She shuffled back into Sinclair’s bedchamber. “Thompson, I…” She trailed off, not knowing what words should come next.
The footman held his finger to his lips. “I’ll roll him over,” he whispered, “and you tuck in the sheet.”
She complied, and they soon had Sinclair settled with so many pillows propping him he appeared to be sitting up. Thompson gathered up the dirty laundry and headed for the door.
“I’ll be at my post if you need anything.” He winked at her, and left.
Quincy stared at the closed door, speechless.
With one crisis past and another one inevitable, she could think of nothing but how close she’d come to losing Sinclair this night. She began to shake. Before her knees gave out, and before she could think through her actions, she crawled up onto the bed beside Sinclair.
She
