14 August 1815
Day 5 of desire and Torture
Adelaide woke to a terrible clanging in her head. She groaned and tried to lift the pillow to cover her head. But the movement made it worse, and her arm felt like lead so she couldn't even lift her bedcovers to bury her head in it.
"Are you finally awake, Miss Kendall?"
Adelaide cracked open an eyelid to see that Betsey had popped her head through the doorway that separated the sitting area from the bedroom. "Betsey." She croaked. "Why does my head hurt?"
She bustled in, a tray table with tea and toast in her hands. Setting it down by the table, she assisted Adelaide to sit up before laying the tray table over her knees. "Here, some hot tea first, for your aching head." She handed Adelaide a cup. "Then some plain toast after. You'll feel much better after that."
The first sip of the piping hot tea did indeed settle her jumpy stomach. After a few more sips, she felt invigorated enough to talk. "What happened last night? Why does my head hurt?"
"You'd drunk too much, Miss Kendall." Betsey shook her head. "You could hardly walk. One of the footman might has well have carried up to your room seeing as how you were stumbling this way and that up the stairs."
Adelaide nibbled on a bit of toast. "I don't remember. Did Mama say anything?"
"She said you were fortunate that it'd been Mr Wyndham who noticed you were drunk and not some other man who might have taken advantage of your inebriated state to make untoward advances on your person."
Adelaide clenched the neck of her nightgown. "Mr Wyndham?" Apparently too much drink had a deleterious effect on her memory for she recalled nothing of their encounter. Apart from remembering that she'd been caught ogling by said man and having a glass of something, the rest of the night was a blank.
"Aye. He did come by to ask after you."
"When?" She winced at the sudden sharp sound and movement she made. "When?" She asked again, softer this time.
"Maybe about a half hour ago? He said you weren't at breakfast and he wondered how you were."
She cast her eyes about her the clock, fighting nausea from turning her head too fast. A quarter past eleven! She wanted to fling back the covers and jump out of bed but her spinning head had her sinking back down onto the bed, her head in one hand. "I think I'd need a bit more of a lie-down. Can you send a note to Mr Wyndham to tell him I'm recovered and to please meet me in the library after luncheon at two?"
Philip stood by the door, not fully within the library yet not out, and leaned against the doorframe, taking a moment to observe her in her quiet element. He hadn't yet the opportunity — or pleasure — to observe her like this without her knowing.
Her legs were tucked under her, and she was twirling loose strands of her hair that fallen out of her chignon in her finger, in a girlish act he wouldn't typically associate with her.
She giggled suddenly, and the sound caught him off guard. The familiar sensation of desire that he associated with her rose with him and he shifted slightly to release the uncomfortable pressure in his loins. The shift made the wood creak and her head lifted at the noise.
"Mr Wyndham." He heard the start in her voice, but she got to her feet calmly, placing the heavy book on the seat. "You have come."
"Yes." He pushed away from the door. "Your note said to meet you here. Is anything the matter?"
"I...that is to say..." She took in a deep breath. "I wanted to ask what happened last night." Her words came out in a rush.
"You will have to be a bit more specific about which part of last night you're referring to."
"Betsey told me that Mama said it was you who'd informed her I was drunk." She held her hands in front of her, and he noticed her fingers twisting themselves. "I was wondering if you could tell me how I came to be..."
"Roaring drunk?" She nodded and he shrugged. He'd decided this morning that if she were to ask, he'd feign ignorance. "I'm afraid I'm unaware of the details. I happen to stumble upon you quite inebriated and in danger of falling down or tripping over something. So, I rescued you."
The word 'rescue' did strange things to her chest, but she didn't know why. "I see." She let out a breath. "Well then." There was an uncomfortable silence in which he felt the sound of their breathing was as loud as the cannons firing, and he missed the easy camaraderie he felt the last few days. It seemed after one forgotten kiss, they were back to stilted conversations. "You must be wanting the use of the library. I will just leave you to it then." She started forward but must have forgotten about the books lying around her for she banged her shin against one stack.
As the books fell, so did she, and she landed in an awkward heap with the scattered books beneath her.
A second before the accident happened, Philip knew what would happen. However, he was too late to warn her and as he moved towards her, he watched in horror as she fell down.
