Betrayal. Georgina Devon
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Chapter Two
Pippa stopped flat. Her patient was awake and alert, his gaze fixed on her. Taking a steadying breath, she stepped into the room and closed the door behind her.
His cheekbones were rouged with fever or exertion, but his eyes were aware and intelligent. ‘Who are you? Where am I?’ he demanded in the tones of one used to being obeyed.
She smiled in spite of herself even as she bristled at his order. He reminded her much of Philip, her twin. Moving to the bed, she said, ‘My name is Pippen LeClaire, and you are in my room.’ At his frown, she added, ‘No one knows who you are, and I am the only one with room for you. I could not leave you in the street or have you taken to the hospital with the other wounded.’
The scowl faded from his face when she laid the back of her hand lightly on his forehead to feel for fever. He had none.
‘Then I have much to be grateful to you for. And my name is Deverell St Simon.’ His brow furrowed again, and his eyes took on a faraway look before coming sharply back to her face. ‘Are you the lad who saved my leg from amputation?’
She nodded.
‘Then I owe you my life,’ he said gravely. ‘I would not have wished to live a cripple.’
‘You owe me nothing,’ Pippa said hastily, feeling uncomfortable at his solemnity. ‘I am a healer and helping others is something I must do. Besides,’ she said as matter-of-factly as possible while her heart pounded in discomfort, for she had known exactly how he would feel and that scared her. ‘You will never move comfortably and most likely that leg will plague you until you die.’
He attempted a shrug that made him grimace. ‘Much better than wearing a wooden peg.’
Pippa, seeing the stubborn set of his jaw, forbore comment and hoped fervently that he would continue to think so. ‘You have been unconscious and delirious for nearly a fortnight and must be ready to eat a feast. If you will lay quietly, I will ask the landlady for some gruel.’
‘I won’t eat pap!’
Instead of arguing, which she knew from past experience with her twin would be fruitless and only end in a fight, Pippa turned away and left the room. He was weak enough and hungry enough that he would eventually eat whatever she brought him.
Dev watched the youth leave. The boy had an odd feminine look about him, with a face that was free of beard and hips that were a trifle too wide for his shoulders and moved a tad too much for masculine purpose. Pippen reminded him of the woman he had seen in his delirium—a ridiculous thought.
Exhaustion ate at him. Sighing, he fell back on to the cushions and told himself Pippen could not help that he was made the way he was. It was not as though the lad was the only man ever born with more female traits than was good.
Dev promptly fell into a restless half-sleep where cannon and musket shot echoed in his ears, and the stench of burning flesh swamped his nostrils.
A short time later Pippa re-entered the room with a tray. Warm tea and a steaming bowl of beef-flavoured gruel would do wonders for her invalid.
Putting the tray on a nearby table, she saw her patient—Deverell St Simon, she told herself—had slipped back into a troubled sleep. Sweat dotted his brow and his hands clenched the sheet in bunches. The urge to soothe him was as overpowering as it was bewildering. All her life she had felt the need to help others, but never had the desire to care for another made her body shake. Why, she knew nothing about this man except his name, and that meant nothing to her.
She took a controlling breath and laid a hand on his shoulder. He jolted awake.
‘Who—?’ He broke off, his eyes wide, his body jerking upward. ‘Angel?’
His eyes searched her face, bringing a blush of awareness as his attention lingered on her mouth before sliding down to where her breasts would be if she had not bound them.
Pippa pushed him gently down on the pillows. ‘Calm yourself,’ she murmured. “Tis only me, Pip—Pippen.’ She had almost said her own name, she was sure because of his blatant regard. She must be more careful, constantly on guard. It would not be easy. ‘I have brought you some food.’
His eyes lost their startled look and his gaze fell away from her face. Some of the tension left his body. ‘For a moment I thought you were someone else. A…a woman.’
Pippa kept her countenance smooth, showing only mild interest. ‘What would a woman be doing in here?’
He turned away. ‘I don’t know. I thought a green-eyed lady cared for me while I was unconscious.’ He looked back at Pippa. ‘She had your face. Only I would swear, she had the sweet curves of a female.’ He sighed. ‘But enough of daydreaming. Right now I could eat the landlady’s entire larder.’
Pippa chuckled, letting the relief she felt at his change of topic ease the tightness that had mounted in her shoulders during his talk of a strange woman. He was remembering the time she had sponged him. ‘You will eat lightly. I don’t want you throwing everything up no sooner than you get it down.’
He grimaced.
Pippa put her fists on her hips, feet shoulder width apart, and looked at him. Belatedly she realized what she was doing. The pose was natural with her when dealing with her brother, and invariably it put her twin’s back up. It would probably do the same to her patient.
With a sigh at her own mishandling of the situation, she quickly sat down on the only stool the room had and ladled up some of the gruel. She put the spoon to his lips. Instead of opening his mouth, his nose wrinkled in disgust and he scowled at her.
‘Please,’ she said. ‘You need food to get well, and you need food that is easy on your digestion. Later, when you are better and your stomach can handle mutton, I will allow you a complete meal.’ When his face softened, she added the clincher, ‘I don’t have the time or energy to care for you longer than necessary. I’m already late for my shift at the hospital.’
She watched his countenance as irritation warred with consideration. Consideration won. Pippa had been right about the way to handle him. It was the way she would have dealt with her twin.
Dev swallowed the gruel quickly, and Pippa was sure that if he had the energy and the bad manners, he would pinch his nose closed. Afterwards, she sponged off his face as professionally as she could when his nearness made her stomach knot. That finished, she tucked the covers around his chest to protect him from a draught.
Her face flamed at the familiarity of the gesture and the feel of his muscled shoulders under her fingers. It was a relief to turn away and prepare a draught.
‘Take this,’ she said, pivoting back and tipping the glass to his lips.
‘I’m not an invalid,’ he groused, wrapping the fingers of one hand around the glass Pippa still held.
Mind-startling awareness travelled from where they touched to explode in Pippa’s chest. She stepped abruptly away and chattered, ‘The drink is laudanum for sleep and pain and bark for the fever and inflammation. When I return, I will change your dressing, but ‘twill not be until late tonight. If you need anything, ring this bell and the landlady will come.’ She laid a brass bell with wooden handle by the bed.
‘Thank you,’ he said solemnly. ‘I won’t ever forget what I owe you.’
“Tis nothing,’ Pippa mumbled, grabbing up her coat and heading for the safety of the hospital.
The less time she spent in her handsome patient’s company now that he was awake, the better for her peace of mind. She was here in Brussels to find her twin, not get herself embroiled with a man who might be anyone. But even if he was the Prince Regent himself—which he wasn’t because he was much thinner than that corpulent royal—she would not be interested. She was going to dedicate her life to healing.
Best, when she returned, to find out if he had