Page 16 of The Song of the Siren (The Venturesome Ladies of Little Valentine #2)

Bea found his hands and almost pitched into his lap as he held on to her pull himself upright.

Leaning against the bed with a groan, he laid his head on the mattress.

Bea regarded him, seeing his now sightless eyes, which had once been deep hazel and bright with humour and intelligence, and were now marred by a milky white bloom, like tiny petals.

His head was swollen and damaged too, his hair a mess, and angry purple and green bruises and grazes covered his face.

She could only imagine the pain of hitting his head again with such injuries.

Her heart clenched, and she pushed the swell of pity away, aware any sign of sympathy would be bound to disgust him.

“Banged my shins on the bed and as I bent to rub them, I must have hit my blasted head on the side table. Blasted fool thing to do,” he added contemptuously.

“Well, hardly, when you cannot see the side table and did not know it was there,” Bea replied calmly, bending to pick up the glass of water that had fallen down but thankfully not broken.

“I was trying to familiarise myself with the room,” he added with a snort. “So that went well.”

“That sounds an excellent notion,” Bea said, stepping carefully over his long legs and trying not to notice his state of undress as she bent to smooth the rug that had rucked up when he fell.

She had never seen a man’s bare legs before, so much exposed skin, and was both unnerved and reassured to discover that Stonehaven had lost none of his power to fluster her.

And why should he? He was the same man, after all.

“But perhaps it might be better to do so with someone else, the first time at least. Until you have had a chance to memorise it.”

“A sensible notion, I suppose,” he said grudgingly, poking tentatively at the new lump on his forehead. “Am I safe to get up or will the ceiling cave in?”

“Quite safe, my lord. Here, if you would allow me to help you.” Bea turned him to face into the room, safely away from the side table, and he grunted as he stood, closing his eyes and sucking in a breath.

Swaying, he grabbed at her and held on, one hand clutching her arm, the other more intimately at her waist. Bea held her breath too, staring at him as her heart pounded.

“My lord?”

“Dizzy,” he explained, and then let out a heavy exhalation.

Bea watched as he came back to himself and saw the moment he realised what he was touching. He snatched his hands back like she’d burned him.

“I beg your pardon,” he said stiffly.

Bea bit back a smile. “That’s quite all right. I took no offense.”

“Well, you ought to. Can’t have fellows going about groping the staff. Who are you, by the by? Not Polly?”

Bea bit her lip. He didn’t recognise her voice.

Hardly surprising, for she had made little impression upon him.

He’d not speak so freely to her if he realised, either, of that much she was certain.

No doubt he’d be appalled at getting himself in such a fix in front of her.

It would hurt his pride, and she did not wish for that to be dented any more than it already had been.

What devil got into her head, she did not know, but the words were out before she could help herself. “I’m Sally, my lord.”

“Sally? We’ve not met.”

“No, my lord. I’m new, and I’m not supposed to be upstairs. I only came to fetch something for Miss Izzy and heard the crash. You won’t tell, will you?”

“What do you take me for? I won’t tattle if you don’t. No need to tell them about… about my tumble.”

“Oh, no. I would not do so,” she promised, seeing at once she had been correct. He was too proud to want any of the family to know he’d taken such a tumble.

“Good girl. Reckon you can help me take a turn about the room without falling out of the window?” His voice was gruff but less angry now.

She smiled and nodded before realising her mistake. “I think I can manage that.”

“Right you are. Quickly now, before someone discovers us. You’ll be in a world of trouble if anyone finds you here alone with me.”

“I know,” she replied placidly as she slipped an arm around his waist. “Hold on to me now, and I’ll give you a guided tour.”

Bea was astounded by how calm she sounded when her senses were reeling.

His body blazed with heat through the thin cotton of his nightshirt, and she was rivetingly aware that he wore nothing else.

His feet were bare, long, strong toes with neatly cut nails, startlingly white and oddly vulnerable against the colourful rag rug beneath them.

A heavy arm settled carefully across her shoulders, and she leaned into him, breathing in the scent of a man: warm skin, clean linen, and the faintest hint of sweat.

“Keep your hand on the mattress as we go. First turn around we’ll keep close to the bed,” she suggested.

