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CHAPTER THREE

Three more days passed, and Matthew was beginning to feel human again. The pain in his chest was lessening, but the stitches in his face drove him to distraction with itching. He tried not to scratch, but he couldn’t help rubbing at the stitches through the bandages to try to gain relief.

He stopped whenever he heard Miss Stanley approaching, not wishing to incur her wrath. She chided him the first time she’d caught him scratching an especially severe itch.

“If you keep that up, you’ll never heal.”

She was right, but he still sulked for the remainder of the day.

Matthew was restless. Now that the danger had passed, he wanted out of bed.

He also had mixed emotions about seeing his damaged face, but he couldn’t avoid it forever. Part of him worried what he’d see, but the tiny bit of an optimist that hadn’t been eradicated hoped his injury might not be too noticeable once healed.

The mirror had been removed from his room the day he’d awoken—something he knew wasn’t coincidental. He hadn’t worked up the courage before to request one, but that was about to change.

A soft tap on his door heralded Miss Stanley’s arrival with breakfast.

He’d graduated the day before to porridge, accompanied by a cup of tea. Normally such a menu would not be cause for rejoicing, but he was so thankful to have food he could chew that it seemed a veritable feast.

Matthew was coming to enjoy her company. Her serene demeanor soothed his agitation, and even his pain.

“Good morning, my lord. Are you ready to break your fast?”

“I am, Miss Stanley. I never thought coddled eggs and dry toast would be so tantalizing.”

She smiled at him as she set the tray within reach. “Have you need of a bedpan?”

How she said that without blushing astounded him. It had galled him to use a bedpan for the first few days, but he’d been too injured to protest.

Now, however, he’d be damned if he’d do so. “I will use the privy when needed.”

He was amused when her brows lowered and her jaw tightened, as he’d expected.

“You’re not recovered enough to make your way down the stairs and out to the privy.” Her eyes flashed.

Matthew drew himself more upright, suppressing a gasp at the momentary sharp ache. “I will use the privy,” he said firmly, “when needed.”

He held her stare until she threw her hands up into the air. “Fine. Injure yourself further. See if I care.”

“Ah, but you would indeed care,” he answered with a wry grin. “I’ll be fine, I assure you. However, one item I do need is a mirror.”

She worried her plump lower lip, drawing his attention there. He hadn’t noticed her lovely and lush mouth. How had he missed it?

Matthew snapped his eyes back to hers.

“I’m not certain that would be wise, my lord.”

He didn’t like her reluctance to bring him a mirror, and panic tried to gain a foothold. He narrowed his gaze, dawning a cloak of irritation. “I didn’t ask for your opinion. I wish to know what I’m facing.”

She dropped her eyes. “I’ll bring a mirror after you’ve finished eating, Lord Hadleigh.” With that, she left the room, and he felt like a cad.

Elizabeth trembled as she went downstairs, but not with fear.

It was anger at his high-handed rudeness.

Although Lord Hadleigh was curt after first regaining consciousness, in the days since, he’d been more polite, thanking her for his meals and asking for her assistance rather than demanding it.

She’d begun reading to him when she had a few spare minutes, which he seemed to appreciate.

With the headaches from his injury, keeping himself occupied was surely difficult.

The physician had examined the earl, discovering a lump on the back of his head where he must have hit it on something after being stabbed. Doctor Cartwright was certain the headaches would fade in time; thankfully, they were already less frequent and intense.

She crossed to the hand mirror on her dressing table and lifted it, examining her own reflection. A perfectly normal face. No features that made her a beauty, but nothing unpleasant, either.

Elizabeth wondered how it felt to be beautiful. To have people watch you with admiration as you spoke with them or whirled past on a dance floor.

The earl would know.

Lord Hadleigh was beautiful, as unconventional as that description might be for a man. The uninjured side of his face showed a superbly carved cheekbone and a well-cut jawline. His hair was thick and dark, and soft now that she’d been able to clean it.

The unusual shade of his green eyes reminded her of a cup at the British Museum. Carved out of nephrite jade, the intense hue had pale green streaks running through it.

Those colors were mirrored in his eyes, the deeper green shot through with those paler streaks. They mesmerized her.

She shook her head to clear it of fanciful thoughts and hastened back to the earl’s room, removing the tray to a nearby dresser before offering him the mirror. Elizabeth wished he’d waited another week before asking but understood why he hadn’t.

Lord Hadleigh’s look was indecipherable. He slowly reached his hand out, hovering it over the mirror handle for several moments before grasping it.

Closing his eyes, he brought the mirror up. With a deep breath, he opened his eyes.

An unbearable sorrow was in those gorgeous green eyes. She searched for something to say. “Doctor Cartwright said you’ll continue to heal. Your scars will likely fade somewhat.”

His face turned stony as he gripped the handle, staring at his reflection. With a suddenness that made her jump, he hurled the mirror at the wall, shattering the glass.

Elizabeth stared at the pieces on the floor, shocked by his violent response. She’d expected him to be unhappy, not destructive.

Perhaps she should have refused him the mirror this soon, but he might have gone in search of one.

After drinking a cup of tea to settle her nerves, she took a broom and dustpan and went upstairs to tidy the mess. She tapped on the door and entered at his call.

