“I want to bathe,” he said wearily. “I want to shave. I want to wash my blasted hair. I feel like something one scrapes off the bottom of one’s shoe.”
“I know.” Her irritation vanished in sympathy, and she went to kneel by his side. “Does your head hurt?”
His only answer was a snort. Laura slid her hands gently into his hair and began to rub his scalp with her fingertips. It was something she had done many times when he was frowning in pain, and it had seemed to ease him. From the soft noise he made, she thought it did now, as well.
After a moment, he said in a low voice, “I’m sorry for snapping at you. I’m a dreadful ingrate.”
“Are you?” she said mildly. “I wouldn’t have said that. A terrible patient, perhaps, who will not do as he’s told.”
“Very well. I’m a terrible patient. I will admit to anything as long you keep doing that.”
“Your headache is better?” But she knew the answer; she could see the lines of his face smoothing out.
He nodded. “Laura . . .”
“Yes?”
“I’m no good at this.”
“At what? Being sick?”
“No. Well, I’m not good at that, either, apparently. But what I meant . . . what I’m trying to say is . . . thank you.”
A pale flush started along the sharp edge of his cheekbones, and Laura realized he was embarrassed.
“You’re welcome.”
After a moment, he murmured, “I hate being weak. I hate them knowing I’m helpless.”
“Then I would say you shouldn’t go downstairs and risk falling down in a faint in front of them.”
“True. That thought doesn’t appeal.” He sighed. “You’re right. Of course. But I feel so useless.”
“The most useful thing you can do is get stronger. Get well.”
“I can’t make that happen,” he said irritably.
“No, but you can allow it. You can lie here and sleep, give your body time to heal itself. You can eat.”
“You mean drink that blasted milk you want to pour down my throat.”
“Among other things. It would be better if you stayed in bed . . . if the others didn’t know you were improving yet.”
He cocked an eyebrow at her. “Meaning that if they think I’m dying they won’t decide it’s necessary to come in and smother me in my sleep?”
“Well, yes.”
He studied her for a moment, then said, “Very well. I shall do as you wish . . . on one condition.”
“What?”
“You needn’t look so suspicious.” He stood up. “Well, actually, two. One, I get clean.”
Laura nodded. “I’ll send Owen in to help you.”
“And two, you will rest, as well.”
“Me? I don’t need to rest.”
“You do. You have done nothing but look after me for I don’t know how many days now. You need a change of scenery. Walk around the gardens. Go downstairs and have breakfast.”
“With your family?”
“They may be murderers, but they’ll take your mind off the sickroom.”
“James!”
“No arguments. We have an agreement.”
“I didn’t agree to anything.”
“You will. The only question is whether you say yes now or we stand here arguing about it until I fall into a swoon at your feet.”
“Oh, very well,” Laura said in exasperation, taking his arm and propelling him toward the bed. He went easily enough, and it seemed to Laura that his walk was already a little steadier, his color better. No doubt winning an argument raised his spirits. “But what if something happens to you while I’m gone?”
“Dem is ample protection. Owen can sit in here if it eases your mind. You’ve left me in his hands a few times.”
He was right, she knew. A change of scenery would do her good. And, little as the prospect of dining with his relatives pleased her, she might be able to learn something useful. So once James was settled and had taken his medicine, she left him in the care of Owen and Demosthenes and made her way downstairs to the dining room. It was late enough that Tessa and the other ladies of the household were there, along with Walter and Tessa’s admirer, Mr. Netherly.
Laura greeted the women, ignoring the glare Patricia sent her. At least Archie Salstone was missing, for which Laura was grateful. She gave them all a polite smile, reminding herself that she must treat them as she would have a week ago, as if she hadn’t discovered that someone wanted to kill James. “Walter. How are you? Mr. Netherly. I hope you are doing well. I didn’t realize you were still here.” She did not add that a man of any sensitivity would have left days ago.