“Don’t be hard on yourself; it has been a long day,” Bella said. “Before you came in we were discussing how one moment everything is fine in one’s life, and then it changes without warning. It leaves us sitting around, waiting, wondering, knowing nothing we do will change anything. Being useless is not something any of us do well. We want to know we’re needed. Unfortunately, in this case, we wait and pray he wakes up fever-free, pain-free, and infection-free.” She sucked in air and sighed deeply. “Bloody hell, I hate this.”
“Bella,” Amelia gasped, “such language coming from you. In front of mixed company, no less.”
“Don’t mind us. We’ve heard worse.” Amesbury chuckled. “In fact, your brother has the foulest mouth of any gentleman I know.”
“Really?” Bella asked, leaning forward. “Do tell some of his favorites so I can use them to blackmail him if he tries to marry me off to someone I despise.”
“I don’t think you have to worry about that.” Myles grinned. “Your brother has admitted to me that he hopes you will marry for love.”
Bella beamed. “Marry for love… Since when did he become such a romantic?”
Myles glanced directly at Emma. His eyes softened. “Since he himself fell in love.”
Is it true? Had Thomas admitted to Myles that he loved her? Emma’s heart pounded with elation. And how could Bella and Myles carry on a conversation about Bella marrying someone for love when they both knew Bella loved Myles?
“I don’t believe he confided his feelings for me to you,” Emma spoke up. “Do not you gentlemen guard your true feelings like the royal guards guard the Crown Jewels?”
That had Myles smiling. “Yes, well, it is true we don’t like to discuss certain, ahh . . . personal . . . things. But the three of us have been together since our first days at Eton, and sometimes even men need to talk.” Myles raked his hands through his hair. “I can’t honestly remember if he said anything about love, except any fool can see he loves you deeply. All one has to do is look at his eyes when he is looking at you. It is there as plain as tea leaves in a pot of tea.”
“Thank you for your honesty,” Emma said as she sipped her warm tea. “Please, will all of you excuse me?”
She rose and took her leave, meandering up the stairs and down the hall to her husband’s bedchamber. Pausing outside the closed door, she let her heart fly with elation over the possibility that her husband did indeed love her. Perhaps one day soon he would tell her. And then she could shower him with her love in return.
Before that time could come, however, they had to get through the next few days. Emma wrung her hands and steeled herself to be strong for him. He needed her now, and she would not disappoint him.
Upon her approach to his bedside, nothing seemed to have changed. Her husband still slept on his back, the covers drawn up to his chest and his breathing still slow and steady as before. A deep relief washed through her body. His coloring was pale, not tinged pink with fever.
“Your Grace.” Emma placed her hand lightly on the duchess’s shoulder. “You should retire for the evening. You must be exhausted. It was a long and tiring day. I will stay with my husband for the duration of the night.”
Her mother-in-law patted the hand that still rested on her shoulder. The contact warmed Emma.
“Thank you, my dear. My son has chosen well. In one day you have already made me proud to call you my daughter-in-law. I leave him in your capable hands.” She rose, took her son’s limp hand in hers, and held on, eyes closed. Sadness and worry were living, breathing things that spread out from her mother-in-law and encompassed Emma and Thomas.
After the dowager duchess left the room, Emma shivered, wrapped her arms around herself, and hugged tightly. She pulled the sheet down low on Thomas’s waist, careful not to expose his manhood. Even so, her cheeks heated at his nakedness. His chest was large, muscular, and sprinkled with light brown hair. A bandage covered most of his belly and extended far beneath the sheet.
Emma was curious about her husband’s body. All she had to do was peek under the sheet and look her fill. Emma was tempted to look while he was unconscious, as she had never seen male parts before. Now that she had married Thomas she was even more tempted.
When she went to examine his bandages, her hands trembled and tears blurred her vision. She needed to pause and take a deep breath to steady herself. It didn’t work. All Emma could do was stare at her new husband and pray that he recovered.
“Please, God, let the surgery have worked. I will do anything. I have fallen in love with him. Please . . . please . . . I can’t live without him.” Her knees gave way and she leaned against the side of his bed. It was quite some time before she was composed enough to continue her examination of his bandages.