"Miss Kendall!" He knelt in front of her, wrapping his hand around her slender upper arm to help her sit upright. "Are you hurt?" She shook her head. "Here, let me help you."
Waving his offer away, she tried to stand but crumpled before she achieved her goal, letting out a small yelp. Her hand instinctively went to grip her right ankle and he realised she must have twisted it when she fell down.
"I think you may have hurt your ankle." He pushed the books away from her. Once she was in a comfortable position, he moved so he was in front of her injured ankle, his hands hovering over it. "May I?"
She hesitated, biting her lip. He wondered if she would refuse and he tried to formulate a plan to persuade her, but it turned out to be unnecessary for she nodded her head.
He cupped one hand under her ankle and lifted it slightly off the rug. "If anything I do causes you pain, you must tell me. Remaining silent will do you more harm." He looked directly into her eyes so that she would know he wasn't jesting. "Please."
"Yes, I will."
"I'm going to slowly rotate your ankle. If you feel even the slightest of twinges, stop me." As he spoke, he moved her foot, while looking at her face to deter any changes in her expressions. He could see that she was bracing herself for pain while staring at what he was doing.
Suddenly, her entire body tensed and she sucked in sharply. Immediately, he stopped what he was doing. "Does it hurt?"
She nodded. With his left hand still cupping her trim ankle, he moved his hand this way, squeezing gently. He felt the slight swell beneath the pads of his fingers at the same moment she gasped in pain.
Gently, he lowered her leg. "It does seem like you have a sprained ankle. I will get a footman to me bring the necessary items to ease the pain and remedy it."
"No! No," she continued in a softer tone. "I don't wish to impose on you. I'm perfectly fine. I can walk now." She attempted to prove her words right. Pushing herself up, she somehow managed a standing position, and smiled at him though he could see the grimace beneath. "You don't have to-" The rest of her sentence was cut off when she attempted to take a step forward on her bad ankle and she pitched forward.
He caught her in his arms, and frowned at her. "Miss Kendall, I must insist-" She looked up at him then and he was suddenly aware of how close they were standing. It was almost an embrace. He could see little lighter flecks scattered within the deep blue of her eyes, and every eyelash surrounding them.
His gaze dropped to the little bulb at the end of her nose, and beneath it, her pink bow-shaped lips that were slightly parted and slightly moist.
The need to kiss her nearly overwhelmed his senses, and it could be easily accomplished for he just needed to lean slightly forward and he would get his prize.
He glanced up again, and he saw her eyes heavy with desire, reminding him of what happened last night. And all the days before. At once, he knew he wouldn't be able to stop himself and he swooped down to touch his lips to hers.
The first brush sent a tremble down his spine as much as it bolstered his desire for her. She tasted just he remembered. The second nearly brought him to his knees because he felt the slightest of pressures of her own lips against his.
The hand he had around her waist tightened to pull her closer to him so he could capture her lips more fully in his. But a muffled bang pierced through the haze of their desire for she pushed him away the same moment he realised his intent.
"I-"
"My-"
He stepped back as she did — or tried to — but her stumble effectively silenced them so he kept his arm around her waist. "Here let me settle you into a chair first." In one smooth movement, he looped her arm around his neck and bent down to lift her knees up so he cradled her in his arms. "It is easier this way." He only said by way of explanation as he took a few steps to the nearest chair that was free from books scattered around it. He deposited her on the chair, bowed and took his leave with a gruffly delivered instruction "do not leave this seat until I return" thrown over his shoulder as he strode away.
He thought about locating a bell pull to summon a footman but thought it easier to head to the kitchen himself to get some ice and cloth for he knew his way around the house.
As he descended the stairs, he swore he could still detect a faint fragrance of lemon that was Miss Kendall's scent.
After Wyndham departed from the library, Adelaide let out the breath she didn't know she'd been holding. Taking a few quick breaths to replace the air she couldn't seem to get enough of, she fanned herself vigorously with her hand as it seemed to have grown rather warm in the few minutes where everything happened.
She couldn't seem to rein in her scattered thoughts and turbulent emotions. Like a boat caught in a storm, her insides felt like they were tossed around in every direction possible.
Wyndham had kissed her. He who had been the voice of reason the other night and had stopped anything untoward from happening.
Yet, he'd been the one to initiate the kiss today. In broad daylight no less.
