A Lady of Persuasion (The Wanton Dairymaid Trilogy #3)(29)

“If you’d visited, it would only have caused you distress,” she said feebly. “Even now, I must look so ill.” She put one hand to her temple, shielding her face.

He ducked, peering under it. “Isabel, listen to me. We are to be married in a couple of weeks. I’m going to stand before all London, the Holy Trinity, and even those two boorish brothers of yours and pledge you my undying fidelity and protection. In sickness and in health.” He pulled her hand away from her face, folding his fingers around hers. “And with God as my witness, I will vow to you right now—you are the most beautiful sight I’ve beheld in ten days.”

She couldn’t decide whether he was teasing her or deceiving her. But then, she didn’t really want to know. “I’ve missed you,” she said quietly. That was the simple truth.

“I’m glad of it.” He smiled. “Miss Osborne tells me you’ve made nearly a full recovery.”

“Yes, my fever is completely gone. I’m just a bit weak yet.”

“But you’re not taking enough food, she says.”

“It’s … it’s still painful to eat,” she said. “My throat…” She feigned a little cough, in lieu of completing the sentence.

“Isabel, you must make an effort to regain your strength. I’ve just spoken to your brother. He’s suggesting we postpone the wedding.”

“Oh, he mustn’t! I won’t let him.” Bel gripped his hand. “I’m feeling much improved already.”

This, too, was the truth. Perhaps she had been wrong to keep him away so long. There was something about the way he looked at her, with that shadow of a smile in his eyes, that made her feel restored. His teasing infuriated her at times, but she was beginning to understand it as a strange sort of compliment to her character. While bullies teased to belittle and hurt, Toby’s good-natured jibes had quite the opposite effect. He teased not out of malice, but because he believed she was strong enough to bear it.

And thus far, he had always been right.

She gave his fingers a little squeeze. “The wedding must go on as planned.”

Relief was plain in the relaxation of his shoulders. He added his free hand to the tangle of their fingers, surrounding hers with his strong, warm touch. “Good. To that end, I’ve brought you some medicine.” Releasing her, he reached for the parcel he’d brought.

“Medicine? But Miss Osborne has already dosed me with—”

“This is a different sort of medicine. One you’re sure to enjoy.” A sly gleam stole into his eyes as he opened the package and withdrew a chilled glass dish mounded with a nut-brown ice.

“The flavor is chocolate. Blended with hazelnut and, I’m told, a hint of cinnamon.”

“Toby, really …”

“I insist.” He pressed a spoon into her hand. “If it pains you to eat solid food, you must take what you can. An ice is the perfect remedy for a sore throat. The coolness is a balm; the sweetness is a restorative.” He gave her a wicked smile. “And everyone knows chocolate to be invigorating.”

Bel could already feel her resistance melting. The glistening ice looked so cool, so inviting. Her raw throat worked as she imagined taking just one spoonful of chilled, soothing sweetness.

“I… I couldn’t possibly.”

“Is it the sugar that concerns you?”

She nodded, hoping he would take pity on her conscience and quickly pack the dish away. He pressed it closer, taking the spoon from her hand and scooping up a bite of the ice. “Isabel, don’t be concerned. I ordered this ice specially made for you. It’s sweetened with honey.”

“Honey?”

“Yes, pure English honey, collected from very contented bees. I interviewed the beekeeper myself, and he assured me the drones were treated most fairly, paid an honest wage, and given the Sabbath to rest. And now that they’ve done their service, I’ve arranged for the whole hive to be pensioned off to a charming little beech grove in Shropshire, right next to a meadow abundant with clover. So you see,” he said, moving the spoon toward her lips, “you may partake of this ice in good conscience.”

Bel giggled. For heaven’s sake, she never giggled. With those smooth arguments and that persuasive grin, he was bound to be a terrific success in Parliament. “You are teasing me. Most shamelessly.”

“Yes. And you’re enjoying it.” Leaning closer, he lifted the spoon to her mouth. “Really, Isabel. You must eat. You must get well, if we are to marry as planned, and …” His voice took on a sudden, thrilling intensity. “And I don’t wish to delay.”

She closed her eyes. If she were truly strong, she would find it in herself to push the temptation away. But she was ill and weak, and though she knew in her conscience she shouldn’t give in

…

She did.

Her lips closed around the chilled spoon, and she drew on it with light suction, pulling the frozen confection into her mouth.

Oh.

Oh, paradise.

At first, the cold burned her lips and tongue, and the ice crystals abraded her palate like small slivers of glass. But then the sharp edges melted to cream, and each tiny excoriation was now soothed, with exquisite coolness and a dark, bittersweet spice.

Swallowing, she opened her eyes to find him offering her a second spoonful. This bite she accepted with eyes wide open, held rapt by his warm, amber-flecked gaze as the oscillation of sharp pain and rich pleasure teased her senses again.