Free Tempting the Marquess by Sara Lindsey Page A

she was out of bed, reaching for her wrapper. Before she gave herself time to think about what she was doing, she crossed the room and rapped lightly on the door connecting her chamber to the marquess’s. If he was asleep he likely wouldn’t hear, and if he wasn’t, if he needed her—
    The door opened to reveal a harried-looking Lord Sheldon. His face was drawn and his hair was disheveled—but she couldn’t deny he also looked quite splendid in his red silk banyan. Then she heard it. The sound of a child crying.
    “Miss Weston? Is something amiss?”
    “I—I heard something and grew worried. Perhaps the door between our rooms was ajar,” she invented. Now was not the time to discuss the possibility that she had been visited by the castle’s ghost.
    “I am sorry to have woken you, Miss Weston.”
    Olivia peered past him and made out a little huddled mound in the middle of an enormous tester bed.
    “Your son.” The words hovered between a question and a statement.
    The marquess nodded. “Yes, my son, Edward. Now, if you will return to your bed . . .” He took a step toward her, clearly expecting that she would retreat to her chamber.
    Livvy held her ground. “Does he have night terrors?”
    Lord Sheldon let out an impatient sigh. “If you must know, Edward suffers from a chronic chest complaint. He is prone to asthmatic fits.”
    “Has the doctor been sent for?”
    “That old fool? His bleedings and blistering plasters nearly killed Edward.”
    “Have you no other physician treating him? There must be something that can be done.”
    He raked a hand through his hair, standing it on end. “I’ve sent for special doctors from London. I’ve bought special breathing contraptions and restorative elixirs. None of it does any good, and some of these so-called cures have left him a great deal worse. There is nothing for it but to wait it out.” He cast a worried look back at the bed.
    The sight of such concern over his son stirred Livvy’s heart and left her feeling decidedly unsettled. Of course, it was an excellent thing for Lord Sheldon to care for his son, because such tender feelings boded well for his ability to fall in love again. What she didn’t like was her immediate, unfounded surge of jealousy toward the unknown woman who would one day claim his heart.
    You are being ridiculous, she scolded herself. Feeling anything other than casual attraction to the marquess would be the very height of foolishness. He might have stepped out of one of her novels, at least when he kept his mouth shut. She , on the other hand . . . Well, no one would ever mistake Miss Olivia Jane Weston for a heroine.
    No, she would never be a heroine, but she might be able to help Lord Sheldon’s son if she could stop mooning over his father long enough to concentrate on the problem at hand.
    “Do you know the cause of his ailment?” she asked.
    “Anxiety. Excitement. A change in the weather.” He waved his hands in an encompassing gesture. “Any number of seemingly benign events and emotions can trigger it. He can go to bed in fine health and, with no warning, wake an hour or two later struggling to draw breath.”
    “How awful,” Olivia said feelingly.
    “Quite.” The marquess’s tone was clipped. “If you will return to your chamber, I must attend to my son.”
    Olivia brushed past him and headed over to the bed. Perhaps it was having so many younger siblings, or maybe she had been born with more than her fair share of maternal instincts, but a child in distress was not something she could sit back and ignore.
    Lord Sheldon snagged her arm, halting her progress.
    “No. He is shy with strangers and crowding may exacerbate his symptoms.”
    “He is a frightened child who is feeling ill.” She shook off the marquess’s hand and strode to the bed. “Hello, Edward. My name is Olivia, but you may call me Livvy if you like. That’s what Charlotte calls me. I am her cousin, you know.”
    He was a beautiful child. With