A Promise by Daylight. Alison DeLaine

them?”

      She swept the coins from the table into her hand, then dumped them into her coat pocket. “Your Grace has already assured me no such condition is currently present.”

      “No such condition has ever been present, Mr. Germain.”

      “Well, I certainly didn’t say anything about a pox. Or a rash.”

      “You told them I have a rash?”

      “I said I didn’t tell them that.”

      “I don’t have a rash!” he exploded, just as Harris came through the door. Harris paused, hesitating.

      “Mademoiselle Hélène is inquiring after her wrap,” he said.

      Millie spotted it on a chair in the corner and took it to Harris. “Please give Mademoiselle Hélène His Grace’s assurances that her wrap has not been contaminated with any rash.”

      “Assure the woman of nothing except my continuing regard,” the duke bit out sharply.

      “Naturally, Your Grace.” Harris bowed and left with the wrap.

      * * *

      HE OUGHT TO dismiss her.

      Winston stared at Miles Germain across his now-silent dressing room and contemplated his options—which, of course, were many.

      “Let us have one thing very clear between us, Mr. Germain,” he said now, not getting up from the sofa, but only because he didn’t want to. Not because his leg hurt like the devil and the beginnings of a headache throbbed behind his eyes. “You are here to administer medical care, by which I mean compresses and bandages and the like.”

      “Which will do little good if you do not follow my advice.”

      “If I want medical advice, Mr. Germain, I will ask for it.”

      And there was that line above her lip.

      Devil take it. He’d been doing perfectly well ten minutes ago. But now that everyone was gone, the day’s events—his entire life’s events—were returning to torment him with a vengeance.

      Attending that burial was a mistake. Ordering her to accompany him doubly so.

      “If I want to entertain guests, then I shall. Is that understood?”

      “Perfectly.”

      “Without interference of any kind.”

      “As you wish.”

      “And that, Mr. Germain, is something you’d best remember. As I wish. Not as you wish.” Yet even now he doubted her capacity to comprehend that basic reality.

      The question now was how best to undo the damage she’d done. By now the news of his rash—or whatever the bloody hell she’d told them—would have made its way to half the salons in Paris.

      He should dismiss her. And if her ministrations weren’t having an effect already, despite his disregarding her advice, he would dismiss her. But even a man as stubborn and reckless as he could tell that the switch from turpentine to whatever she was mixing was helping.

      He would have to hire a reputable physician to give him a clean report and then not so discreetly let it be known that the young Mr. Germain’s assessment had been mistaken.

      He rubbed his forehead, pinched the bridge of his nose.

      “Perhaps you ought to return to your bed,” she said now. And then, quickly—sarcastically?— “Forgive me. You’ll need to define ‘advice’ so that I understand very clearly what recommendations I am allowed and which I am not.”

      “Any recommendations pertaining to my choice of entertainment,” he ground out, “are strictly forbidden.”

      “Then advice to take to your bed, depending on the circumstances, may or may not...” She trailed off, furrowing her brows even as a spark of triumph in her eyes made it clear she was toying with him. Still. Now.

      Standing there in her bagwig and breeches, she probably fancied herself immune to seduction.

      If he were willing to show her his hand and reveal that he had seen through her disguise, it would take all of five minutes to prove to her she was mistaken. And then they would see about that advice to take to his bed.

      If he were willing to seduce a virgin. Which he was not.

      The reason why not snuck in like a cold draft on a winter day, carrying his vow with it, and now he pushed himself off the sofa, keeping a hand on its back for balance against a sudden light-headedness.

      “There’s been a change of plans,” he told her now, hearing himself as if listening to someone else.

      Consider your ways, Winston. It was the only thing Edward had ever asked in the face of Winston’s sin against him so many years ago.

      “We shan’t be traveling to Greece, but to my estate.”

      “Your estate.” Her words shot across the room.

      It was a ridiculous notion that wouldn’t change anything. The past was as immutable as the names on the headstones in that cemetery this morning. His sin against Edward—against Cara—could never be repaired.

      Denying himself would not change that.

      Keeping that ridiculous vow would not change it, either. And yet...

      “Yes.”

      “But the understanding was we would be traveling to Greece,” she said sharply.

      Her eyes shot daggers at him. And...fear? “Indeed, it was. But circumstances compel me to return to my estate instead. I will still require your services for the journey.”

      “But I can’t go to England.”

      “No?” he asked irritably. “Are you in exile?”

      She inhaled visibly. “What I meant to say was that I did not expect to go to England and I do not wish to go to England.”

      “Much, perhaps, as I did not expect or wish for my medic to drive away my acquaintances by implying I am a threat to their health.”

      She took a few anxious steps forward. “I shall tell them all I was mistaken. That I lied, even.”

      Her sudden turn toward desperation was fascinating. “I haven’t changed my plans because of that, Mr. Germain.”

      “Then why?”

      Why, indeed. In those moments on the street, when a piece of that building could have fallen and smashed his own skull, he hadn’t actually made a promise to Edward. Hadn’t made a promise to anyone. They were just words, uttered in a moment of terror.

      By God, I’ll do it!

      It was more an oath than a promise, anyway. But he’d made a decision about Greece, and he would probably regret it, but it bloody well wasn’t Miles Germain’s place to question him. By withdrawing to his estate, removing himself from temptation, perhaps he would miraculously become the man Edward wanted him to be.

      “Was there a reason you had hoped to go to Greece?” he asked.

      “Not at all,” she said quickly. It was obviously a lie. He watched her thinking, contemplating the change of events, weighing her options—which, if he didn’t miss his guess, were few.

      He already knew she was hungry for the wages from his employment. But her counting on Greece, as well...

      Mattered not one whit to him.

      “The journey to Greece would have been much longer than a simple jaunt to England,” she pointed out now. “The change will have an effect on my wages.”

      “You needn’t fear for your wages,” he told her. “I intend to keep you in my employ at my estate until I make a full recovery, at which time you will be free to travel anywhere