A Lady in Hiding by Amy Corwin

“Despite your insulting insinuations, neither do I.”

Chapter Six
    To William’s surprise, the Archers allowed him to remain. Lady Victoria sent up a tray with an entire roasted chicken, warm, yeasty bread, and a bowl of peas and new potatoes. Sarah Sanderson missed the elegant meal. She lay still and white as a corpse. Only the faint rise and fall of her narrow chest revealed that she still lived.
    Close to eleven, Archer stepped in for a moment.
    “Do you need any assistance?”
    “No. Thank you for dinner.”
    Archer waved his words away. “There’s a bed in the adjoining room.” He eyed William’s tightly fitting blue jacket. “Do you need a valet?”
    “I’ll stay here. It’s perfectly comfortable.”
    A rude snort greeted this preposterous remark. “Ring the bell if you change your mind,” Archer said before shutting the door again.
    By one, William wished he had considered Archer’s offer of a bed and a valet a little more seriously. Getting up, he paced the room, rotating his stiff shoulders and unwinding the neckcloth that threatened to strangle him. His movements must have disturbed Sarah, though. She moaned and moved her head, rolling over onto her side and laying one hand protectively on her soft cheek.
    The gesture wrenched his heart.
    When her breathing deepened again, William moved over to the bed. Restless in her sleep, her hand balled into a fist that she pressed against her mouth. Her brows drew down into a frown. She mumbled something unintelligible. He lightly touched her cheek, feeling the soft skin.
    No fever, just living warmth. And the tender skin of a woman.
    At his touch, she relaxed again, the frown slowly dissolving away.
    He quietly paced for a few more hours, occasionally going to the windows and staring at the house backing onto the Archer’s garden. All the windows in the townhouse opposite were dark as if it were deserted. He would have to check tomorrow, but he suspected it was for rent and stood empty. A convenient place for someone to spy on the Archers and the bricklayers they had hired.
    Finally, close to dawn, Sarah turned again in the bed. She kicked petulantly at the sheets. William drew up a chair and sat down close to the head of the bed.
    “God’s teeth!” she swore, pressing her hand against her forehead. She moaned before kicking the covers again as if they annoyed her. Her eyes flickered. She moaned even more loudly before letting lose a positive torrent of blue words.
    William’s brows rose at her impressive command of the vulgar tongue.
    Finally, she sat upright. She drew her knees up so she could rest her forehead against them. Then she curled her arms around her head.
    “Mr. Sanderson?” William asked gently, not wanting to frighten her.
    She raised her head and winced. “Who—what the devil are you doing here?” Then she glanced around before closing her eyes again. “Where am I?”
    “I’m afraid there’s been a bit of an accident.”
    “Accident?” One suspicious gray eye opened and peered at him over her bent elbow. “What sort of accident?”
    “A jug of water fell on your head.” His fingers fumbled with the flattened bullet in his pocket.
    She swore again and tried to get out of bed. Her feet no sooner hit the floor than she clutched her stomach. One hand flew to her temple.
    “My head!” she cried. “I’m going to be sick.”
    William grabbed the washbasin on a small table behind him. He thrust it into her hands. She cradled it in her lap, leaning over it, while her body trembled. Once or twice, she cleared her throat, but gradually, she seemed to bring her reaction under control.
    She lifted her head and stared at him. Her eyes were huge. The lashes were dark and spiked with sweat and tears.
    “What are you doing here?” she whispered.
    “I wanted to talk to you.” He kept his voice low, trying to listen for sounds of movement in the hallway.
    Despite his quiet words, she winched. She touched her fingers to her bandages