He blinked as he tried to focus on her face. Actually, he’d tried to choose death, but obviously God had other plans. He wasn’t arguing. If she were part of the plan, then he would be exceedingly grateful.
‘Don’t leave,’ he said. ‘I might die if you abandon me.’
‘See? Alive and well. You’re flirting again.’
‘You used to like it.’
She arched perfect brows at him. ‘Who said I don’t still?’
He looked at her. With his eyes focusing again, he saw changes in her. He’d made a study of her, so he noticed differences both small and large. They’d been apart for nearly two years, and he saw a new woman before him.
Her face was fuller now and her eyes seemed less haunted than before. She was no longer a curious rabbit who ran away if one moved too fast. She looked like a woman now, one who could fit into the highest reaches of society. But then he’d always seen the poise in her, even when she’d hung on his every word as he taught her English. He supposed the difference was that she no longer hung on his words as if he set the moon and the stars in the sky.
‘How long?’ he asked, forcing himself to focus. ‘Since Almack’s?’
‘Three days.’
He winced. Had she been by his side all that time? ‘Have you slept at all?’
Her expression softened. ‘You will oblige me now by eating. Cook took great pains with her soup. She would like more than stained bedsheets for thanks.’
He glanced at the bedsheets and noted the dark splotches. The sight sickened him. Why wasn’t he properly insensate so that he didn’t have to face the millions of tiny humiliations that came with illness?
A footman arrived with a tray of food. Honestly, he didn’t feel like he had the strength to eat. His body felt too heavy to move. And yet, when she gathered his hands in hers and pressed them to the sides of a small cup, he worked with her rather than against her. It was the least he could do to ease the problem he had become.
At last, he got that drink. Better yet, it was broth and she was holding his hands as if he were precious porcelain.
‘A little more, Cedric,’ she chided gently. ‘Drink a bit more.’
He did so because she wanted it. And when he finally collapsed back in exhaustion, she gently wiped the drips from his mouth.
He winced. Now he was a drooling fool when he had a beautiful woman in his bed.
‘It is only pride,’ she said softly. ‘Haven’t you had your full of it?’
‘Not pride,’ he murmured. He’d given that up long ago. He took a deep breath and gathered the strength to explain himself. ‘I had such high hopes.’
Everything he tried to do, everything he’d fought to accomplish for himself, for his sisters, even for his blighted parents, had ended up as wasted effort. He’d made good for Prinny and his other investors. He had that much. But his own profit was negligible. And now he could barely feed himself.
What was that except failure?
‘Heaven does not count our failures,’ she said. ‘Neither does love. Only pride keeps count. Pride measures win and loss. Arrogance points to success while misery dwells on loss. Have done with that, Cedric. Life cannot be measured on a balance sheet. And neither can you.’
Spoken like a woman with a full dowry and a brother-in-law who was a wealthy duke. He didn’t begrudge her that. He knewshe’d come from nothing. To be so cared for now was merely her due. She was worthy of such prosperity.
‘I meant to be worthy of you. To show your father that I could provide for you.’ He closed his eyes. He knew that no proper father would accept an impoverished man for his daughter.
Misery welled up inside him. He had worked so hard. He’d done everything right. He’d toiled until his hands bled. And then he’d worked at night with a quill until his vision swam.
‘Never mind,’ he heard her say. ‘You’ll see the truth of it when you’re feeling better.’
Or she would. When she had time to look at the books. When she could see what he had done while he had command of the ship. For a first-time captain, he hadn’t been so bad. But he hadn’t been great either and they’d lost so much in that storm.
At least Captain Banakos had survived his illness. The man was available for her next attempt. That, too, was a success. Cedric hadn’t sunk the ship while he’d been in command. Maybe that should be his epitaph:Here lies Cedric. He didn’t sink the ship.
She touched his hand, then stroked upwards to wrist and forearm. It was a casual gesture, done to pass the time as he fell asleep. And yet, it didn’t feel casual to him. He felt her caress like a balm on his soul. Failure he might be, but she was still here. She sat with him, helped him eat and even touched his sun-weathered skin.
His mind centred on that caress. He focused on it, he breathed with it and he used it to silence the misery that threatened to overwhelm him.
Could she be right? Could all his mistakes be the result of pride?
Absolutely not. His mistakes came from ignorance and greed. And from thinking he could outwit the weather.
And what was that but pride?
Oh hell. He couldn’t think anymore. It was too exhausting.
Thankfully, she began to sing. It was a Chinese song, one he had heard before with no understanding of its meaning. But that didn’t matter. He found it more pleasing because he had no idea what the words were. And because it was her who sang.
Finally, he slept.