He gave a mock shudder and groaned. “You shall have these next few days to lay siege against me, because I must insist on your remaining at Langford Hall for now. Your uncle may be an excellent vicar, but he will be an inept nurse. It has not escaped my notice how much you take upon yourself at the vicarage. But you’ll only cause more permanent damage to yourself if you return to your duties too soon. ”

This obviously worried her, as he could tell by the little nibble of her lip. “I cannot stay. How will he manage without me?”

“He’ll just have to make do until you are better, Temple. Besides, he has a housekeeper who can take on extra chores for the week or two until you are recovered.”

She tried to sit up, winced, and fell back with a breathy moan. “I cannot possibly remain here for an entire fortnight.”

“You cannot possibly return to the vicarage until you are able to move your arm. We’ll take it day by day,” he assured her.

“No sense getting worked up about it. If your uncle requires more assistance, I’ll send one of my staff to help him out.

How does that sound to you? Your regular housekeeper and one of my maids or footmen in addition… or I can send him both.”

“That is very generous,” she admitted. “It would ease my mind greatly.”

He shook his head. “It is the least I can do. I know I have been more insufferable than usual lately. Not that I will change, since I fear this is my nature. But I am not completely lost to honor and must insist on taking responsibility for my mistakes.”

“Is this what I am? A mistake?”

He gave her chin a gentle tweak. “A lovely mistake. It troubles me that you might have lain in the snow for hours, or worse, lain there throughout the storm and frozen to death had I not happened to be glancing out the window at the very moment you fell.”

“The angels were looking out for me,” she said earnestly, then cast him another of her delicate smiles. “See what happens when you get in their good graces? You ought to try it sometime.”

He laughed. “I am taking care of you, aren’t I? Is this not my good deed for the day?”

Taking care of the lovely Ailis.

Miss Temple of Virtue.

Gad, if all good women looked so tempting, he might not mind being more of a saint and less of a sinner.

But that brought him back to the reason he had been even surlier than usual these past few weeks.

He could not think of that blasted betting book opened at White’s by his own traitorous friends without steam pouring out of his ears.

Now, all of London had their attention on him, declaring him another of those Silver Dukes.

This explained the surge of invitations he had been receiving lately.

His own mother was threatening to come to Langford Hall with a party of her friends at Christmastide.

He had a letter from her delivered just this morning that he dreaded opening.

It was still sitting on his desk with its seal intact.

“I’ll leave you to rest now, Miss Temple. Martha can summon me if anything urgent comes up.”

“Such as this morning’s breakfast?” she teased, referring to her earlier bouts of nausea.

“Try not to deposit that gift in my bed.” He grinned as he folded his arms over his chest and stared down at her.

To his dismay, it was so hard to draw his gaze away from Ailis.

“I have a bit of work to do. But I will look in on you before retiring for the night. Martha, make certain our Miss Temple is kept warm, and give her only light fare if she gets hungry later.”

“Aye, Your Grace. I’ll take good care of the lamb.”

Jonas strode out and returned to his study, where a pile of work awaited him in addition to his mother’s letter that he still did not wish to open. Ever since his friends had anointed him the next Silver Duke, the ton had gone into a frenzy.

Even his mother had taken up the gauntlet and was now determined to see him married. He knew what this latest letter contained, because as dowager duchess she felt above obeying his command to stay away from Langford Hall.

He cared for his family, but refused to have them and their friends descend on him like a plague of locusts for the purpose of matching him to some dimwit heiress.

All he wanted was to be left alone.

She was going to ignore him.

He sighed and set aside the document he was attempting to read, for concentrating on anything now was a useless endeavor. Between his mother’s meddling and Ailis looking beyond lovely in his bed, how could any man think straight?

In truth, Ailis had lately been putting his heart in a twist.

What was it about this impertinent spinster that seemed to affect him?

He thought his heart had become an impenetrable fortress over the years, a consequence of the war and a year’s imprisonment in one of the harsher French prisons, until he’d made his escape.

His third escape attempt was the charm, and he had managed to get a few soldiers out along with him.

But too many others had been caught or simply left behind because they were too weak to run.

He had worked tirelessly to negotiate their release upon his return to England. However, little was accomplished until Napoleon was captured and sent into exile.

The war had ended two years ago, but only recently had his nightmares occasioned by regret and frustration begun to abate.

“Ramsdale, leave the past alone,” he muttered, knowing Ailis’s injury and the pain she was enduring had brought back those memories.

He rose, took a moment to stretch his stiff body, and then crossed to his bureau to pour himself a brandy.

With glass in hand, he sauntered to the window to watch the snow still falling hard upon the ground.

He had wasted hours thinking of Ailis and all the reasons why he should keep his distance from her, and still had no idea what he was to do about her.

Do nothing.

Not only had the war years left him bitter, but they’d left him physically scarred as a consequence of those two failed escape attempts.

How did one regain one’s civility after experiencing so much cruelty?

This is why he hated moving about the ton so much. There was so much fakery. All those useless rules and faux morality. But here in Broadmoor, people were open about who they were. This made him more appreciative of those rare beings driven by kindness.

This was Ailis, was it not? She was no meek violet, but she had a big heart and offered it sincerely.

However, she was fully capable of standing her ground. She had a lot of fight in her, yet was one of the kindest people he had ever met.

He liked this mix of strength and gentleness about her.

Perhaps this was why they got along so well, although he was often purposely curt to keep her from getting too close to him.

A man with an empty heart should not be so attracted to a young woman with a full heart, should he?

Later that evening, Jonas stopped in to see how Ailis was faring. He had wanted to come up sooner, but refrained because he was already too drawn to her and did not like this surprising turn of events.

Martha was right about her. She was soft as a lamb. Soft skin. Soft curves. The softest smile.

“Ailis? Are you awake?” he asked in a whisper, noting her eyes were closed, those lovely, dark lashes resting on her pale cheeks as she appeared to be lost in sleep.

Disappointed, but not wishing to disturb her or Martha, who also had her eyes closed while seated beside Ailis, he crossed to the window and drew aside the heavy drapes.

He had been staring out his study window only a few minutes ago, but could not resist looking out again.

He found this snowfall particularly fascinating. A little magical.

Perhaps because it had brought him Ailis.

The wind howled and rattled the windows, for the blizzard remained at full strength and probably would remain so into the morning.

Now that night had fallen, the moon’s glow reflected off the icy white of the snow and caused it to shimmer.

“Your Grace,” Martha said in a whisper, yawning as she rose from her chair beside the bed, “may I run downstairs for a moment? I’d like to gather some food for Miss Temple should she recover her appetite. She’s hardly eaten all day.”

Jonas nodded. “I’ll stay until you return. Prepare another pack of ice for her shoulder, too. We need to keep the swelling down.”

Ailis’s eyes flickered open as he settled in the chair beside her that Martha had vacated. “Ah, you’re awake.”

She cast him the sweetest smile. “Yes, just needed to close my eyes for a few minutes. But I do not think I will sleep much tonight.”

He nodded. “Your shoulder will be sore.”

“Quite,” she said with a sleepy sigh. “Pain shoots up my arm with even the slightest movement.”

“I’m sorry for it, Ailis. Truly.” He stretched his legs out before him, trying to get comfortable in the chair.

“I know. For all your frowning and grumbling, you have a good heart. What do you have in your hand?”

“This?” He stared at the envelope grasped in his fist, unaware he had brought it along with him until just now. “It is a letter I have been putting off reading all day.”

“You do not seem pleased about it. Who is it from?”

“My mother.”

“What?” Ailis’s mouth dropped open and she laughed. “You have a mother? I mean…goodness. You have a mother?”