Rules for a Proper Governess by Ashley Jennifer

Author:Ashley, Jennifer [Ashley, Jennifer]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Historical Romance, highland, Regency romance, regency england, Love Story, General, Romance, Victorian, Regency Scotland, Historical, Fiction
ISBN: 9780425266038
Publisher: Berkley Publishing Group
Published: 2014-10-07T07:00:00+00:00

Sinclair held Andrew’s hand far into the night and the wee hours of the morning. When he felt sleep coming upon him, he stretched out beside Andrew, laying his hand on Andrew’s chest. If Andrew so much as twitched, Sinclair would wake.

Sleep came in waves. It would surround Sinclair in blackness for a few minutes, then ease up, then sweep over him again. Through it all Andrew never moved.

When morning light came, so did Andrew’s fever. Sinclair came wide awake, never feeling his restless night. He commanded cool water to be brought and a tonic called Warburg’s tincture. The tincture was meant for malarial diseases, but Sinclair knew by experience it would work to bring down fever. The powders the doctor had handed to Bertie were useless—he knew that too. Good for dyspepsia and not much else.

Andrew, restless, didn’t want to swallow the medicine, but Sinclair got it into him. He bathed Andrew’s face and hands, changing the bedding himself when Andrew soiled it.

All day Sinclair nursed his son, not knowing what time it was or caring. Somewhere during the day, he let Macaulay talk him into donning a shirt and trousers, but Sinclair saw no reason to dress completely. He napped off and on, felt the deepening of whiskers on his face. He knew others came and went, but Sinclair couldn’t pull his concentration from Andrew.

Sinclair always sensed Bertie’s presence though, even when he didn’t turn his head to look at her, even when she said nothing to him. Cool calm stole over the room whenever she was in it, as though she brought peace and reassurance with her.

When the sun went down, Peter restocked the coal fire, and Macaulay brought Sinclair a cup of beef tea and forced him to drink it. Bertie came in as Macaulay departed.

She didn’t speak, only closed the door quietly, made her way to the bedside, and laid the back of her hand against Andrew’s cheek. His fever had come down a little, or so Sinclair thought, but he was still far from well.

“Cat is finally asleep,” Bertie said. “I gave her some tea with sugar and lots of milk—seemed to do the trick. The poor mite is all in.” She touched the bandages on Andrew’s shoulder then looked at Sinclair. “So are you, I’m thinking.”

“I’ll sleep when it’s over,” Sinclair said sharply.

“I can stay with him. I’ll watch him every second, believe me.”

“No.” Sinclair didn’t move from where he sat on the bed. “I don’t want to leave, in case . . .”

“I’d wake you. I promise. The minute there’s any change.”

“No!” The word rang, Sinclair’s voice raspy. He shook his head as Bertie’s eyes widened. “When Maggie . . . Daisy . . . when she was ill, a nurse stayed with her. The nurse promised to wake me, and she didn’t. She thought it would be easier for me. But I didn’t . . . I didn’t even get to say good-bye.”

Sinclair’s voice broke and his eyes stung. He dragged in a shuddering breath, dismayed that it shook with sobs.

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