The Wedding Affair (Rebel Hearts series Book 1) (17 page)

A few paces down the hall, she spotted her aunt disappearing into a distant guest room. In need of a distraction, she headed in that direction to see if her aunt needed assistance for anything at all. Keeping busy had always been good for mending her soul, and with a wedding ahead there was much yet to do.

The door had been left slightly ajar. Other voices talking low joined with Aunt Pen’s and drifted into the hall. Sally leaned close to listen before blundering inside and interrupting.

“He seems no better or worse,” Aunt Penelope said.

“Why did you move him?” her grandfather asked.

“I did not dare take any chances,” Aunt Pen replied. “There was no hint of fever on his arrival, but I thought it prudent to have him moved in case it is a serious illness that might spread.”

“This is unfortunate,” the duke said. “Find out who he has had most contact with and keep a discreet eye on them for signs of similar symptoms.”

“If only we knew what they were. He collapsed so suddenly,” her aunt said. “Besides ourselves, my nieces have all stood close to him. Maggie partnered with him at dinner and a valet attended to him morning and night. They could all be at risk.”

“He visited William before arriving here too. Send a warning to the nurse to keep a close watch on William’s health in the coming weeks and specifically to watch for signs of a fever. His health is still much too delicate to fight off another infection.”

“I have already done so,” Aunt Pen promised.

The duke thumped his canes on the carpeted rugs inside the room. “Damn it all, I wanted to see what he has made of himself, not bury him. Something must be done.”

A throat cleared and Mr. Morgan spoke. “There was a gentleman with him in the carriage on the day of his arrival, Your Grace. The man went on to the inn and intended to remain there, I believe. Could he know the nature and perhaps a cure for this illness?”

“Bring him, by whatever means necessary,” the duke demanded. “We must know what we are dealing with and be prepared to contain the spread.”

“I am so sorry I could not be more help, Your Grace. No further cases of high fever have been reported so far. However, without particulars from the patient, I am at a loss of what to recommend in this instance. We might have no choice but to wait and see if the captain recovers on his own,” Doctor Hobbits advised in a voice devoid of hope.

Sally pushed her way inside the room.

Felix lay on the bed around which they were gathered and was as still as the grave. Her grandfather, aunt, and the doctor and butler observed him, looking as if Felix was about to die.

If not for hearing their remarks, she might have thought him dead too on first glance. But on closer inspection, Felix was so drenched in sweat that his shirt was limp and stuck to his skin. His lips were parted and pale, but it was the shallow quality of his breathing that sent gooseflesh rushing over her skin.

She moved into the room, heart pounding with fear and dread at the state he was in.

He could not die. Not like this.

“Sally, get out,” her grandfather growled when he noticed her. “You have no business being in this sickroom. Morgan, take her out and then fetch his friend.”

Morgan rushed toward her, arms outstretched as if to hold her back without actually touching her.

“You have to help him,” she begged. “Please do something.”

Felix sucked in a sharp breath at the sound of her voice, but that was all he managed.

“My lady, there is nothing we can do but wait,” the butler advised, still trying his best to herd her toward the door. “You must think of your own health first and foremost.”

“I am.” She had been intimate with Felix last night. His mouth on her body, his hands on her skin. She had noticed his heat but not realized it had been a fever in the making at the time. If his condition were to spread to others, then she would undoubtedly have the same complaint by now. She should be kept apart from everyone else to prevent the spread of infection.

Sally rolled up her sleeves and avoided Morgan as she scanned the room, looking for a basin of water and a washcloth with which to cool her lover with. “I am staying. We touched yesterday.”

“Touched?” her aunt queried, one brow raised high.

The tone of Aunt Pen’s question suggested much, but she ignored it. For too long she had suspected her aunt knew she and Felix had shared a bed anyway. Thankfully she could not possibly know how often it had been or that they had been intimate last night. Sally chose the lesser of her indiscretions to confess. “He grasped my bare hand in the garden, so if he is contagious then it might already be too late for me.”

“I see.” The duke pierced her with a strange look. “Penelope, you can leave since you undoubtedly wore gloves when you were reintroduced to the captain. Please ensure the good health of the rest of the family. Discreetly, mind. Let us not start a panic. It seems we have no choice but to leave the captain in Sally’s care for now if we want to contain the situation.”

Aunt Pen rushed from the room; the doctor followed.

Sally poured water in a basin and soaked a cloth.

Her grandfather drew close. “Are you sure you will be all right with him?”

“Yes, but I will need a few things. Ice chips, clean sheets, and a fresh cotton mattress for after the fever breaks. I have some beeswax balm for his cracked lips on my dresser. My maid knows the one. Have them delivered as soon as possible.”

“The ice was to be set aside for your wedding breakfast. Your mother planned a pair of towering swans for table decoration.”

“She can fret about the size of the swans later.” Sally stripped away the drenched cravat hanging loosely from Felix’s neck. “He must be cooled as quickly as possible.”

Her grandfather approached to aid her, but she held her hand palm out to stop him. “Did you touch him?”

“No. But we have spent many an hour together.”

“Without knowing what we are dealing with, it is best to limit any further spread.” Her grandfather was not a young man and not robust of health anymore. She could not allow him to place himself in harm’s way. “Best be safe and stay back.”

Her grandfather appeared amused. “Do you plan to undress him entirely, all by yourself?”

“It is necessary.” Sally nodded. She had partially undressed him six years before, but the last time he had been standing and very much aware of what she was doing to him. “He cannot stay as he is. I will be as quick as possible and then cover him.”

