Realm 07 - A Touch of Honor by Regina Jeffers Page B

candle he had placed upon the table by the door. With the light, his eyes instinctively traveled to the wooden box draped in satin. “I am here, Baroness,” John said to drive away his trepidation.
    Keeping his eyes on the box, he undressed and then sat heavily upon the bed. “I hope you do not mind sharing the space; I am sorely in need of restorative sleep. I suppose you know Satiné has taken ill, and I have been tending her.”
    John stretched out upon the thin mattress as if he possessed no cares in the world, but his mind did not cooperate. “I doubt if you would have approved of my joining,” he said to the ceiling rather than to turn and look again upon the box. He held no idea why he spoke aloud to Lady Fiona’s of his marriage, but it felt right to do so. To tell his mother all the things he wished he could have said while she remained alive. “I knew when I married Satiné she did not hold me in deep regard, but I mean to win her affections. Just this evening, Satiné kissed me without my prompting a response.”
    John thought of the kiss he had shared with his wife. Initially, her actions had shocked him, but he had quickly accepted her forwardness as a token of her gratitude.
    Is it gratitude you wish, Johnathan? He heard his mother’s voice clearly ask.
    He turned upon his side to view the box’s position on the floor. “Of course, I desire more than gratitude,” he protested. “You of all people know how much I require love. It was the one thing you always denied me.”
    Am I to blame?
    John scrubbed his face with his right hand. “How am I to know who is to blame,” he said through exhaustion. “All I know is if I do not know love soon, I will never survive.”
    *
    And so the days had passed. Some evenings he spent the night in Satiné’s quarters. Other nights his mother kept him company, while Miss Neville had tended the baroness. As the lady had predicted Satiné had gotten worse before she turned for the better. His wife had taken a severe ague–the congestion most uncomfortable. It had taken more and more of the laudanum to keep her quiet and not to draw attention to their ruse. At one of the ports of call, he had disembarked to purchase more of the medicinal. It was the only means to provide Satiné relief.
    Finally, after nine days, her fever had broken, and natural color had returned to his wife’s cheeks. She had been most displeased when she realized the rash would peel. “When we reach England, I will require Gowland’s lotion to treat my skin properly,” Satiné had said with a snit. As he had made notice of his wife’s progress, her temperament had become more peevish. She disapproved of each comment John spoke. Reflexively, he had placed the blame purely on Satiné’s confinement to her quarters for such a long period.
    What bothered him the most was how Miss Neville had held herself aloof when they encountered each other. Since his wife had announced her approval of his keeping company with the baroness’s companion, Miss Neville had effectively avoided him beyond necessary conversation regarding Lady Satiné’s care.
    “Have I offended you, Miss Neville?” he asked when he cornered her upon deck, her once again tending to Rupert.
    She glanced at him oddly. “No, Sir.”
    He did not practice the role of diplomat, and hauteur appeared in his tone. “Yet, you have set yourself the task of shunning my company.”
    Miss Neville stared at him, astonished. “I…I have been preoccupied, Baron. Between the baroness and the child, my days are full.”
    “No more so than prior to the baroness’s statement that I should extend my protection to you.” His dark eyes sharpened.
    The lady cast a disdainful look in his direction. “You have chosen my lady, Sir. You have no need to think a responsibility toward her household servants beyond what is generally required. You pay me well, and I shall endeavor to perform admirably. Now, if you will excuse me, I should return the boy