were examining him.”

“Dear me.” Emma could not easily envision his deterioration, having left a man whose energy had been striking.

“He was ever so cavalier about it, Emma. I could tell he was struggling to hide how he felt. A true gentleman at heart that man, if ever I saw one, and I don’t care what he may have done in the past. He even insisted I not disturb you with news of his relapse.”

“Which, of course, quite properly, you did.”

Charlotte gave a heartfelt sigh as Emma edged around her to ascend the stairs. “Yes, well, I knew you would kill me if I didn’t.”

Chapter Eight

As she entered the bedchamber, Emma took grave note of the Boscastle physician bent at Adrian’s side. The air was redolent with the pungent scent of an herbal poultice and burnt feathers. “How is he?” she asked with a worried glance at the large man lying upon the bed.