A Taste of Desire(75)
Without removing his gaze from her face, he said, “So I see.”
“Did the doctor give her anything for the fever?” he asked after a long pause.
“‘e left laudanum pour the belly pains.” The maid continued to stare up at him, her expression quizzical and expectant.
He nodded slowly. He’d come to ensure she was resting comfortably, and from his observation she was. He should leave, yet his feet refused to obey his silent command.
“Then I shall leave you to tend to her.” Still he didn’t budge as he followed the rise and fall of her chest comprising her shallow breathing. “Notify me immediately if she worsens—am I understood?”
The maid responded to the hard note in his tone and his sharp look with two rigorous nods.
Thomas gave Amelia’s sleeping form one final glance before taking his leave.
Chapter 19
Thomas found Cartwright in the library, sitting in one of the armchairs, forearms braced on his thighs. He’d since changed from his riding clothes and the dampness of his hair indicated he’d taken the advised bath.
Cartwright shot to his feet upon Thomas’s entrance. “How is she? What did the physician say?”
Instead of offering an immediate response, Thomas strode over to the sideboard and poured himself a dram of rum, heedless that the appropriate drinking time still loomed hours away. As irrational as his feelings were, he hadn’t liked it one bit to see Amelia in Cartwright’s arms or his friend in the intimacy of her bedchamber. He sensed a familiarity there that the brevity of their association could not justify.
Throwing his head back, Thomas drained the contents of the glass in one burning swallow.
Cartwright sidestepped the center table and made his way to the edge of the rug spread beneath the sitting area. After waiting in silence, no doubt expectant of a reply, he flicked a glance at the door. “Am I permitted to see her? Miss Foxworth has also expressed great concern regarding her condition. I assured her I would keep her apprised.”
He would keep her apprised? The bloody gall! Thomas dropped the glass back onto the sideboard with such force it was surprising the glass hadn’t shattered as his composure was perilously close to doing.
Cartwright’s eyebrow slowly rose as he folded his arms across his chest.
“She’s asleep,” Thomas replied curtly. “Dr. Lawson says it’s nothing more than a stomach ailment which should clear up in a few days.”
“I see.” Cartwright dragged out the latter word as if he saw too damn much. “And I suppose you’re going to tell me what the devil is wrong with you? You’re carrying on as if I intend to ravish the girl. Give me some credit for possessing some kind of tact. If that’s what I had in mind, I’d at least wait until she wasn’t burning up with a fever.”
“I’m glad you can joke at a time like this.” Of late, Thomas found very little amusing about his friend’s sense of humor.
“Do I appear to be amused? I assure you, I’m perfectly serious.” Cartwright said, his countenance lacking his trademark dry half smile.
Some emotion in him—one Thomas dare not identify—bubbled to the surface in molten fury. “You will leave her the hell alone, is that understood? She’s not to be trifled with. She is my concern, and I will deal with her.”
“I thought you could barely tolerate her. I’d think you’d be relieved to have me take her off your hands for any amount of time.”
A slew of curse words sprang instantly to his lips, but Thomas bit them back with a violent oath. “Go to bloody hell.”
“Why, in need of company?” came Cartwright’s rapid-fire response, his mouth quirking at the corners in a manner that had Thomas glancing around for something to bludgeon him with.
He eyed the thick crystal decanter of brandy. How unfortunate it was one of his mother’s favorite pieces. He had to content himself with silently counting to ten as he fought to retain the last vestiges of his control. “I’m glad you continue to find humor in this situation.”
“Lady Amelia ailing I don’t find the slightest bit amusing. You, however …” Cartwright’s voice trailed off as if he needn’t say more, his omission an indictment of Thomas. “And truly, Armstrong, this cavemanlike behavior toward a girl you claim no fondness for.”
Neatly boxed and gift-wrapped, his friend placed the argument before him tied with a bow. Juxtaposed, even Thomas could see his words and recent actions lay in sharp and damning contrast.