The Lord and his Lady (Forbidden #2)

Chapter Thirty One

But the words did not seem to ease the headache or the throb beside the sides of his head that prospered afterward. He sipped some water and made sure he did not sit with his stomach empty, but nothing helped. Instead of easing the disaster with Devonport, he had found himself involved.

"Lord, this is a mess," he muttered, rubbing both hands down his face. Beau still did not speak with him-he did not force the boy as the healing of a heartbreak was very long; his brother would be okay, he knew.

He propped himself up on his elbows when a knock resounded on his door; he had been laying in bed and he could only assume that it was Ashurst wanting to shine his boots or hand him his wear for the rest of the afternoon.

"It is Louise," she said, her gentle voice floating from the other side of the door.

His body eased and he sat fully up, flinging the blankets aside and moving to the edge of the bed. "Come in." She did, after a brief struggle, and he saw why once she had fully placed herself in her room. She held a tray with a teacup and a plate with two tarts. Lemon tarts, he confirmed as she walked near.

"I saw that you were troubled," she explained, slightly bashful. "As you mentioned lemon tarts to be your favourite when your foot was wounded, I believed it could help ease whatever is bothering you, my lord."

Speechless, Richard sat there like a tool. He hadn't even said a word and this woman knew the inner troubles that were plaguing him? He had always been one to hide his true feelings so well. How did she see through to him so easily?

She was about to move away but he reached out and grasped her upper arm gently, his own actions taking over before he could contemplate them. Miss Price's wide eyes rested on his face in clear question.

Richard could only gawk. He did not understand what had come over him enough to willingly stop Miss Price himself. He let go, and grimaced, touching the base of his neck with that hand to cool the burn which he felt in that palm.

"How is the reading coming along?" he asked, forcing a cheery smile on his face. He could not dismiss her after forcing her to stay. She placed the tray down beside him and rubbed at her arm, modestly directing her gaze at the carpet. He had made her uncomfortable. "That was unbecoming of me, Miss Price," he added, voice low. "I am not aware of what had come over me. I apologise."

Her eyes widened, as if she could not believe he was apologising. He chuckled. "Contrary to popular belief, those of us with noble backgrounds do apologise. We are not all with hearts of stone."

"I see," she mumbled. "But I am the one that should say sorry, my lord. I did not expect the contact is all." She licked her full purple-pink lips. "The reading is going well. How has the matter come along? Does it still plague you?"

"I daresay the matter may be fixed with my touch as I have so predicted."

The grin he put up did not cut through Miss Price's unabashed observation of him to the point he shifted in bed. Though he had expected her to question him, thankfully she did not.

"Lord Beau seemed to be aghast without your presence," she said instead.

"He feels amiss without his brother teasing him? I knew the boy would come around!"

Miss Price stifled a giggle. "I think he mostly wishes to ride Thunder again."

"That is a request not even a broken-hearted boy will have granted," he deadpanned.

She peered over the large, vertical window behind him and hummed. "It might be a little too late, my lord, for he may have already taken him out of his barn."