Her fingers lifted involuntarily to her lips and she could still feel them tingling from the contact with his. It'd been but a fleeting caress, yet it evoked a myriad of sensations from her head to her toes. And a sense of familiarity, as if she'd done it before, though that was impossible.
And when he carried her with nary a grunt or display of exertion, her heart had careened wildly inside her chest. She'd felt his firm chest and stomach pressed against her side and the arm around his neck had felt the silky brush of the tips of his brown hair and the hard muscles of his shoulders.
When she was eleven, the girlish fantasies she had conjured in her mind when she first saw him included him carrying her like this. She remembered now that she'd concocted a hundred different scenarios that could happen and that he'd be in the right place to rescue her in this manner.
Falling from her seat from her mount into his waiting arms.
Stumbling down the last few steps into his waiting arms.
Missing a step on a library ladder and falling into his waiting arms.
Revisiting these faded memories made her feel a little silly and embarrassed, and she shook her head to clear them. But a sense of a buried memory still lingered.
It nagged her but she couldn't recall what it was that she'd forgotten.
She pressed her lips together as she looked at the scattered books on the floor. It'd been terribly clumsy of her to fall down over a stack of books. She wondered how Wyndham viewed her now.
A clumsy, bookish miss?
A drowned rat?
Or someone that he desired?
The last was surely impossible because he'd rejected her veiled attempt to spend more time with him.
A dark thought rose. What if he kissed her because she was conveniently in his arms? She'd seen him get along well with the other female guests, including Frederica. What if he were a consummate flirt and she but one of the many who he thought he could easily charm?
She bit her lip. Had she forgotten her promise to herself? Had she played herself the fool by once again falling under his spell?
The creaking of the wooden panels had her lifting her head and she saw him enter with a footman behind him carrying a bucket and a towel. In his hand were strips of cream-coloured cloth.
The footman set the vessel at her feet and laid the towel on the armrest of her chair before taking his leave. She peered into it and saw chunks of ice in the water. "Why have you brought water and ice?"
Wyndham knelt at her feet. "We'd need to soak your ankle in cold water for some minutes to reduce the swelling before I bandage it." He lifted the cloth in his hand. "Would you like some assistance to remove your shoe?"
"Thank you for the offer but I shall manage." She couldn't stop the coldness in her voice for she didn't want him touching her again. Should her suspicions be right, she wanted no part of her being to have been tainted by him.
Leaning forward, she gently removed her shoe and would have dipped her stocking foot into the bucket had he not stop her with a warm hand on her calf. "You'd have to remove your stocking, lest the water be soaked into it and your dress be wet and ruined and your entire leg chilled."
"M-my stocking?" Removing that was as intimate an act as kissing him. Did he want to continue taking liberties with her person?
He nodded before standing up. "I will turn around so my back faces you while you remove it and will not look until your foot is in the water."
She bit her lip in hesitation. "Are you quite certain I have to remove my stocking?"
"I would highly recommend it, yes." She was unconvinced. "You have my word I will not look."
Only then did she nod. "Turn around please."
He did as she bade and he took out his fob watch. "If you could inform me once your ankle is submerged in the water, I will be able to accurately tell you when you might stop." And he hoped it would prove a distraction from more wayward thoughts.
Despite his unwavering gaze on ticking of the second hand of the watch, the rustling of cloth and creaking of the wood as she shifted in her chair proved too much for his imagination.
Unwanted thoughts of her sliding up the hem to bare the garter at her thigh, the untying of the ribbon that would hold it up, the rolling of the silk down her shapely calf and her trim ankle, the gleam of her milky white skin to the world crashed into his head and he was helpless to stop the onslaught of desire surging through him.
He felt upended, the sensations similar to the feeling of tumbling off the steps of the carriage after a night of carousing and drinking. He felt his breeches grow a bit tighter.
"It is freezing!" The squeak jolted him from his haze of desire. "Must the water be this cold?" Her disgruntled tone made him smile a little.
"Yes. It would help the swelling to go down, and numb the pain."
A sharp inhale followed by a hiss and the sound of the water lapping against the side of the bucket told him that she'd put her foot in. He glanced at his watch, noted the time. "It is like eating ices with your foot. A much less pleasant sensation but quite similar, would you agree, Miss Kendall?"
