Lady Sophia's Rescue (Traditional Regency Romance) by Cheryl Bolen Read Free Book Online Page B

“What’s wrong?” He gripped two smooth shoulders and drew in the rose scent of her.
    “I don’t know what’s come over me,” she said in a suddenly thin voice. “I’m ever so dizzy, and I’ve a beast of a headache.”
    “I’ll send for a physician.”
    She shook her head. “I daresay it’s nothing more than exhaustion from the tedious journey.”
    “I pray you haven’t taken a chill from the nasty weather.”
    “I am decidedly susceptible to chills,” she said in a hoarse whisper, shooting a glance at her sister, whose nod confirmed.
    He should not have insisted they come to London today in the near-freezing chill in wet clothing. It would serve him right if she took her death of cold. Anyone could see how delicate she was. He bent to put an arm around her. “Allow me to help you to your chamber.”
    When they reached the center hall, he instructed the footman to have warm milk sent up to Miss Door’s room. “My mother swears that warm milk wards off the worst chills,” he told Isadore.
    A wane smile on her lips, she went limp against him, her head pillowing on his shoulder. As his arm came around her he realized how truly small she was. By the constant comparison to her skinny sister he had thought Isadore voluptuous — perhaps because of her nicely rounded breasts. But now he realized she was every bit as thin as her sister. Only with curves in the appropriate places — places he would not allow himself to contemplate. Not while the poor woman was so sick.
    Miss Dorothea Door ran ahead to light a candle and throw back the covers of her sister’s bed while William assisted Isadore. Fearing she was too weak to climb upon the bed, William lifted her in his arms then set her down on the smooth white linen. His brows lowered with concern. “I’d feel much more at ease if you would allow me to summon a physician.”
    She settled a graceful hand on his. “You’re very kind, but I daresay a good night’s sleep will do me wonders.” She turned to her sister. “Will it not, Dorothea?”
    The mute nodded.
    “Give me your word you will send for me if your condition worsens during the night,” he said.
    She fell back into the pillows and nodded. “If the need should arise, I’ll send my sister to pound upon your door.”
    “My chambers are directly across the corridor from you.”
    He fought the urge to bend down and kiss her brow as his mother had done to him when he was sick as a youngster.
    Across the corridor to his bedchamber, he settled at his desk to pen those letters left unfinished that afternoon. The room seemed permeated with the scent of roses. Isadore’s scent.
    Even though it was not yet nine o’clock, William knew he would not see Diane later that night.
    Isadore might need him.
    * * *
    She listened as his footsteps disappeared into his bedchamber, then she undressed and, with assistance from Dottie, put on her night shift. She stood before the fire, hugging her bare arms and thinking about Mr. Sublime. Soon, a tear meandered along her cheek.
    Dottie rushed to her. “Oh, milady! Whatever is wrong?”
    “I’m cursed, Dottie. Completely cursed. Why could I not have met the Paragon before I made the disastrous decision to wed Lord Finkel?”
    “I don’t know what a paragon is, me lady, but I perceive yer speaking of Mr. Birmingham.”
    Sophia sniffed. “Indeed I am. He’s everything I looked for in the seven and forty men I rejected. He’s so. . . magnificent.”
    Dottie put hands to hips. “Ye said yerself he could be a highwayman.”
    Sophia glared at her. “And you countered by saying you were convinced he was a gentleman. A very wealthy, fine gentleman. And, you must own, you’re always right about people.”
    Though reason told her Mr. Birmingham made vast amounts of money on the wrong side of the law, her heart told her he was a good man. A gentleman. She collapsed into her bed, initiating a fresh torrent of tears. “Why did I not listen to you when you warned me