How to Heal the Marquess by Sally Forbes
Chapter Nineteen
“My lord, you certainly are in wonderful spirits today,” Daisy giggled as the duke finished regaling her with another tale from his youth.
Lord Berbrook beamed at her, relaxing comfortably against his pillows.
“I have you to thank for that, my dear,” he said fondly. “I dare say I feel better now than I have in ages.”
Daisy swelled with pride. She had noticed a drastic improvement in the duke’s condition since she had taken over his care. She was proud of what she was doing for him, but she knew she could never have done any of it were it not for her father’s excellent teachings and the alchemy she had learned from her uncle. And she never thought to hear such praise from a nobleman, especially when it came to medicine. But it was moments like those that made her sure she had chosen the correct path in life.
“Every moment I spend with you is a pleasure, Lord Berbrook,” she said humbly. “And I could not be more thrilled that you are doing so well.”
The duke watched her as she pulled the linens from his bed and prepared to put on fresh ones, gazing at her with awe.
“You truly do go above and beyond, dear,” he said. “I would be happy to summon one of the maids to do that for you.”
Daisy shook her head gently and smiled.
“It is no trouble at all, really,” she said. “I am happy to help in any way I can, for the time I am here.”
Lord Berbrook continued looking at her with affectionate wonder.
“It is no wonder your father depends so on your assistance,” he said. “It is easy to come to depend on your skilled hands, as well as your kindness and compassion. I have become rather spoiled by it myself if I am being truthful.”
Daisy giggled again, her cheeks turning pink. An onlooker might think the duke was developing romantic feelings for her had they not known of the professional relationship between Daisy and Lord Berbrook. But Daisy recalled the duke’s reaction to her on her first visit to the manor with her father.
And she had witnessed the way the duke had softened to her more each day she had visited him and how he had opened up and learned to do as she asked without question. She knew what was happening was that he was coming to respect her a great deal, as she was him. In fact, she even dared hope that he and his family considered her a friend. Especially, she admitted to herself, the duke’s grandson.
Lord Penwell appeared more attractive to Daisy each time she saw him. And, while she knew it was inappropriate to have such feelings, she could not help recognizing the connection she felt to him.
She could not know if he felt the same, but she had noticed that he, too, had become more accepting of her presence in his grandfather’s home. And, if she was not mistaken, she thought he was growing happier and more at ease each time he saw her.
And she could not forget the pulse-increasing intensity in his cinnamon-brown eyes when he spoke to her privately about his grandfather.
The butler entered the room just as she set aside the fresh bed linen to prepare the duke some tea. She looked up to see him carrying a tray with three fruit ices sitting upon it. She noted they were soft shades of blue, pink, and yellow and that each had a little silver spoon poking up from its dainty silver cup. She quickly cast her eyes downward and continued her work preparing the tea. She would not want her charge to think she had been staring at the treats wistfully. It would be considered distasteful and rude, especially since she was merely the acting physician.
The butler gave her a warm smile as he placed the fruit ices on a nearby dresser. Once he had disposed of the treats, he bowed to the duke formally.
“Lord Penwell will be joining you shortly,” he said.
Lord Berbrook looked bemused, but he nodded.
“Very good,” he said. “You are dismissed.”
The butler dipped his head to his master, then exited the room. As the door was closing behind the man, the duke looked at Daisy and smiled once again.
“My dear, would you be so kind as to help me get out of bed?” he asked.
Daisy whirled around to face the duke directly, feeling both thrilled and worried.
“I am happy to do anything you request, my lord,” she said kindly. “But despite the improvements you have made, you are still rather weak. I am not sure that leaving your bed will not be too strenuous for you just yet.”
The duke looked at her. Daisy briefly thought she had angered the duke and that he was preparing to tell her to leave his home and never return for her insubordination. He did not, however. He gave her a warm, if tired, a smile and pointed to the chair just beside the bed, where his grandson had been seated previously.
“My dear, I will only be just here,” he said. “I can get back in bed in an instant, should the need arise. Besides,” he said, his eyes becoming pleading, “lying in bed so much is making me feel worse.”
Daisy could not help silently agreeing that the duke would likely feel a little better if he spent at least a little time outside of his sickbed each day. Not to mention she could finish changing the bed linens much more easily if the duke was in his chair. And he was right. He would be less than two steps from the bed. Getting him back into it should be an easy task, even if she needed to do so in a hurry.
“Very well, Lord Berbrook,” she said, giving him a cautioning look. “But you must promise to tell me the instant you start feeling ill again.”
The Duke grinned and nodded, just like a boy who had been granted some grand Christmastide wish.