She let out an unladylike snort at his words. "Eating ices with your foot indeed. Would you happen to know much about that subject, Mr Wyndham?"
"Everything, actually. I've had the unfortunate experience of being in the same position as you are in now. When an army doctor treated my bare foot by plunging it into an icy river in the dead of winter with not so much as a 'by your leave', I had to swallow my manly bellow of pain by comparing it to eating ices with my foot."
He heard a soft snigger and he smiled, though she couldn't see it. "So, would you agree with my words, Miss Kendall? Is it not as I have described?"
Some silence followed. "I suppose the first shock of the cold is comparable. However, there is nothing of the sweetness that follows after to make the entire experience particularly pleasing."
"Only because the water in the bucket isn't sweetened. I reckon that if I asked Cook for a bit of honey and sweet berries to mix into the water, you might have a more pleasant time. I know I would. In fact, I can almost taste it."
A few beats of silence again in which he could sense the confusion on her part as she wondered if he was being serious. He pressed his lips together to hold back his laughter.
"Are you funning me?" He could feel her narrowed gaze piercing his back and his mirth increased.
"I-" A stray laugh escaped which he quickly covered with a cough. "No, I'm not. Here, let me ring a footman to bring some sweetmeats from the kitchen so we can drop it into the water. I think I saw a stray peppermint stick or two somewhere just now." He strode to the bell pull located in the corner in front of him and gave it a yank. From where he stood in the corner, he threw over his shoulder. "You will thank me later, once your foot is able to taste the peppermint and sugar."
"You're surely jesting now, Mr Wyndham. Everyone knows one's foot can't taste anything."
"Has anyone of your acquaintance tried it? It is a rather interesting experience. I daresay the foot is better at distinguishing flavours than one's tongue."
An incredulous laugh echoed in the space behind him and he grinned. "Mr Wyndham, is that what your time in Cambridge has taught you?"
"No, Eton taught me that."
"Eton you say. I'd have to ask my brother if he learnt the same thing." She continued chuckling and he joined in.
"I'm glad I've distracted you sufficiently from the pain and the cold."
"Is that why you concocted that ridiculous story about eating ices with your foot and using it as a barometer of flavour?"
"That is most definitely true, I assure you, Miss Kendall."
He could almost hear her shaking her head at him. "And if I prove you wrong? What then will you do?"
"I will graciously concede defeat, of course. It is only the gentlemanly thing to do."
"Indeed."
A minute of silence went by. "How much longer must I have my foot soaking in this cold water? I fear that my limb is numb. I can hardly feel my toes. Or the rest of my foot for that matter."
He checked his watch. "Another five minutes should suffice. How do you suggest we pass this interlude?"
More silence ensued. He counted his breaths. When he thought he might have to raise a topic, he suddenly heard her ask quietly, "Are you in the habit of kissing unmarried ladies?"
Her question caught him unawares. "I..." He swallowed. "No, I'm not."
"Why did you kiss me then?"
How was he to answer her? A gentleman couldn't be honest about his lust for a lady, not unless he was intending to marry her. So, he said the only thing he could, "I shouldn't have. It wasn't well done of me. I apologise."
"You must think my questions ridiculous." Her arched tone disturbed him. "A genteel lady's education does not include kissing or desire or any of that sort. It only contains the learning of various languages, the playing of the pianoforte, dancing, deportment, and needlework. Perhaps a bit of watercolour. Some riding but only with a side saddle and never astride. All skills society deems a woman must have to land herself a husband.
"Certainly she isn't taught that improving her mind through reading is important. Or that caring for others who aren't as fortunate would improve the well-being of society in general. If everyone realised this idea and embrace it, a lady wouldn't be treated like a social pariah and made to feel deficient just because she thinks differently from everyone else."
Her impassioned speech brought to mind what Miss Blackmore shared with him. And what he witnessed two mornings ago. He could see why everyone would find her — as Miss Blackmore put it — odd.
"Were you made to feel deficient, Miss Kendall?"
"What? No, I..." She trailed off and he had his answer.
His fingers tightened around his watch and he took a deep breath to suppress the anger he felt at what the ton must have said to her. "We've reached the five-minute mark." His tone was even. "You may remove your foot and dry it before donning your stocking."
