Page 55 of Miss Vincent’s Vow

“Jethro, do you want this soup or not?”

“Yes.”

“Then you’ll do it my way.”

He huffed, but opened his mouth as Cassandra leaned over, lifting the spoon toward him. Perhaps it was not so bad being fed, provided it was his wife feeding him. It was strangely intimate.

She removed the empty bowl and brought him a mug of steaming liquid.

He took one sniff and wrinkled his nose. “What’s that?”

“Camomile tea.”

“Take it away.”

Cassandra moved the cup closer, and he glared at her.

“I’m not drinking that. It smells foul.”

“It tastes better.”

“No. I want a tankard of ale. I’m thirsty.”

He steadfastly refused to open his mouth, and at length, Cassandra gave up.

“Shall I read to you?”

Jethro rolled his eyes. “I’m not in my dotage. Send Crowley in to see me.”

“No.”

“I need to speak to him. We’ve got an enormous shipment coming in tomorrow and—”

“Today, Jethro. The ship arrived this morning and Crowley has everything in hand.”

Jethro’s jaw dropped open. “I slept for two days?”

Cassandra nodded. “I was on the verge of sending for the doctor again when the fever broke. I delayed as long as I dared because I was certain he would ring a peal over my head for refusing to let him bleed you.”

Jethro threw aside the covers and put one foot on the floor when a small but firm hand pushed him back into bed.

“I need to get up, Cassandra. My business needs me.”

“I hate to contradict you, Jethro, but at this moment in time, it does not. Don’t you trust Mr Crowley?”

“Yes, but—”

“Do you?”

Jethro rubbed his hand across his forehead. “Yes, I trust him, but I’ve never left him in charge for so long before.”

“And yet, the shipment arrived and has been safely stowed in the warehouse without you lifting a finger.” She paused. “You must have trained your staff well. I asked Mr Crowley to bring me a full report. I can share it with you, if you insist, but I think it would be preferable if you trusted your manager to do what you employed him to do and concentrated on getting better.”

“Read the report. Please.”

Cassandra shook her head in despair and launched into Crowley’s account. He relaxed against the pillows as she read.

From under hooded eyes, he glanced up at his wife, who read the report as if it were the most interesting document on earth. Her mellow voice was pleasant to listen to—restful.