Page 66 of To Woo a Wicked Widow

Nash went to the bed and felt the patient’s forehead and cheek. “Did you give him another dose of Putnam’s elixir?”

“Yes, my lord. Early this morning. We’ve finished the last of the vial.”

Nash sighed. “Do not be distressed. Putnam said the fever and discomfort would last for about three or four more days. But I will send for him and ask him to bring more of the medicine.” He put his hand on Mrs. Courtland’s shoulder and squeezed gently. “I believe he will recover.”

“I pray so, Lord Wrotham.” She turned to look at her husband, concern etched in the lines around her eyes.

“Mrs. Courtland.” Charlotte took both of the woman’s hands. “If there is anything at all I may do to see to your comfort or that of your husband, you must send for me at once. He saved my life. If I can do him a like service, I would be most grateful.”

“You are kindness itself, my lady. Will . . . Mr. Courtland will be so pleased when I tell him of your visit.” A fleeting smile gave way to a grimly clenched jaw that betrayed her distress.

The figure on the bed began to moan and thrash about. Mrs. Courtland released Charlotte’s hands and flew to her husband’s side. She grabbed a cup from the bedside table and deftly held it to his lips. “Here, Will. Drink this down.”

He sipped it avidly, then shook his head.

“No, my dear. All of it, if you please.” She succeeded in getting him to drink the whole cup, then eased his head back onto the pillows.

“I’ll send Putnam up as soon as he arrives,” Nash said and Mrs. Courtland nodded absently, her attention fully taken up by her husband.

Nash motioned to Charlotte and they left the room as quietly as they had entered. “I do believe he will recover,” he said as he steered her toward the staircase. “With such a pretty and devoted wife to live for, I suspect he will fight valiantly.”

Startled, Charlotte stopped and gave him a quizzical look. “Do you think such things make a difference?”

“I know if it were me, it would make all the difference in the world.” His eyes flickered briefly with desire; then he took her arm and once again led her toward the stairs.

Flustered by that look, Charlotte cast about for another topic—any other topic—to distract him. “I want to thank you again, Nash, for taking such good care of him.”

Nash shrugged. “It was the least I could do for the man. I’d have put him in the countess’s apartment, though it’s in sad need of renovation. I need a countess to take it in hand.”

Charlotte halted at the top of the staircase. Her heartbeat stuttered. She glanced at Nash, who looked back with hopeful eyes. She burst into laughter. “Then you need to find a wife. You have offered for someone?”

“I have.” He motioned for her to precede him down the steps, but Charlotte stopped, stunned.

Dread stole into her heart. “Do I know the bride-tobe?” Perhaps he spoke of his proposal to Georgina.

“Yes, you do.” He smiled. “Intimately.”

“Who—”

Nash held up a hand. “I offered, and she very eagerly accepted me.” He touched her hair, smoothing a stray tendril into place. “Then treacherously reneged.”

Her heart gave a great thump and she grabbed the banister. “I’m sure she had an excellent reason for jilting you.” She started down the staircase, determination in each step. He’d not win her over with kind words and a touch. Even if that touch set her aflame.

“According to her, I had betrayed her trust.” Nash trailed her down the stairs. “But she gave me little chance to explain or apologize.”

Charlotte reached the bottom step, at a loss to know what to do. Her first thought was to flee home rather than continue this conversation, but he’d offered to talk about the robbers. Drat. She needed to know what plans he had made.

“This way,” he said, and led her around the stairs and down a hall to a door on the left.

They entered the study and Charlotte stopped just over the threshold, amazement dismissing their disconcerting banter.

Chaos reigned here.

The room seemed a depository for every book, paper, or ledger in the whole of Kent, none of them in any discernible order. Stacks of books created myriad pathways throughout the room. Piles of papers lay strewn over every flat surface. Maps peeped out from between books on the shelves.

Stunned at this completely new side to Lord Wrotham, Charlotte edged carefully into the disarray. “How on earth do you ever find anything in here?”

He chuckled and nonchalantly strode to the bell and rang it. “I have a method to my madness.” He grinned and tapped his head. “It’s all locked safe in here. I can put my hand on anything you’ve a mind to ask for. Unless Acres has been in.”