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William didn’t mind being around people who hated him—if he did, he would have to live all alone in the woods—he was surrounded by them every day. He didn’t mind being around people he hated; that was just business. But he was looking forward to spending time with the one person who might have actually not minded his presence, and due to his duties as a host, that was almost impossible. So, once again, William found himself on the periphery of the party, looking in.
He glanced at the window where the young people played parlor games and smirked. The things the aristocracy amused themselves with…
He slowly started down the path that led around the house, the heels of his boots echoing in the silent night. The English countryside was beautiful, he had to admit. He had lived most of his life in London, surrounded by buildings, bitter smoke coming from the chimneys, and the rotten smell of the Thames. If he could, he would probably have moved to the countryside. But there was no work for him there. He would get bored in a pinch.
William paused as the strange sound of something scraping against the wall caught his attention. Add to that the rustle of fabric and the heavy breaths, and he would have sworn—
“Ah!” A loud plop was followed by a feminine screech.
William turned the corner only to see a woman lying in a heap of skirts. At least, he assumed it was a woman—a lady, in fact—based on the clothing she was surrounded by. She sat up, scraped the hair away from her face, and sniffled loudly.
William leaned his shoulder against the wall and studied her unhurriedly. The candlelight filtered from inside the house, bathing her in a soft, warm glow.
She had midnight-black hair, which was tangled and matted as if it hadn’t been brushed in a few days. Her cheeks were red, but so was her nose, and it was surrounded by flaky skin, while her lips were as dry as a desert. She looked up at him with her red, droopy eyes and frowned.
“A gentleman would have helped me up by now,” she grumbled in a beautiful, albeit strong accent of unknown origins. The fact that her voice was hoarse and scratchy, and her nose was congested probably didn’t help.
“What makes you think I am a gentleman?” He cocked a brow.
“You are at my uncle’s house party,” she said irritably and stretched out her ungloved hands toward him.
William stepped forward, took her blazing hot hands in his, and tugged her up. “You have a beautiful accent,” he said as she stood a foot away, her hands in his. “Very exotic.”
“It is not exotic,” she countered and lifted her chin. “You are just not educated enough to ascertain it.”
William was so taken aback by her reply that he didn’t know whether to laugh or take offense. And then she sniffed loudly, before pulling back her hands, covering her mouth, and coughing violently.
William blinked and shook his head. Brazen, headstrong, and quite disagreeable, this woman seemed inexplicably charming. Granted, she was sick, and possibly delirious with fever, so perhaps she had no patience for pleasantries.
He took out his crisp, signature crimson handkerchief and handed it to her. “You are most certainly correct,” he said, as she cautiously took the handkerchief into her hand. “I usually pride myself on being well-educated and worldly. I travel quite a lot, you see. But you’re absolutely right. The fact that I do not recognize your accent puts me at a disadvantage. Especially since you seem to speak my language almost flawlessly. And your pronunciation is most precise.”
“Well, my nose is stuffed, so perhaps that makes it easier to pronounce certain sounds.” William swallowed a laugh since the lady didn’t seem to be joking.
“May I ask?” he started cautiously. “You seem incredibly sick. What are you doing climbing down the trellis outside of what I assume is your bedroom?”
“Because my uncle is trying to kill me,” she said, her voice cracking on the last syllable. She turned and coughed into his handkerchief. “Now go away.”
William blinked. “Pardon me?”
“I need to blow my nose,” she said and placed the handkerchief against her face. “You need to be away.”
William shrugged and took a step back. “That’s the best I can do.”
She grumbled something under her nose that sounded like it wasn’t in English, and then she turned away and loudly blew her nose.
“Are you in need of a rescue, by any chance?” William asked nonchalantly.
“Why would I need a rescue?” she asked, still frowning. But to be fair, she looked extremely ill. So, perhaps her displeasure did not have anything to do with William but with her state of illness.
“Well, you said your uncle is trying to kill you.”
She waved a hand and leaned against the stone-cold wall as she whispered, “Not literally.”
“How then?”
She took deep breaths and threw him a sidelong glance. “The doctor told me to lie under the covers with my windows shut and the fire blazing in my room. I’ve been stuck this way for two days, and I am suffocating. But the… the”—she stumbled, clearly searching for the right word—“not clever old doctor told me that this is how I know that the illness is leaving my body, through sweat and sn—” She paused and looked at him apologetically for the first time since they met. “I don’t think I was supposed to tell the details. I am just tired.”
“The climb down the trellis didn’t help, I suppose,” he mused.