“I forget sometimes that you are braver than I give you credit for.” He wavered a moment, then nodded, ceding her the right to decide. “I will leave so you might not be embarrassed. I will send this fellow, this friend of Felix’s, up to the door as soon as Morgan returns and arrange the other things you asked for.”

“Thank you.”

Chapter Eighteen

T
he door shut quietly behind her grandfather, and then Sally took a deep gulping breath, bracing her hands on the bed. She was not brave. She was trembling with fear and equal parts of relief too. Felix had not left her without saying good-bye. He had been moved to protect everyone’s safety. She looked into his face and swore to think better of him from now on and not jump to conclusions. She touched his brow gently and discovered him scorching.

“Felix? Can you hear me?” she whispered, soothing his skin with her fingertips. “You have to help me undress you. You might be too heavy for me to lift on my own.”

He mumbled something unintelligible she hoped was agreement. She attacked his clothing, removing his pocket watch and a few coins tucked into his pockets, then rolled him to remove his waistcoat, unbuttoned the fall of his trousers, and then forced his shirt up over his head. He did help a little, but his efforts seemed uncoordinated and just a touch confused at what was going on.

When his torso was bare, she worked on his lower portions, peeling his breeches down his hips and legs and removing the stockings on his feet. His skin, wherever she touched him, was slick with sweat and burning hot all the way to the soles of his long feet.

She tossed the sodden bundle aside and raised the sheet up to his waist just as someone knocked loudly on the door. Startled, she took a moment to compose herself before answering. “Come in,” she called.

Her elder brother’s valet stuck his face and little else through the door. Despite his reluctance to enter the room, she was relieved to see the man. “You can take the captain’s uniform and have it laundered and pressed.”

“Begging your pardon, my lady, but His Grace suggested it might need to be burned.”

“Burned?” The idea of Felix without his captain’s uniform shocked her. “I do not know that you need go that far or so soon. Felix, the captain that is, will need it for when he returns to his ship.”

The valet wavered. “I will have to come back for it if he worsens.”

Sally swallowed. The idea of Felix in a worse state filled her with utter dread. “Thank you, Rodmell. I do not understand how this could happen. He seemed so healthy last night. So vital.”

“And this morning too when I laid out his uniform, if a bit out of sorts and short of temper.”

Most likely her fault. She twisted her fingers in the sheet near his hip, feeling guilty and ashamed that their last words to each other had been angry ones. They had once gotten on together so well. Holding a grudge against him now seemed pointless.

“The duke said you wished for chips of ice and other things,” Rodmell said as he hefted items through the door. “I have also brought canvas sacks to put the ice into.”

“Thank you, Rodmell.” Sally nodded. “I did forget to ask for those.”

“Are you feeling all right, my lady? No fever in yourself, I trust.”

“I am in excellent health as always,” she assured the man.

“Good.” The man peeked at the half-naked captain quickly, then averted his eyes. “If there is anything else you need, the duke has bid me remain outside the door until his fever passes. Just call for me.”

Sally nodded, appreciating the support even if it was simply a lingering presence down the hall that she could depend upon. Her brother’s valet was a member of the staff whom she had learned to depend upon over the years, and she would now too. She did not know what she would do if Felix worsened. If he died… She could not bear to consider that outcome. Rodmell departed with a bob of his head, leaving her alone with her former betrothed.

Practicality would help her manage and keep her panic at bay.

Sally marched to the door, grabbed the first heavy pail and small canvas sacks, and hauled them across the room. She dumped enough ice into the washbasin to fill it. Next she stuffed the sack to halfway and laid it atop Hastings’s sweaty head. He flinched. “This will help cool you,” she promised him.

She placed several sacks of ice about his body, one beneath the sole of each hot foot under the sheet, another two beside each arm. He hissed when anything touched him at first and then sighed after the shock of the cold lessened. She took a soft cloth and filled that with just enough ice to lay upon his chest without burning his skin. There was also an empty tankard beside the bed, and she filled that with ice before perching at his side on the mattress.

“Felix?” Sally brushed a piece of ice against his dry lips and watched it melt into his mouth. “You must get better. The
Selfridge
needs you. You have a ship to command. A war to fight and win. I will not have your death on my conscience. We should not have argued.”

To that he grumbled her name, but then a shuddering sigh left him and he swallowed down a little of the melted ice. She continued to feed him ice chips, holding them even when he sucked her fingers into his mouth too to get at the moisture.

When he began to shiver, Sally removed the ice packs and drew the sheet up to his chin. She rubbed his body briskly and promised him he would recover soon. Too soon though he thrashed about enough to dislodge the sheet and, entirely nude, began to sweat once more. Sally patted his skin dry and reapplied the ice packs, offering comfort as the afternoon progressed toward evening. She swept the beeswax salve across his lips, lips that had brought her so much pleasure last night, now twisted with pain and misery. Doubt wormed its way into her heart that recovery might be beyond him. She had never known anyone to fever so fast and not die from it.

She was terrified as never before. He might die before they made peace. She eased onto the bed and took his hand in hers. A useless action since he likely did not understand what she was doing. She wished she had not told him she hated him, but she could not forgive him for leaving her alone with her desires.

Desires that had not abated in the intervening years.

“Lover, come back to me,” she whispered, brushing his unruly hair from his face. “Do not dare leave me again.”

The door opened suddenly, and caught by surprise, Sally bolted up from the bed.

A stranger preceded her grandfather into the room, a rough-looking fellow with gaunt cheeks, unruly black hair, and the bluest eyes she had ever beheld. But they were cold eyes. Hard and unfriendly.

Her grandfather introduced them perfunctorily. “This is the captain’s friend, Gabriel Jennings.”

She knew him by reputation. A disgraced captain was always much talked about. She nodded to him and wrung her hands. “Can you help him?”