“I can agree to that, my dear,” he said. “I will not allow so much as a mild headache to go unmentioned.”
Daisy laughed, warmed and comforted by the duke’s renewed vigor. Even if he was still a bit weak and sickly, it was wonderful to see him seeming to come back to himself. Daisy eased the duke to the edge of his bed with great care and helped him into the chair. She offered him a pillow, but he shook his head gently, settling back carefully against the back of the chair and sighing.
“How is that, your lordship?” she asked, knowing she was fussing over him, just as his grandson did, but unable to help herself all the same. “Are you comfortable enough?”
The duke smiled fondly at her, not seeming to mind she was being overly motherly.
“I cannot tell you how comfortable I am, Daisy, dear,” he said. “This feels so good after laying in that bed for days, I could practically shout with joy.”
Daisy giggled, once again pleased the duke was so happy.
“I am so glad,” she said. “Would you like a fruit ice now?”
Her patient nodded eagerly, his boyish grin returning.
“Yes, please,” he said, clasping his hands together in his lap.
Daisy went over to the dresser where the fruit ices sat and selected the blue one for the duke. He smiled happily as she placed the cup into his hands, and she stepped back, forcing herself to not assist him in taking a bite.
She was glad she did, as he lifted the spoon to his lips without so much as a hand tremor. He took the bite into his mouth and sighed with delight. Daisy could not help thinking how he reminded her of a child who had just received candy or a sticky treat from the bakeshop.
“Oh, my, this is heavenly, indeed,” he said.
Daisy clapped, more overjoyed by the moment at the duke’s rapidly improving health.
“It pleases me to see you so happy, my lord,” she said.
As the duke enjoyed his treat, Daisy’s eyes wandered back to the dresser. She had not failed to notice there were three fruit ices on the tray. She tried not to stare wistfully as she studied them, wondering if they were all for the duke. It would be wonderful if they were, and more so still if he managed to eat them all, as it would further confirm her belief that he was on the mend. But she could not deny that she would love to try one as she looked at the treats.
She had never been to Gunter’s, as it was very expensive there, and it catered to the wealthy families of London. The few treats her father had bought for her in her life were from smaller, less extravagant, and less expensive shops. And, before that day, she would have never given such a luxurious treat much thought. She supposed it was largely because it was right there in the very same room with her that she was even wishing to taste one. She thought for a moment, entertaining the idea of asking for permission to try one. But as she was shaking off the horrid thought, the door opened.
Whirling around, as though she had been caught tasting the forbidden treats rather than just imagining it, she looked at the door with wide eyes. Her heart leapt into her throat when she realized it was the Marquess of Penwell who was entering.
“Ah, Tobias,” the duke said, not looking up from his fruit ice, which he was devouring with hearty delight. “How was your trip into town?”
Lord Penwell stood in the open doorway, staring at his grandfather in awe. Daisy could tell how surprised he was to see the duke out of bed, and for a moment, she feared she would incur his wrath. But then, he looked at her, his awe turning into a small smile of wonder, and he bowed to her gently.
“This is certainly a pleasant surprise,” he said, looking at her intently. “I trust the two of you are enjoying your ices.”
Daisy blinked at him, confused. She was so lost in the handsomeness of his countenance that she had forgotten all about the fruit ices.
“I do not understand,” she said. “Do you mean the fruit ices you brought for the duke?”
At this, the duke stopped eating. He looked at Daisy as though just then, realizing she did not have one as well.
The marquess’s smile widened, and he looked at her warmly.
“Did you not know that one of those is for you?” he asked, walking quickly over to the dresser, where the other ices sat, and fetching the pink one. “Please, forgive me. I should have told the butler to let you know.”
She smiled timidly at the marquess as he extended the silver cup toward her. She reached for it slowly, as though fearing he would change his mind should she appear too eager to accept it.
“Thank you, my lord,” she said, offering him a slight curtsey before taking the cup from his hand.
It was only as their hands touched that she realized the marquess was not wearing gloves. She stood utterly paralyzed, unable to even think as the tingles coursed through her body as their skin made contact. The marquess seemed equally stunned, merely staring at her with his wide, cinnamon eyes. Her heart was beating impossibly fast, and she thought, with giddy fervor, that she might faint.
Her potential swoon was disrupted by the sound of the duke clearing his throat for the second time that morning. Daisy retracted her hand as quickly as she could, without spilling any of the ice on the floor, murmuring a bashful word of gratitude. Then, the pair turned to his grandfather, both understanding the duke wished to say something.
“Daisy, dear,” he said, licking his spoon, again reminding Daisy of a young boy. “Would you mind giving me a moment alone with my grandson?”
