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

She laid aside the newspaper, forcing her lips into a tight smile. Oh, how she longed for him to turn away, so she might pinch a blush to her cheeks. Maybe she could manage the appearance of better health, if not the corresponding strength.

But she could tell, Toby was having none of it. “How pale you are,” he said, placing his parcel on the table and sinking onto the divan next to her. He made an impetuous motion as though he would embrace her, then seemed to think better of it. Bel didn’t know whether to be grateful or disappointed.

He asked, “Do you know how sick I’ve been with worry? I’ve come by the house every day, you know. Why wouldn’t you allow me to see you?”

Warm brown eyes scanned her appearance. Bel felt his gaze catching on the dark circles beneath her eyes, the sallow tone of her cheeks, the dull texture of her hair. She must be hideous, and of course he looked as suave and handsome as ever.

“How could I have allowed you? It isn’t proper.” She fidgeted with the handkerchief in her lap, picking at the tatted edge. It wasn’t quite a lie; just an incomplete truth. She couldn’t very well tell him honestly, I couldn’t let you see me until I felt completely assured of my sanity. She’d spent days floating in and out of feverish dreams, terrified that, like her mother, she would never fully return from them. Even once the fever left her, she’d lain awake in bed all night, scouring the darkest corners of her mind for any flitting moths of madness.

“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.”