The Dutiful Rake Read Online Free PDF Page A

on Agnes and then help Mrs Watkins with her baby tonight. I have told Marcus just what to do for you. He will give you your medicine and anything else you need. You may trust him as you would myself.’ Ellerbeck gave the hand a reassuring pat.
    Gradually some of the confusion cleared in the hazy regard and it shifted slightly to include Marcus. A faintsmile touched the pallid lips and a weak voice said, ‘You were here…before. Gave me a drink…a flannel.’
    Surprised that she remembered, Marcus smiled down at her and nodded. She smiled back and shut her eyes wearily. As sick as she was, the smile held a great deal of sweetness.
    Ellerbeck stood up to leave and said quietly to Marcus, ‘No need for her to know who you are yet. Only worry her.’ Shrewdly he looked at Marcus and said, ‘Don’t you worry too much, either. She’ll do well enough now we’ve caught it. Believe me, little Miss Meg has the constitution of a horse.’ Seeing the doubt in the taut face and frowning grey eyes, he said, ‘I mean it, my lord. She’s a very sick lassie but I’ll warrant she’ll be up in a few days.’
     
    Left alone with his charge, Marcus wondered what to do. Miss Meg…no, dammit! Meg! If he were going to be her nurse, then there was little point in adhering to the usual rules governing polite intercourse. He’d already broken most of them anyway and was about to break a fair few more.
    Meg seemed inclined to sleep peacefully for the time being. Reflecting that this was likely to be of short duration, he pulled a large and battered leather armchair up to the bed and settled down to wait.
    A soft knock at the door announced the return of Barlow. ‘Brought some dinner up, my lord, and broth for Miss Meg. It ain’t just what you’ll be used to, but it’s better than nowt. Would there be aught else?’
    Marcus shook his head. ‘Not at the moment, Barlow. But stay…how is your wife?’
    Barlow smiled. ‘Doctor says she’s not too bad. Notlike Miss Meg. He told her to remain in bed for two or three days.’
    ‘Good.’ Genuine pleasure warmed his tones. ‘Go and look after her, Barlow. I can manage Miss Meg.’
    When Barlow had gone he turned his attention to the laden tray. It held a roast chicken, very cold, and dumplings along with fresh bread and a pat of butter. He grinned. There had been times during the war in Spain and Portugal when this would have been considered an extravagant meal for several famished officers in Wellington’s army.
    Also on the tray was a veilleuse, a combination night lamp and food warmer. He could remember his mother using one years ago when she had been ill. Barlow had already lit the oil lamp in the bottom section, its cheerful glow shone through the apertures in the porcelain. On top was the lidded bowl, doubtless containing Meg’s broth.
    What to do first? Meg was asleep and the heat from the lamp would keep the broth warm. After some thought he decided to let her sleep while he had something to eat. Accordingly he set the veilleuse on the nightstand, and addressed his own dinner. He was hungry after a long day in the saddle and made short work of the meal.
    Now, he thought, Meg. He had noticed a small curved porcelain sickroom-syphon on the tray, its lower end pierced. Barlow, he realised, was an unexpected treasure. He’d thought of everything. No doubt it would be a great deal easier to let Meg use this, rather than trying to spoon broth into her—a procedure that he suspected might have been more than a trifle messy.
    After putting the bowl of broth and syphon on the small bedside table, he followed the doctor’s exampleand sat down beside her on the bed to pick up a small hand. Chafing it gently between his large ones, he spoke her name quietly.
    ‘Meg…Meg, wake up.’
    At first there was no response, but then a sigh was heard and the eyes opened. They were very cloudy and wandered around the room before settling on Marcus with a puzzled frown. Gradually recognition