Roses and Flames

Chapter 39

If he touched her, he would kiss her. And if he kissed her…

She stood up and paced to the centre of the room.” I think, for the time being, that we had best not discuss the future, either. And as to what happened, earlier in the day?” She gave a little shake of her head, not wanting to call it for what it was. ”I think it is unwise to continue in such a manner, when things are still so unsettled.”

“We are unsettled again, are we?” He was unsmiling.” Very well, then, Lady Ambrosia. We will wait until the duke is recovering. But he is off a particularly strong constitution despite this illness. It will not be. A day, perhaps. Maybe two. And then you must make a decision.”

“I brought you breakfast.” Ambrosia smiled in at Samuel, who was sitting up in bed, still dazed from sleep. When he understood that it was she, he arranged his bedclothes as modestly as an old maid. Then he gestured that she come nearer.

The poor man. The response in her mind was involuntary and she hurried to quell it. The last thing that he would want at this point was her pretty. Especially if, she suspected, he was gathering strength to minimize his discomfort, so as to not alarm her. His cheeks and neck were grossly swollen, as do somewhat better than they had been. Patrick was right, it would not be long and he would be well again. “How are you feeling today?”

“Wretched”, he said, not even trying to smile.

“Well, I have brought you tea and milk toast. And there is poultice after that.” And she held out the bowl to him and ready the spoon.

He held out his hands for the tray. “Really, Ambrosia. While I appreciate your help, I can still manage to feed myself.” His voice was dropped from the swelling of his throat, the words were still muffled by the difficulty of forming them.

“I see.” She would not be hurt by his tone. After the news he had received yesterday, it was perfectly natural that he would be short tempered. When she had returned to him, after talking with Patrick, he had pretended to be asleep rather than acknowledge her presence. She had sat by him, until his breathing had become more regular, and then the play acted slumber had become real. Then she had continued to sit with him as she had enjoyed the peace. She did not have the energy to argue with Patrick again, nor did she particularly wish to speak with Samuel. It felt good to sit, as the room grew dark, thinking nothing at all.

After, she had crept off to her room, not stopping to talk with Patrick. She had not even summoned her maid, but had pulled off a dress and crawled beneath the covers to fall into a deep and troubled sleep. She had been up at dawn again, to prepare herself for another day of nursing. But it seemed, if the patient could not avoid her by closing his eyes, he meant to bark better until she left. “Of course you can feed yourself.” She said with a smile. “But I do not wish you to tire yourself.”

“Tire myself?” There was a pause that she suspected would have been smothered both from a man less patient than the Duke of Mayberry. “You realize, Ambrosia, that I have little to do all day but to lie in bed, waiting for this complaint to pass.”

“And there is nothing more enervating than doing nothing at all,” she said firmly, thinking of how exhausting it was to sit tightly at his side and not give offense.

“Well, then at least you could do to me is to read from The Times,” he said. “When I am all well again, it will save me time in catching up.”

She adjusted his covers and lead a hand on his swollen cheek. “I do not wish to upset you. I will ask Patrick if it is alright.”

“By all means, ask doctor Hastings.”

For the first time since she had met him, Samuel had used a tone which was positively venomous. Ambrose had to restrain herself from fussing with his covers again, trying to make up for her guilty memories. “He is your physician,” she said as patiently as she could filter, “I would consult about anything that might affect your recovery?”

The Duke sighed. “I am sorry for being cross with you. You have done nothing to deserve it. It is the illness talking. I do not really like idleness.”

 “Really?” She smiled into her hand. “I had not noticed.”

 “And it bothers me to be dependent on Hastings.”

“ We could get another doctor, if that is a problem.” Her father would welcome a chance to get Patrick out of the house. And until she could find a way to break with Samuel, it might be for the best not to have temptation continually in her path.

The Duke shook his head. “I cannot very well sending him away, after making such a show off asking specifically for his helpful stuff he has made it plain that he does not want to associate with me. I am sure he cannot like the position I have forced him into. Much as I would wish to know him better, this situation is not making it easier on the either of us.” But he looked quite morosely at the thought of giving him up.

“He is a very independent man.”

“It is a family trait,” the Duke agreed.

And so was this sense of noble self sacrifice. Stubbornness as well, although she could not tell that to either man. “Given time, you will not be resisting him any longer. I am sure that he is pleased to have found his roots, after all this time.” Secretly pleased, perhaps. He had not said any such thing to her. It was strange that she could not be sure of his feelings. Though they had shared every secret in their young lives, he was hiding things from her now. It did not bode well for their future.

