The earl and the countess looked at each other, then at Amanda. Finally they looked at Rex. He smiled, and held out a hand to Amanda. "My angel."
"She is right, you know," the countess told her husband, leading him from the room. "And you need a good meal. I'll have Cook fix your favorites. Do you still prefer lamb over beef?"
The earl glanced back once, then followed his wife. "I like that gal. She has a good head on her shoulders, and good bottom, too."
"Of course. She is my godchild."
Chapter Twenty-eight
Too bad Rex could not enjoy the company he wanted, now that he had Amanda in private. The door was left open for convention's sake, but they were alone for however long it took his parents to eviscerate each other. Just him and both of her. Damn.
She laid a cool cloth across his eyes and told him to rest. Rest? That was all he had been doing, and the sands of time were cascading through the hourglass. Still, Amanda's touch was soothing. When Murchison applied a cold towel to Rex's head, it felt like a sack of wet sand pressing his brains against the sides of his skull as if to hold off a flood. When Amanda did it, he felt butterfly kisses, the lightness of a spring day. He sighed in pleasure. Not as much pleasure as he wanted to feel, even in his debilitated state. He wasn't dead, after all.
He sighed again, because he might as well be. "I suppose they think it's safe to leave us alone, knowing I am too weak to ravish you."
He could not see with the cloth over his eyes, but he could hear the smile in Amanda's voice when she asked if he wanted to ravish her.
"Take you against your will? Never. You must know I would never hurt you. But want you? I have wanted you since the first time I picked you up and you fit so well in my arms. I despised myself, because you were helpless, needing care and protection. But then I had to bathe you and I was lost. I might be despicable, but your body is like a magnet to me, a lodestar with a siren's song. Then, knowing you, hearing you, seeing your courage and virtue, I found more to admire, more to desire. I suppose it is fortunate I am too befuddled to do any ravishing."
"But I am not." Her hand stroked his cheek, where Murchison had shaved him that morning. "Recall, I was the one who came to your room. I wanted you ever since I woke up in your arms, knowing I was safe. Everything about you befuddles me, and I have no broken head for an excuse."
He pulled the cloth off his eyes so he could see her-one of her, thank goodness-and note the rosy color that stained her cheeks at the admission of unladylike impulses. He blessed those impulses. "Gads, you are so beautiful I could weep for not being able to hold you again. No matter how wrong I know it might be."
She placed a feathery kiss on his lips. "But would it be so wrong? You almost died. I might still face the hangman."
"It would be very wrong," he insisted, the edges of his vision starting to blur from the effort to keep her steady and single in his sight. "But for the life of me I cannot remember why."
"Because I would only love you more, and you would feel duty bound to offer for me. That would be far worse."
He heard her distress, that he should speak of wanting, while she spoke of love. He tried to soften her disappointment. "I feel far more than wanting, angel. Truly I do."
She smiled. "I know that, silly. Do not fret. I shall not take advantage of your weakened state. Should I leave?"
Leave, when he felt a hundred times better, simply by having her near? "Please stay. Your touch is like… Your voice is like… Hell, I am no poet. I just like having you here. Please stay, talk to me."
Amanda sat beside his bed with the chair pulled close, but she kept her hand atop his. At first they spoke of his parents, but Amanda did not know all of the stumbling blocks between the older couple, and Rex was not ready to explain about the truth-seeing. She would only suppose his brain was severely damaged by the brick. Worse, what if she ran off, thinking her protectors, Daniel, the earl, Harry, and himself, were all demented or all deviants? He was not ready to put her understanding to the test.
He felt disloyal, but to her or his family, he could not say. He decided to ask about her parents instead. Had they been happily married, her mother and father? How had they met? Had they wished for other children? He had few enough examples of good matches, love matches, to consider.
Marriage was not a good topic at all, he realized when Amanda started gnawing on her lower lip. Her parents were dead, and her last beau, Ashway, wanted her for material gain, not affection. As for himself, well…
"They are getting closer to the valet's trail," he quickly said.
She leaned forward and squeezed his hand, as eager to drop the subject of marriage as she was for more news. "Do you truly think they will find Brusseau soon? Nearly three days have gone by."
"If it is at all possible, Daniel will find him. Dimm is helping, and half of Bow Street is after the reward we've posted. Harry says he knows the demimonde, the underworld, and he'll be paying for information there. The valet cannot have gone far, not with the men we stationed at the docks and the posting houses and tollbooths asking for an injured Frenchman."
"But what if he was not the one who threw the brick? You said you already believe he did not kill Sir Frederick." She did not ask why he believed the valet. Perhaps Brusseau had an alibi.
"If he did not commit the murder, he knows who did. I think he is the one who attacked me because his height and weight fit the man in the alley, and no one else has reason. Besides, if Brusseau is not guilty of assault, or lying wounded by Verity, why did he go to ground? He knows we are looking for him, and we know he is not at Johnston's any longer." He took her hand in his and let his thumb rub against her wrist. "They'll find him. We'll have answers. Then we can think about those other questions."
Before Amanda could ask about the other questions, Rex fell asleep. When he awoke, Amanda's hand felt cooler and stiffer in his. "Have I kept you sitting here too long, sweetheart?"
"Not at all, darling," Lady Royce said dryly, patting his fingers.
He grabbed his hand back and tucked it under the covers. His mother brought a cup of lemonade to his mouth and then dabbed at his lips when he was finished drinking, almost as if she knew what she was doing. "Thank you," he said. "Where is Amanda?"
"Where she belongs, which is anywhere but your bedroom. If you were not so ill I would give you a piece of my mind for what you are doing to that poor child. Doesn't she have enough to worry about?"
How could he tell her godmother that Amanda felt her virtue entirely dispensable? "As you can see, I am not up to hell-raking today. Perhaps tomorrow."
"Sarcasm is uncalled for, and I do not refer to Amanda's innocence. I am thinking of her heart, you lummox. I warned you I would not tolerate your trifling with her tender feelings."
Rex tried not to squirm like a child with his pockets full of pilfered cookies. "Speaking of tender feelings, have you and my father finished tearing strips off each other? Is he on his way back to the Hall?"
The countess fussed with the pitcher of lemonade and glasses on the bedside table rather than face Rex. "Royce and I have agreed to cry peace. We did not so much as toss the turtle soup at each other at dinner. Of course, I insisted Amanda join us for the meal to maintain the pretense of politeness, but we managed quite well. Your father was charmed, as I knew he would be. He has agreed to stay in Town to help clear Amanda's name."
"I am relieved that she will have his expertise in legal matters, especially when I cannot count on riding to her rescue."
"No one knows more about the law than your father. He is resting now. I do not know what that man was thinking, to let himself get so frail."