Miss Grey stood quickly. “Of course.”
She turned to leave the room through the panel in the wall, but before she disappeared, he called out to her. “You’ve forgot the cup.” Brody picked it up off the floor, and held it out for her.
She shook her head in the shadows. “Never mind that. I’ll bring you a clean one.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. That’s twice the work for you,” he said. “Come on. I won’t try to look at you, if that’s what you’re worried about. I give you my word.”
“All the same, I’d rather bring another glass up from the kitchens…”
“Are you afraid to come near me?”
There was a pause. “No.”
Brody flopped back down onto the sofa, letting the glass fall to the carpet at his feet. “Liar.”
Miss Grey had lied about a great many things, but at least she took her friends with her. The drawing room was quiet now, save the pounding rain on the windows, and the ticking of the clock on the mantel. He didn’t hear the whispers anymore, or the scratching in the walls.
Yes, Miss Grey’s army of shadows knew better than to take him on. Even in his sorry state, he could beat them—just like he’d beaten back the Jerries all those years ago. Brody didn’t like to brag about taking lives, but, if those shadowy bastards returned, he’d let them all know he wasn’t afraid. He’d kill every last one for embarrassing him in front of Miss Grey.
***
Angelica’s hands shook as she filled the fresh glass. She wasn’t afraid of Captain Neill, though his outburst had frightened her. The truth was that she would’ve had to search for the glass in his hand, and could not have explained that clumsiness without giving herself away.
She wanted to preserve their equal footing for a little while longer—especially if he was starting to hallucinate. A madman could take advantage of her weakness. But, more importantly, if he knew she couldn’t see what he saw, she could never calm his fears. He needed her to be strong. He needed her to be whole.
Angelica didn’t much care about being whole, but she wanted to be strong for him. She so rarely got a chance to be useful to another person. All her life, she had been the one in need. She had been the one to inconvenience people, the one requiring extra time and special assistance.
Now, as a woman capable of taking care of herself, she craved the opportunity to make a difference in someone else’s life. So far, Captain Neill was the only other person she’d had the good fortune to come across. And, by some miracle, he needed her.
She stilled her hands from trembling, and carried the glass of water upstairs. As she pushed through the panel in the drawing room wall, Angelica found her charge sitting upright and waiting for her. She knew he sat up because his voice was firm and clear, not husky or muffled by his weight on his back
“Here,” she said, holding the water out to him. She hoped he wouldn’t make things difficult. Thankfully, he took it from her hand, and guzzled it down without giving her awkward behavior another thought. After a moment, she cleared her voice and added, “You were able to keep it down this time. Hopefully, your nausea has passed.”
“It will return.”
“Really? I hope you didn’t hit your head in the crash. My brother, Freddie, once fell off his pony and knocked himself senseless. He was very ill, afterward. The doctor said that nausea often follows a dangerous head injury. We had to sit up with poor Freddie all night. I would hate it if that’s what happened to you.”
He almost laughed. “Head injury is the least of my problems.”
“Don’t be grim, Captain Neill.”
“Then don’t try to nanny me, Miss Grey. I know the difference between a concussion and—”
He stopped himself short. Angelica sat forward, straining for whatever it was he’d almost confessed. “…And what?”
“I have a sickness.” His voice sounded wrung-out, like he’d had to drag the words from his throat. “It isn’t catching, but I understand if you prefer to keep your distance. I’m not much to look at, and probably hell on the nose.”
She sniffed. “You could do with a bath.”
“I know. When I’m suffering from my sickness, I tend to perspire. And vomit. And a host of other unpleasant symptoms. It makes me tired and irritable, and perhaps a little paranoid. The thought of stripping out of my clothes and having a long, hot soak is repugnant to me. Therefore…”
“Therefore, you stink.”
This time, he did laugh. Not a wheeze, or a snort, but a full-bellied laugh that echoed off the drawing room walls. It took Angelica—and even himself—by surprise.
“You’re a very straightforward sort of girl, Miss Grey,” he said. “Not afraid to tell it like it is.”
“I doubt flattery will get you into the bathtub, Captain Neill.”