“You, too.”
“I was asleep,” he argued.
“I mean proper sleep, in a bed. Have a maid come and change the sheets, and you can sleep in here with me.” She brushed a tear from his cheek, treasuring the rare sign of his emotion. “I want you to.”
“I’ll change the sheets,” he said. “I’ve been doing it.” “The upstairs maids will not be happy if you take over their job. They’ll consider it not your place. Very snobbish are upstairs maids.”
He shook his head. “I never understand anything you say.”
“Then I must truly be better.”
Ian snatched folded linens from a cupboard. In silence he began stripping the sheets from one side of the bed. Beth tried to help, but gave up as soon as she realized she could not even pull up one corner.
Ian deftly unmade one part of the bed and tucked new sheets over it. Then he gently lifted her and laid her on the clean sheets before he repeated his actions with the other side.
“You are quite practiced at this,” she observed as he tucked quilts around her. “Perhaps you could open a school of instruction for upstairs maids.”
“Books.”
She waited, but he only tossed the wadded-up bedding in the hall and closed the door again.
“I beg your pardon?”
“Books on how to care for the sick.”
“You read them, did you?”
“I read everything.” He pulled off his boots and stretched out beside her, his warmth so welcome.
Beth’s thoughts went to when she’d wakened in the night, when Ian had looked straight down into her eyes. His golden gaze had been so anguished, so filled with pain. Now his gaze was evasive again, not letting her catch it. “It’s not fair that you look at me only when I’m extremely ill,” Beth said. “Now that I am fully awake and feeling better, you turn away.”
“Because when I look at you, I forget everything. I lose all track of what I’m saying or doing. I can see only your eyes.” He laid his head on her pillow and rested his hand on her chest. “You have such beautiful eyes.” Her heart beat faster. “And then you flatter me so that I’ll feel awful that I chided you.”
“I’ve never flattered you.”
Beth traced his cheek. “You do know that you are the finest man in the world, don’t you?”
He didn’t answer. His breath was hot on her skin. She was tired, but not so tired that she couldn’t feel an agreeable tightening in the space between her legs.
More memories of the church came back to her, the awful pain and Mrs. Palmer’s desperation, overlaid with the scents of her old life. “She’s dead, isn’t she? Mrs. Palmer, I mean.”
“Yes.”
“She loved him so much, poor woman.”
“She was a murderess and nearly killed you.” “Well, I’m not exactly happy about that. She didn’t kill Sally, you know. Lily did.”
Ian’s gaze flickered. “Don’t talk. You’re too weak.” “I’m right, Ian Mackenzie. Sally threw Lily over and was going to keep all the blackmail money for herself. Lily must have been furious. You said she was hanging about outside the bedroom. While you were off in the parlor, and after Hart left the room, she nipped in, quarreled with Sally, and stabbed her. No wonder Lily agreed to go to that house in Covent Garden and not come out.”
Ian leaned over her. “Right now, I don’t give a damn who killed Sally.”
Beth looked hurt. “But I solved the mystery. Tell Inspector Fellows.”
“Inspector Fellows can rot in hell.”
“Ian.”
“He thinks he’s a bloody good detective. He can find out for himself. You rest.”
“But I feel better.”
Ian glared at her, his eyes still not meeting hers. “I don’t care.”
Beth obediently settled back into the pillows, but she couldn’t resist tracing his cheek. His jaw was dark and sandpaper rough, showing he hadn’t shaved in a while. “How did you find me at the church?” Beth asked. “How did you know?”
“Fellows found someone who heard Mrs. Palmer tell a cabbie to take them to Bethnal Green. Hart knew Mrs. Palmer’s sister lived there. When you weren’t at her house, I decided you’d try to get away from Mrs. Palmer and back to the church that had been your husband’s.” He looked away. “I knew you’d been happy there.”
“How did you even know where it was?”
“I’ve explored all parts of London. I remembered.” Beth leaned into his chest, loving the clean scent of his lawn shirt. “Bless you and your memory, Ian. I’ll never stand amazed at it again.”