Page 23
5
“I know that I have lived because I have felt, and, feeling giving me the knowledge of my existence, I know likewise that I shall exist no more when I shall have ceased to feel.”
Giacomo Casanova
Despite her assurance to Julius, Audrey was anxious as she crossed the back garden and calculated a route to Markham House that would avoid anyone watching the earl’s home. The rain had eased to a fine mist, and as she exited into the alleyway, she turned right. It would take longer to reach the duke’s townhouse and the grocer, but Julius’s caution echoed in her ears.
She took a circuitous route, pausing at each corner to glance back along the street she had left, ever wary of pursuit. The cobbles were slick, the air cool with moisture, and her boots made only the faintest sound on the damp pavement. Soon, she had delivered the note, visited the grocer, and secured a small jar of honey charged to the earl’s account. Then she stopped at the nearby apothecary to purchase powdered bark and dried herbs she could brew into a fever-reducing concoction. She would do all she could.
When she returned to the mews, the clouds still glowered overhead, but the rain had slowed to a whisper. Letting herself in through the mews, she crossed the garden once more, stepping inside through the kitchen door to find that the table had been cleared in her absence. Her valise and other items remained untouched. Rose had evidently chosen not to interfere.
The older woman looked up from where she was wringing out a towel, the stained linen red with what Audrey assumed was Julius’s blood. “Bless you, Miss Gideon, we’m that glad to see ’ee home again. We been proper worried.”
“Thank you. I took my time to ensure no one was following me.”
Rose pursed her lips, her round face still etched with worry. “’Tis hard to credit anyone would lay a hand on Master Julius, him being such a good soul.”
Audrey nodded as she began repacking her father’s old valise. The familiar scent of leather and liniment gave her courage. He had trained her well, but treating an earl’s heir under threat of fever was no small task. Fortunately, Julius was young and strong.
“It is outrageous. I have some herbs I need to brew for Master Julius. Could you prepare a tea tray with boiling water in a teapot?”
“Aye, Miss Gideon,” Rose replied, already gathering what she needed. “Just the hot water?”
“Yes. Thank you. Where is his lordship?”
“Patrick near carried him to his bedchamber, third floor, down the west corridor.”
Audrey knew the location. She had stayed on that floor before when Lady Hays acted as her chaperon.
“Could I have a teaspoon?”
Rose handed one to her. Ready again, Audrey lifted her valise and turned toward the servants’ stairs.
On the second-floor landing, Audrey set down her valise and slipped off her cape. It was sodden and clung to her shoulders like a second skin, the damp wool chilling her to the bone. Folding it over her arm, she gave a shiver. Each layer of clothing she wore had grown heavy with moisture, and she silently wished for something dry. Perhaps there would be a robe or blanket in Julius’s room. She could have her garments dried out later.
Lifting her father’s worn valise once more, she climbed the final set of stairs to the third floor. Turning into the west hall, she walked to the last door and knocked.
It swung open almost at once to reveal Patrick. His whiskered face was pinched with concern, the lines around his eyes deeper than usual.
“Miss Gideon, you’re home safe! Master Julius is in a high fever. He’s abed now, but he’s in sore need of you.
Audrey gave a composed nod and swept past him with quiet urgency.
Julius lay beneath the deep green-and-gold brocade of the canopied bed, his form barely stirring. She shook her head. This was precisely why she could not leave him in the care of untrained servants. Crossing the thick rug, she set the valise down beside the bed and folded the covers back with brisk confidence.
Patrick had removed the bloodied garments, and Julius now rested in his small clothes, his limbs restless and his torso flushed with heat. Audrey had seen her share of bare flesh during her years assisting her father, but the sight of Julius gave her pause. His chest was broad and well-formed, his abdomen flat and firm. Despite the sickly sheen of sweat across his skin, he looked strong. More than that, he looked beautiful.
A dusting of fair hair covered his torso, catching the lamplight. She had assumed the golden curls atop his head were an artifice of the valet’s handiwork. Evidently, it was the brown at the sides and back that was the illusion.
She pulled off her damp kid gloves and pressed the back of her fingers lightly to his brow. He was far too warm, his forehead slick with perspiration.
“Please open the windows, Patrick. We need to cool Master Julius down.”
Patrick nodded and crossed the room, unfastening the latches on the tall mullioned windows. The view overlooked the rear gardens, ensuring privacy from the street. A faint breeze stirred the curtains.
Julius opened a bleary eye, his gaze struggling to focus. “You are back.”
“I am,” Audrey said softly.