He nodded his agreement, and she walked beside him, wondering if he was counting as she looked up to see intense concentration on his face.

“Stop now,” she said. “Else you’ll bang your knees on the bedside table. There’s a lamp on this one, so you’ll not want to knock it over.”

“Right,” he agreed, turning towards the curtains. “It’s sunny?”

“Yes,” she agreed, surprised. “You can tell?”

“Sometimes. I can see light. But it’s too bright, mostly.”

“That’s why the curtains are almost shut?” she asked.

“Yes. Hurts my head.”

Bea nodded, considering this. “George said rain’s coming.

Tomorrow should be overcast. Perhaps you’ll find that easier?

Perhaps I— Perhaps someone could help you go down to the garden.

There’s a covered terrace at the back of the house, out of the weather.

It’s a lovely place to sit… at least, it looks like it would be,” she added, realising Sally would not know that.

“You know George?” he asked. “I thought you were new here.”

Bea hesitated, wishing she’d not mentioned George. “Um. Well, everyone in Little Valentine knows Mr Hallat.”

“Right. Well, I think I’ll stick to figuring out a map of the bedroom for now,” he muttered.

“Of course,” she said, biting her lip. She ought not to press him to do more before he was ready.

Bea helped him to make what felt like dozens of turns about the bedroom, sometimes close to the wall, so he could work out where the door and the fireplace was, and the edge of the hearth, and sometimes closer to the bed, stopping at intervals so he could reach out and touch either the wall or the bed frame and orientate the distance between.

After walking up and down for a good half an hour, he was leaning on her harder, his features grey with fatigue.

“Come, my lord, I believe you have done enough for one day. You’ve worn yourself out. Can’t run before you can walk, now can you?”

“Full of good advice, aren’t you, Sally?” he remarked, though not unkindly, as she guided him back to bed.

“Yes, sir. Reckon I am,” she replied, knowing Sally was a deal too pert for her own good but unable to resist the temptation.

He laughed softly as he leaned back against the pillows. “Thank you,” he said, closing his eyes as she straightened the covers around him. “You’ve done me a good turn. I won’t forget it.”

“You’re welcome,” she said quietly.

“Wait,” he said as she was about to leave. “Tell me, do you like it here?”

“I do,” she replied, feeling a stab of guilt for her deception.

“The Honeywells are good people. Kind employers, I imagine,” he added, a slightly concerned frown tugging at his eyebrows.

“They are,” she agreed, feeling even worse for speaking about her own family, though she believed it nothing but the truth.

“They’ve been remarkably good to me,” he admitted. “They must be wishing me to the devil, I’m sure. I ought not stay any longer, only—”

“Oh, no, my lord,” she said in a rush. “I have heard them speak and they wish for you to stay as long as you want. They have only your recovery in mind and would never wish to see you leave prematurely.”

He looked a little startled by her impassioned reply and Bea winced, but again, she knew it to be true.

“Well, that’s… heartening,” he admitted. “I feel like a damned parasite, and an ill-tempered one at that.”

“You have every right to be angry, and to grieve for the injury done you. A marquess you may be, but I am afraid you are as human as the rest of us.” Bea bit her lip, suddenly horrified at her words.

What in the name of heaven had she been thinking, saying such things to him?

And she supposedly a servant! She braced herself for the inevitable and well-earned set down.

Instead, his lips quirked at the corners. “I don’t impress you much, do I, Sally?”

“On the contrary,” she said tartly, though she could not keep the breathless note from her voice. “Your courage impresses me greatly, if not your fancy title, and don’t go thinking falling down in front of me diminishes my respect, my lord, for it does not.”

“Does it not? Yet you speak so boldly,” he replied, sounding amused rather than annoyed.

“I have been told I am a deal too forward,” she said, wondering at herself. This Sally creature seemed to have taken control of her tongue and run away with it. Not that she minded, for Stonehaven seemed to like Sally, and he seemed far more peaceful than before.

“Not by me,” he said. “Thank you, Sally. You truly have done me a great kindness today.”

“It was my pleasure,” Bea said softly, aware he was worn out, and she hurried from the room, glancing around as she stepped into the corridor.

She closed the door and let out a breath, praying that Stonehaven kept his word not to mention Sally.