The Dutiful Rake Read Online Free PDF

dawned and she smiled. ‘Marc.’
    ‘That’s right. You remembered.’ He felt absurdly pleased that she remembered his name and her smile for some unknown reason warmed him. No doubt it was relief to think that Ellerbeck was right, and she was not so ill as he had first thought.
    ‘Oh, yes.’ The expression hazed over slightly. ‘I don’t know anyone else so handsome…nice.’ She closed her eyes, patently unaware of having said anything untoward.
    Somewhat startled, Marcus tried again. ‘Meg…it is time for you to have some dinner. Come.’
    Again the eyes opened.
    ‘That’s the way,’ said Marcus encouragingly. He slipped an arm around her and helped her to sit up. She was pitifully weak and leaned against him, shaking. He could feel her trembling, feel the heat of her fevered body clear through her nightgown as he held her against him. With his free hand he picked up the syphon and presented it to her.
    A feeble yet outraged protest greeted this. ‘I don’t need that blasted thing!’
    ‘Rubbish!’ he responded succinctly, firmly suppressing a delighted smile at her intransigence. ‘Do as you are bid.’
    Rather to his surprise she obeyed without further argument and took it. He reached out for the bowl and held it so that the pierced end of the syphon rested in the broth.
    ‘There you are, my dear, drink it up.’ He was conscious of a swell of satisfaction as the level in the bowl dropped. Half the broth was gone before she shook her head. Marcus did not insist. She could have some more later. Thanks to Barlow’s forethought, the broth could be kept warm for hours.
    ‘A drink?’
    She nodded against his shoulder. He brought the glass to her lips and held it for her to take several swallows. When she had finished, he held her steady while with his free hand he rearranged the pillows. Carefully he sat her back against them and drew the blankets up around her.
    Her eyes were shut again, but he did not think she was asleep. Sure enough, a moment later her eyes opened and she surveyed him with mild curiosity.
    ‘Who are you?’ Her voice was weak and cracked slightly as though her throat were sore.
    ‘Marc. I’m a friend.’
    That seemed to puzzle her. ‘Oh. I didn’t know. You’re a very nice one. Sorry I was rude.’ Then the eyes fluttered shut again.
     
    As the night wore on she became more confused and restless. Marcus was kept extremely busy in his efforts to help her be quiet and comfortable. Once when he was building up the fire he heard a noise and turned around to find her getting out of bed. Horrified, he strode across and lifted her effortlessly in his arms to put her back. She struggled at first, but submitted when he spoke.
    ‘Meg, sweetheart—’ the endearment slipped out unconsciously ‘—you must stay in bed.’
    ‘Am I sick?’ She clung to him as he attempted to tuck her in. ‘Oh, that’s right. Ellerbeck was here!’ Suddenly she panicked. ‘I can’t pay him! There’s no money for me, Cousin Samuel says.’
    It was like a blow over the heart to hear the fear in her voice. What would it be like to face destitution as this girl did? To face your entire life knowing that there was not a soul in the world to care what became of you and to have to go out into that world to earn your living. It must be a nightmare for anyone at the best of times, and must be so for her if it could even penetrate the feverish fog clouding her mind.
    Still holding her in his arms, he tried gently to reassure her. ‘Don’t worry, Meg. The bills are all paid and there is plenty of money. You are quite safe with me. Go to sleep.’ His hands automatically stroked the thick dark curls, which felt lank and lifeless to his touch.
    Much to his surprise she seemed to accept this and settled down. He found though that when he left her she became upset and scared. Ironically he thought that, although he had spent countless nights with a woman clasped in his arms, this one would stand out in his