The sounds of splashing of water was followed by a rigorous towelling and the soft glide of silk. "When you are dressed, tell me so I can turn around to bandage your ankle."
A bit more swishing and then she said, "You may turn around now, Mr Wyndham."
He strode to where she was and moved the bucket. "Will you give me leave to help you with your ankle?"
"You may do as you see fit, sir."
He nodded and knelt down to gently grasp her right ankle. "The soaking has helped to reduce the swelling. I'm glad about that." He lifted her ankle slightly and placed a bent thigh underneath it so it was elevated. She gasped a little at the sensation and he agreed silently that the pressure of her foot on his thigh was a very strange feeling, though definitely not unpleasant, despite the slight chill because of the water.
He proceeded to wrap the longest strip of cloth around her ankle. "I greatly admire your spirit, Miss Kendall. And your philosophy." The deft movement of his hands punctuated his words. "Miss Blackmore claimed that she and you are the oddities of the ton. I told her I beg to differ. There is nothing odd about you, Miss Kendall." He looked up at her then. "You're not alone in your oddness for I daresay we're all odd in our own little way."
Her eyes darkened at that statement and he could detect a softening of her posture, as if she no longer felt the need to guard herself against the possibility that he'd condemn her ideas. At that moment, he felt like they'd reforged an unspoken bond of sorts, and an unknown pressure grew in his chest.
Uneasy at everything he was feeling, he dropped his gaze back to her ankle and resumed his work silently.
The silence remained while he finished up. When he was done, he removed her foot from his thigh and placed it on the rug before standing. "Best refrain from walking the next couple of days. And definitely no dancing. You will be right as rain soon enough."
"Thank you, Mr Wyndham." She moved to get up but he stayed her with a hand on her arm. "Right. Yes. I-"
"Adelaide! Are you all right?" They both turned to see her mother fly into the room, a footman striding in after. She stopped by the chair, looking up and down to check for injuries. "What happened?"
"I'm perfectly fine, Mama." She sent an almost imperceptible shake of her head in his direction. Do not say a word, she mouthed.
"Is she?" Lady Healey looked at him.
He stared at Adelaide for a beat before turning his attention to her mother. "A small sprain in her ankle." He could feel her glare at him, but he ignored her.
"Oh dear! We'd best fetch the doctor to take a look."
"If you wish, my lady. But I don't think we will need the good doctor's help today. I've experienced a sprain or two and the treatment I've administered is what the army doctor did for me when I was similarly injured."
"Yes, I'm perfectly fine, Mama." She sent a pleading look in her mother's direction. "No doctor. And no bloodletting necessary. Really."
Philip thought the viscountess looked like she mightn't give in. "All right then. Thank you, Wyndham, for your help." She reached across to lay a grateful hand on his arm. "I'm glad my daughter has been left in your capable hands. I'm certain she will reward you with a dance tomorrow evening, during the ball."
"I would if I'm allowed to dance but Mr Wyndham here specifically said not to dance. Or even walk." He didn't miss the gleeful tone that was barely masked. "I shall have to be left alone here the entire time until I recover. I know the library will suit me well."
"Is that right, Wyndham?" The older woman frowned at him. "No dancing or walking? At all?"
Out of the corner of his eye, he spied her pleading look, though it was directed at him this time. He coughed. "It would be advisable that she refrain from using her foot too much. Dancing is quite out of the question. Walking within the house is still acceptable but certainly not for long strolls outside. She just needs a bit more rest than usual."
Lady Healey sighed. "Are you absolutely sure?" He nodded and she let out another sigh. "I suppose there's nothing else to be done since you refused to have the doctor look at you."
She reached for Adelaide's hand and squeezed it gently. "But I can't very well leave you here in the library night and day! Where will you sleep?" She didn't wait for an answer from her daughter. "Besides, there are still the formal dinners we're having and all sorts of other activities planned. You can still participate in them. We'll just have one of the footmen carry you to wherever you need to be."
"Mama-"
"Fetch John," she instructed the footman standing at the door before turning back to her daughter. "No, Adelaide. I draw the line at allowing you to remain in your room the entire time during the house party." Her tone brooked no arguments and Adelaide wisely fell silent.
Philip seized the opportunity to make his exit. "If you have no further need for me, my lady, I will take my leave now."
"Yes, of course. We will see you at dinner tonight."