Dahlia blushed, looking down at her ridiculous outfit. “The butler gave them—”
The other woman tsked. “Today was the groom’s laundry day. They were likely drying in the kitchen. I wonder why he didn’t he just ask me?” She crossed the room, giving Dahlia a wide smile. “I’m Agnes.”
“Dahlia.” She smiled back. “I’m sure he was just trying to give me the first dry clothing he could find.”
Agnes shrugged. “Men, always so practical, in their own heads at any rate.” Then she laid the dress on the bed and crossed to set the tray on the vanity. “Now, let’s get you put back together, shall we? The doctor will be here any minute and I’m sure you’ll want to speak with him.”
Dahlia nodded with appreciation. “That would be lovely.”
She very much wanted to speak with the doctor. Her brother’s future, and her own, might very well depend on his words.
Gavin sat in a chair in his study, rubbing his eyes with one hand. The doctor had confirmed that Sam had likely chipped a bone or two. The cut wasn’t too deep, but infection was always a risk. Dr. Grayson had given Dahlia plenty of assurances, but the truth had been in the worried set of his mouth. There were no guarantees with injuries like these. Of course, Dr. Grayson had also acknowledged that Gavin’s quick action increased his chance of survival. Gavin was grateful for the compliment. Losing his wife might have some measure of comfort if he knew who was helping other people.
Which led him to the next person who might need aid. Gavin had to decide what he might do with Dahlia should her brother perish. The truth of the matter was that she could not stay here. Not only was he an inappropriate chaperone for such an innocent woman, she was far too tempting and he was much too desperate.
Honestly, he should likely take himself to the nearest house of ill repute just to set his mind right again. His stomach pitched at the idea.
He’d spent half the night worried sick and the other trying to push away inappropriate thoughts of dark hair spilling across his pillows.
He let out another low groan and pushed himself out of his chair. He should just go to bed. At the very least, he could take matters into his own hand, as it were. His mouth twisted down. No, that was not the answer. He wanted, yearned for, heat and softness. He craved the sweet breath of a woman in his ear, her arms wrapped about his neck. Everything in him clenched. It was a familiar fantasy he’d been having more and more often. He was lonely. He knew that.
But he also knew he wanted an interaction deeper than a single night, though he hated the idea as well. Somehow, touching any woman seemed like a betrayal, but to really connect with another female…that felt just wrong.
He knew one thing for certain. With Dahlia here and her brother ill, he couldn’t host the party he’d intended. He’d have to cancel.
But tonight, form and substance had changed the shape of his fantasy. It wasn’t a faceless woman now but a very specific one. Dahlia. Her plump lips pressed to his lobe, murmuring his name with a groan of pleasure.
He slid his hand down and palmed her full breast, her nipple cresting against his rough skin. His shaft stiffened, pulling against his pants. He wanted her.
Wrenching open the door, he headed down the hall and up the stairs. He needed sleep. Tomorrow, he’d decide how best to handle his tempting house guest.
Perhaps he could send her to live with his married cousin, Lord Wesley Preston and his new wife. Gavin had managed Wes’s lands while Wes had pulled himself back together. Wes had suffered from a drinking problem that had developed as his financial situation grew worse and worse. Gavin had been happy to help his family and the challenge had been a welcome distraction as he’d mourned the loss of his wife.
Making his way up the stairs, he heard a soft noise come from Sam’s room. Drawing closer, the door was opened a crack. He peaked inside. Dahlia sat next to her sleeping brother, gently brushing back his hair as she sang a lullaby.
Sam had been given laudanum by the doctor and wasn’t likely to wake, but still she sang softly, sweetly, her fingers tracing his hairline.
Gavin wanted someone to touch him that way. He’d sworn he wouldn’t open himself up to others again, but holed in this house, he’d forgotten what a woman’s touch could do for a man’s soul. He gripped the doorknob. He couldn’t allow this sweet picture to make him forget how painful the loss of that touch could be.
He’d decided after Amelia’s death that he’d never marry again. He didn’t need the heartache. But he hadn’t factored in the loneliness that accompanied this choice. Still, he wasn’t sure love was worth the risk. Amelia’s death had nearly broken him with guilt and remorse.
He winced. Dahlia had said she’d lost her parents and now she was facing the death of her brother. Whatever he did with her, he had to make sure he did so with kindness. His lust would have to be kept under control.
As if she heard his thoughts, she turned to the door, starting when she saw him behind the partially open door.
“Apologies,” he said, opening the door a touch wider. “I heard something and was just checking to see if all was well.”
She gave a quick nod. “Of course.” She stood and he noted her hair was carefully pinned now, arranged in a simple coif that hid just how unruly and stunning it was. “Thank you for all your help this evening, my lord. I don’t know what we might have done if you hadn’t given us aid.” She dipped into another courtesy. “We are in your debt.”
His fingers tightened on the knob until he thought he might very well break it off. “You’re welcome,” he answered, resisting the urge to reach out and touch her. “I see my staff found more appropriate attire for you.”
She cast her gaze down at the dress. “Agnes was most helpful.”
“I’ll fetch your trunk tomorrow.” He’d already told her that. Why was he repeating himself? When had he become a bumbling idiot?
But she gave a nod. “The doctor said he’ll return as well.” She nibbled at her lip. “If Sam makes it the week without infection, he thinks we’ll be in the clear.”
Gavin gave a tight nod. “Dr. Grayson is excellent. I recruited him from London two years ago.” This was after he’d dismissed the backwater doctor who’d allowed his wife to die, treating her with leach