“I must trust your judgment, I suppose,” Samuel said, with another sigh. “You know him better than I.”

Now she was blushing. And she suspected that he had noticed it. “Do you wish for anything more?”

She reached for the covers once again and then stopped herself. There was a limit to the time that she could spend smoothing a single sheet. “Should I build up the fire?”

“Let it die down,” he said. “It is too warm up in here already. I am not chilled and you are becoming quite flushed.” His voice was all sympathy, providing this easy line to cover her reactions. It was just like him, worrying about another. It made her wish that she felt anything more than a wave of fondness to be treated so.

“Very well, then. As long as you are comfortable. Please, enjoy your breakfast. How much pleasure could he get from it,” she did not know. It was bland and flavorless as her love for him, but he seemed to like that well enough.

“You need not remain, if you don’t wish to.” He added, picking up a spoon and managing us small bite. But she thought he looked rather depressed at the thought of being alone again.

For a moment, she almost forgot her resolve previous evening and blurted the truth. I cannot say. I am not worthy of your affection. And I do not love you back. But with his recovery just beginning, she did not want to do anything that might upset or weekend him.

“It is alright,” she said. “I will stay as long as you need me.”

 He looked up at her and smiled. “Whatever would I do without you?”

 And the thought that he described even though her heart felt nothing but a combination of grit guilt and grim determination, she smiled back. Then she opened the book she had brought to entertain him and started to read. When he began to doze, she marked the police and said the book at bedside for later, she then she starts staring down at the sleeping man. Even with a swollen jaw, he was handsome. And today was the first time she had heard crossword from him. Considering the circumstances, it was not surprising. Even a saint might be crossed, when ill and seized with the news that Patrick had given him.

The Saint. His nickname suited him. He was not just to do, he was a good man. He did not deserve this illness at all, or the possible consequences from it. Nor did he deserve to be shunned by his brother. At least, issue here, he might never be alone again. What would he do without her? It was just one more thing he never needed to find out. When Ambrose returned from the Duke’s room it was nearly lunch time. Patrick considered a second examination, but as if she could read his mind, Ambrose gave a single shake of his head.

“He is sleeping again. And he did not need drugs for it. His forehead feels cooler and the swelling is coming down. He was able to manage his breakfast and nearly cleared the tray. All he needs right now is rest.”

 Patrick nodded. “Your diagnosis is as good as mine, I suppose. If the symptoms are beating, I doubt I will need to bleed him. We will see what the day brings.”

 He risked an encouraging smile. If the Duke was on the mend, they might soon settle things between them. Although he they are not risk taking her back to bed, they might talk quietly for awhile. He had not seen her since their argument yesterday pulls up she would forgive him, if they could only be together. They had known each other for a lifetime and had loved almost that long. A week of disagreement would not seperate them. Like now she paused in the doorway, neither advancing or retreating. She just stood and watched him, without returning his smile. He gestured to the chair opposite him. “There is not any reason why you cannot rest as well. He will be fine without you for a few hours. And you must take a bit of lunch closed up your breakfast tray was untouched when Mrs Abbott came for it.”

“I was not hungry,” she said, still not moving.

“You are not taking ill, I hope,” he said, half joking. “If we are not careful, I will have to treat you as well.”

“No!” Her reaction was extreme and unexpected. She sounded almost as if she feared his touch. He remembered how it had been for him, when he had wanted her unknown it was impossible. The sight of her and agony and the attach was cruel promise of a thing he would never have. “I take it you have been thinking about what you must tell the Duke.”

“I do not wish him to suffer more than he already has.”

“The Duke, suffer?” Patrick could not help the laugh. “He is already healing. Two or three days of discomfort does not equate the suffering first things so, then he does not know the meaning of the word.”

“You are being unfair to him,” Ambrose said. She seemed to think he was cruel and not stating an obvious fact.

“You said yourself that he’s better today.”

“But we will not know for some time if he will fully recover,” she said, still keeping her distance from him.

“Do you plan to remain silent until then? And I suppose that I am just to wait.” Patrick gave an incredulous laugh. “I wish you so showed the same concern for my suffering As for his.”

“Six years passed with barely a word from you,” she said, shaking her head. “And now any delays at trial?”