Chapter Six
Molly had been good to her word and provided him with clothes. Woolen pants and a plain white linen shirt. She’d plopped them on the bottom of his bed then left without a word. Almost daring him to try and dress himself.
Sighing heavily, He pushed the blankets back and used his good arm to retrieve the clothes. Even that little effort left him breathless and cringing with pain. This was going to be difficult he realized as he shot the door a quick look.
No, he must do this himself. A man who couldn’t dress himself was worse than useless.
Gritting his teeth, he worked his way to the edge of the bed and let his legs slide over the side. The room had grown very warm and a bead of sweat had broken out on his forehead to run down the side of his nose.
Growling to himself at his own weakness, He used his good arm to position the injured one inside a sleeve. Then slowly worked the shirt up onto his shoulders.
When he was done, he rested, his chin on his chest while he tried to recover what little strength he had left. At last, he took a deep breath and bent forward to try and slip his pants onto his injured leg.
He missed completely and he cursed under his breath. This was ridiculous. Why did British fashion have to be so difficult? A robe or toga would have been so much easier. Sighing, he tried again, managing to get one foot into a pant leg. Then the other. Wiggling back and forth, he worked to get them up over his hips, then sank back onto the bed exhausted.
He lay there staring up at the ceiling. This would not be allowed to continue, he thought. Under no circumstances would he allow himself to become crippled or a burden. No.
Once he had regained some control of his racing heart, he forced himself back up, gently placing both feet on the floor. Using the bedpost, he slowly worked himself up to standing next to the bed. A joyous feeling of accomplishment washed through him when he didn’t immediately fall flat on his face.
His knees wobbled, and the room spun, but he was up. For the first time in almost two weeks, he felt like a whole human again.
“What are you doing?” Amanda demanded from the doorway. He had been so focused on standing up he hadn’t even noticed her come in.
“Learning to waltz,” he said as he tried to take a step forward. “It is a new dance. The King’s German Legion introduced it a few years ago.”
She rolled her eyes at him and hurried across the room to stand next to him. Both hands out ready to catch him if he fell.
“I know what a waltz is. And you will not be dancing any times soon,” she said.
“Actually, I have three days to prepare,” he said as he dragged his injured leg forward.
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
He took another step when his hip gave way and he collapsed into her arms. Grunting, she caught him and half carried him back to the bed.
“I do apologize,” he said as he felt his cheeks grow warm with embarrassment. He couldn’t even take a step without this woman being there to save him.
“You are pushing things too quickly. You need to give your body time to recover. What the wounds did not take from you, the infection did.”
He grimaced as he closed his eyes. For the first time in his life, his body refused to do what it was supposed to. He had always known that his physical abilities. His strength, his speed, had been the one thing he could rely on. Now, here in this bed, he was a hopeless mess.
“Why three days?” Amanda asked as she helped him swing his legs back onto the bed.
“Lord Hicks‘s ball.”
Amanda stepped back and frowned at him. Her confusion very obvious.
He sighed, it couldn’t be avoided. He had already told her too much. A little more wouldn’t hurt. “He is one of the men I suspect,” he said. “I had hoped to get a chance to examine his office. The ball was the perfect opportunity. My source believed there was incriminating evidence from the man’s office.”
Amanda scoffed and shook her head. “Well, that won’t be happening. You’ll have to try another time. It is not like he is going anywhere.”
Lord Warwick set his chin as he pulled himself up to a sitting position. “Every day I delay might mean more men dying on the battlefield. So actually, time is of the essence.”
Her face blanched as she stepped back. Obviously, his words had touched something inside of her. Suddenly, she is beginning to see the reality of the situation, he thought. This was no longer an abstract puzzle.”
She studied him for a moment, her head tilting just slightly to the side in that way he found so becoming. Biting her lip, she thought for a moment then said, “Perhaps I could do it.”
The words washed over him without meaning. He had to circle back and repeat them in his head to ensure he had heard correctly.
“You?”
She frowned at him. “Of course. Why not me. Because I am a woman? I assure you, we learn very young how to detect falsehoods.”
He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Miss Amanda Waters becoming involved in this. No, under no circumstances would he allow that to happen. The concept of his two worlds mixing sent a cold chill down his back.
He looked at her and his heart hitched for a second. The woman looked so hopeful, but she was being ridiculous.
“No, Amanda,” he said. “I think not.”
She continued to frown at him, crossing her arms over her stomach. She was upset with him, he realized. On many different levels. But he could not allow her to risk herself.
After a long moment, she sighed heavily then moved to the window to pull the curtains back.
“You need some sunshine,” she said. “Let’s get you over here by the window and I will play you a game of chess.”
Lord Warwick froze for a second. That had been quite a shift. One moment they were arguing about her catching a French spy. The next, a game of chess.
Slipping his good arm over her shoulder, she helped him across the room. The feel of her hip next to his. The scent of her lavender and rose perfume. The swell of her soft breast pressing into his side, all of it made him forget about the pain in his body. Instead, all he could think of was what it would be like to hold this woman through the night.
Once she had him situated at a side table, he leaned back and let the sun wash over him. Yes, she was right, this was what he needed.
When she returned a moment later with a wooden box and chess board, she began to set them up on the table.
“I assume you are a good player,” she said as she laid out his pieces for him. “I have been wanting to play with you.”
Suddenly, her cheeks grew pink and he smiled to himself. It seemed that his angel had wicked thoughts as well. Who would have ever guessed?
As they played, he quickly discovered that she was quite good. Perhaps his match. Frowning to himself when he found himself several pieces down, he focused on the board.
“You play very well,” he said.
“You say that as if you are surprised,” she replied. Giving him a quick frown that let him know she was disappointed in him.
He laughed, “More because of your young age, not your sex, I assure you.”
She frowned at him, but then quickly returned to studying the board. “I am twenty,” she said. “Almost on the shelf. I believe I am long past being young.”
He laughed but did not comment.
The game continued, both of them evenly matched. Lord Warwick felt his leg begin to stiffen and decided to stand up and stretch it out. Grabbing the chair arms, he lifted himself up into a standing position.
Amanda watched him until she was sure he was all right, then returned to the game. He smiled slightly, his body was getting better. The pain was manageable and his muscles were beginning to work again.
Twisting to take a few steps, his hip refused to work and collapsed like a house of cards. His arm shot out to catch himself, but instead, he caught the chess board, sending pieces flying in every direction.
Amanda jumped up, catching him and guiding his fall into the chair.
His world crumbled around him. He couldn’t even walk without destroying everything around himself. The game was ruined, only a rook lay on its side, rolling back and forth.
“I am sorry,” he said, “And the game was so interesting. I assure you, it was not a way of avoiding defeat. I might actually have been able to win.”
Her brow furrowed for a second as if she didn’t understand what he was saying.
“No bother,” she said as she started to arrange the pieces on the board.
He frowned as he watched her set each piece back onto the board. But not into a starting position. No, she was placing them where they had been located only moments ago. She even lined up the captured pieces in the same order that he had taken them.
“You know where each piece goes?” he asked with disbelief.
She frowned at him. “Don’t you?”
He shook his head, “Why do I suspect that if necessary, you could recreate every move for the entire game.”
She continued to frown, “But of course.”
He laughed, “Miss Waters, you are truly remarkable.”
She smiled at him, “You are just now discovering this?”
He laughed with her. It felt good to share this moment. Suddenly, he changed his word for her. Remarkable. So much more accurate than merely competent.