To her astonishment, the fragments had already been gathered into a neat pile.

The earl was back in his bed, now looking at her with an uncomfortable, contrite expression. “I believe I gathered all of the pieces. I apologize for my lack of restraint and for damaging the mirror. I will, of course, pay to repair or replace it.”

Elizabeth suppressed her shock. She doubted the earl was prone to apologies, and this one was entirely unexpected. She covered by fussing over him. “You shouldn’t have exerted yourself. And you could have cut your hands.”

As she swept the glass into the dustpan, she added quietly, “Thank you.”

The door shut and Matthew closed his eyes, simmering in regret. He’d been rash and thoughtless, destroying something that belonged to a family with far less wealth than his own. He was hot with shame.

The ornate mirror was rendered in silver, the back engraved with depictions of lions, deer, dogs, elephants, and leopards. How had she come to possess it? Had it been passed down to her by a relative? Was it bought at a local shop, and if so, by whom? Her father?

Miss Stanley hadn’t spoken much of the vicar, but a father might bestow such a gift upon a fondly regarded daughter. Matthew knew her mother had died, but nothing beyond that. Had it belonged to her?

His chest ached at the thought he’d carelessly destroyed something that might be precious to her.

A soft tap on the door startled him. He hadn’t expected her quick return, but considering the vicar had only visited him once to pray over his “desecrated remains and degenerate soul,” he doubted it was that man.

She entered at his call, crossing to the dresser to retrieve his tray. She turned and, without a word, quietly moved toward the open door.

“Miss Stanley?”

She faced him. “Yes?”

“I—” He halted, faltering before mustering his courage. “I wanted to apologize again, not only for ruining your mirror, but also for my treatment of you. You’ve been kind and solicitous, and I’ve repaid you with self-centeredness and anger. I deeply regret it.”

Her eyes were huge. Matthew strove not to squirm under her scrutiny. Then she smiled, and it transformed her.

“Thank you, my lord. I cannot imagine that was easy for you to say. But I understand why you reacted as you did. You’ve been through a rather traumatic experience and are still healing.

I’m sure it’s frustrating to be bedridden, then confronted with the evidence of your brush with mortality.

” Her smile eased into a thoughtful look before she gave her head a slight shake. “Is there anything else you need?”

He stared back at her, stunned. He deserved neither her forgiveness nor grace, yet she’d bestowed it, anyway. His eyes felt an unfamiliar stinging. He rapidly blinked it away.

“Not presently. Perhaps you would consider reading to me later?”

Her wide smile was breathtaking. “I would enjoy that. Shall we pick up with our book this afternoon?”

For several moments, he couldn’t speak, so enchanted was he by the sparkle in her eyes and her plump, pretty lips. He swallowed hard, giving her a silent nod.

“Very well. Try to rest if you can. I know it’s becoming tedious being cooped up in this room all day. Perhaps we can do our reading outdoors today, if you’re up to it.”

He cleared his throat. “That sounds lovely.”

She beamed at him before again turning to exit, leaving him to ponder why he felt so odd.

Elizabeth hurried through her morning tasks, thankful Papa was away from the vicarage today. He liked to chide her about spending so much time with Lord Hadleigh, but he didn’t understand the isolation the earl was experiencing, which exacerbated his attempts to heal.

A happy spirit encourages a healthy body, Mama had always said. Yet Mama had been one of the happiest people she’d ever known, and that hadn’t prevented her mother from succumbing to influenza when Elizabeth was only eight years old.

Aunt Philomena had tried to persuade Papa to let her take Elizabeth to live with her until the girl was older, but Papa had insisted he needed her home.

She quickly learned quickly how to manage the household, sweeping the floors with a broom taller than her and learning how to stretch the money her father provided to purchase the things they needed, including the food she prepared for every meal.

“Papa, might we employ a maid?” she’d asked once, not long after Mama had died.

Papa had stared at her. “Why would we do that, child? You’re capable of keeping this small house yourself.” His eyes returned to his paper, the discussion finished, as far as he was concerned. She never brought it up again.

What would their lives had been like if Mama had survived? She often wondered if Papa would be kinder.

She hadn’t thought of him as unkind in her childhood, but perhaps Mama had been a softening influence. Or perhaps losing Mama had changed him in ways Elizabeth hadn’t been able to perceive as a child.

It seemed years since he’d done more than give her orders and chastise her for perceived wrongs. She couldn’t recall him ever apologizing to her.

Yet the nobleman upstairs, who had doubtless been experiencing great pain since waking, had humbled himself and apologized.

The damaged mirror pained her. It had belonged to Mama, who had given it to Elizabeth before she died. At least she would be able to keep the frame; perhaps she could one day replace the glass.

She thought she understood Lord Hadleigh’s response. He was an undeniably attractive man and was shocked by the damage to his face. He was still stunning to her, but he was used to seeing perfection. That must have been a harsh reality to face.

Perfection was something she’d never had, so she wouldn’t experience such a loss the same way.

Elizabeth was sure he’d acted without thinking, and she would not hold it against him.

How he conducted himself in the aftermath had displayed a deeper character that surprised her.

She wondered if it would be possible to draw out more of that depth without destructiveness being part of the process.

Perhaps the afternoon would help her discover the answer.