Free What a Lady Most Desires by Lecia Cornwall Page B

Stephen.” She recalled the compassion in the soldier’s eyes.
    â€œWill he gossip?” Meg asked. “Nicholas—­and I’m sure Stephen as well—­will insist on absolute discretion.”
    â€œThat won’t be a problem. His wounds have left him unable to speak. Despite that, he got up from his cot and began to help almost as soon as his wounds were stitched and bandaged. I found him sitting next to Stephen one afternoon, watching over him.”
    â€œI’ll tell Nicholas about him,” Meg said.
    â€œTell me what?” The Duke of Temberlay asked as he came through the door. “Shouldn’t you be resting?”
    Delphine watched him lift her feet onto the settee and put a pillow under them, and plump another to go behind her shoulders. She marveled at the besotted look in Nicholas’s eyes. She had known him as a rake, a warrior, a rough and rowdy friend of her brother’s. He’d gone to war and had come back a different man—­harder, colder, more dangerous. Marrying Meg had changed that. Meg smiled sweetly at her husband, love evident in her gaze as well. Delphine felt her heart constrict with longing.
    â€œI think I should be going,” Delphine said, and rose to her feet. Neither of them noticed as she slipped out.

 
    Chapter 11

    â€œH e’s well enough to make the trip, I suppose,” the doctor grunted, as if it didn’t matter one whit to him whether Stephen was well enough or not, not now he was suspected of cowardice and theft. “He may not survive the voyage, of course, but—­” Stephen felt his skin heat, and indignation warred with fear in his belly. Didn’t anyone believe he was innocent? Surely it was a mistake, or a nightmare—­the blindness, the accusations, all of it. He’d wake up, and everything would be fine.
    â€œHe’ll survive,” Stephen heard Delphine say as the good doctor made his way to the door. There was a fierce certainty in her tone. His champion. He clutched the sheets against the bandages that swathed his chest, the pain biting deep into his bones.
    He was in constant pain, and the charges against him were looking like a battle he couldn’t win. It might be a blessing if he were to succumb to an infection, or trip over his own feet going up the gangplank onto the ship, and tumble into the sea. He wouldn’t fight it.
    He frowned. It would be a terrible disappointment to Delphine. She was trying so hard, was so determined he’d live. Anger rose. Who was she to decide that?
    â€œIs there anything I can get for you?” Delphine asked, her hand gentle on his forehead, checking again for fever. He’d grown used to her touch. She was here every time he woke.
    The washcloth swept over his brow, and he grabbed it from her hand and threw it. “Leave it,” he snapped. “Get out.” He was never rude to ladies. He’d been brought up to revere them, treat them kindly in every situation. His conscience stung, but she was driving him mad. He did not want her here, fussing, making him some kind of charity project. Not when tomorrow he’d leave, and he wouldn’t ever feel her touch on his brow again. “Please,” he added gruffly.
    She didn’t move. He would have heard the rustle of her gown, or retreating footsteps. He waited for the sound of tears, or an angry rebuke, but it didn’t come.
    â€œShall I read to you?” she asked instead, her voice calm. She had never once given in to panic, or fits of anger or tears, despite his mood or his wounds. Did that mean he was worse off than he thought, or better? He’d know if he could see her, could read the emotions in her eyes. He remembered the last time he looked into those eyes—­sparkling in the candlelight as they waltzed, full of mischief and promise and wit. A flirt, he’d thought, a snob. But if that was true, why was she here?
    â€œMy father used