Say Yes to the Marquess(40)

“Rafe, look at me.”

And when he did, the fierceness in those bold green eyes nearly knocked her over.

“We’re in this together,” she said. “We’ll do everything we can. We’ll send to London for specialists, if need be. I promise you.” She reached out and squeezed his big hand in both of hers. “This dog isn’t going to die today.”

Twelve hours, three veterinarians, two doctors, and one apothecary later, Clio sat on a chair outside the room dedicated as an infirmary, working a bit of embroidery by the light of a single candle.

The hour was late, and everyone else had gone to bed hours ago. But Rafe remained closed in the room with Ellingworth, and so Clio was still sitting here.

During the course of the day, she’d found a spare hour to bathe and change out of her cake-­smeared clothing. At least the chaos of Ellingworth’s accident had saved her from making explanations for that. All she’d needed to do was raise her hands, and say, “The dog,” and everyone had seemed satisfied.

At last, the door opened. “You’re still here?”

Clio crammed her needlework into the drawer of a nearby table and stood.

Rafe looked so solemn. Unlike Clio, he hadn’t changed—­other than removing his coat, waistcoat, and cravat, then rolling his sleeves to the elbow. His hair stood at wild angles.

She began to fear the worst.

“Well?” she prompted.

“They say he’ll live.”

“Oh.” She released the breath she’d been holding. “That’s good to hear. I’m so relieved. You must be, too.”

“He seems to be sleeping soundly now. The veterinarian will stay with him, so I’m going up to bed.” He turned his head in both directions, then glanced upward, too. “Which way is my bedchamber, again?”

She picked up the candle from the table. “I’ll walk you there.”

He hooked his coat on one finger and slung it over his shoulder. They ambled down the corridor, side by side.

“The good news is, they’ve given him a dose of some purgative. The ring should”—­he cleared his throat—­“appear within a few days.”

Clio shuddered. “I’ll never put that ring on my finger again.”

“Yes, you will. I just told you, the veterinarian says it will only take a few days. That’s good news. You’ll have it back before Piers returns.”

She turned and blinked at him. “Be that as it may, Rafe. I’ll never put that ring on my finger again.”

“We’ll wash it.”

“Not because of where it’s been,” she said. “Well, partly because of where it’s been, but mostly because I’m not going to marry Piers.”

He sighed. “This would never have happened if you’d just tasted the cakes.”

“It would never have happened if you’d respected my wishes and signed the dissolution papers days ago.” Clio took a moment to compose herself. “But let’s not quarrel now. The important thing is, the dog is well.”

“Yes.”

They mounted a flight of stairs. When they reached the top, Rafe spoke to her again, more gently. As if he’d left his impatience and hard feelings at the bottom of the staircase.

“I should thank you for keeping watch with me. Again.”

“Again?”

“I never told you what it meant. Never properly thanked you at all, and that’s my fault. When the marquess died, you were a true help.”

“I didn’t do anything, really.”

“You were there. You made the arrangements for the funeral and answered the calls. You brought that little basket of . . . biscuits or something.”

“Muffins. They were muffins. Your father died, and I brought muffins.” She closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. “I am a muffin. Warm and bland and nice enough, but nothing to get excited about.”

“Nothing to get excited about. Right. That’s you, Clio. Do me a favor, will you? Tell that to my—­”

Her pulse stuttered. She could imagine too many endings to that sentence, some of them lewd and others heart-­wrenching. “To your what?”

“Nothing. Never mind.”

Drat.

“I’m just glad Ellingworth will be well in the end,” she said. “I didn’t realize how much you cared for the poor old dear.”

“I don’t, really. It’s just . . . he’s not mine. He’s Piers’s dog. I can’t let something go wrong on my watch. I’ve had no choice but to take responsibility for the marquessate in his absence. But when my brother comes home, I mean to hand over everything in the same condition I received it. Then I’m done.”