Lord Thomas and his bride (The Duke's Brothers Book 3) by Fiona Miers (smallest ebook reader .TXT) 📗

His brow furrowed and his jaw clenched and although his heart raced in his chest, he remained composed.

With his mother, there was no other way.

REBECCA DREW IN A DEEP breath as Connie peeled the layers of wet fabric from her skin while a warm bath awaited her in her chambers. She still shivered but was feeling much better. Perhaps it was merely the initial trepidation of how her father would react if he knew what had happened.

She still felt very guilty that Thomas had taken full responsibility for what had happened and had been punished for it. Perhaps there was a way to convince her father to allow him to the townhouse again?

The bath was delightful and warm, and Rebecca’s shivers vanished completely as she slid beneath the water. She wasn’t sure how long she spent submerged, but when Connie approached with a robe, she knew it was time to climb out.

Getting dressed into dry clothing only took a short while as Connie assisted her, keeping a close eye on her. Rebecca did not appreciate the fuss, and she stepped away from her maid.

“When will lunch be ready, Connie?” she asked stiffly, her stomach clenching with hunger.

“It is being prepared, Miss. Your father insisted that I serve it here in your chambers. He wishes for you to rest as much as possible,” Connie answered.

“I do not need to rest. I must speak with him.”

“It is not to be negotiated, Miss,” Connie said. “Dr. Morton made that clear.”

Rebecca’s jaw dropped as Connie walked to the bed, folding the blanket to the side for her to climb under. She could not believe that her father was being so overprotective and unreasonable with her.

But as always, she did as she was told.

Hours later, Regbecca lay in her bed, staring at the ceiling, intense boredom washing over her. She hadn’t enjoyed her lunch in the solitude of her bedchambers, regardless of how delicious it was. The quiet and isolating air around her made the food taste bland, and she could not help but be filled with sorrow. She normally adored the peaceful feeling her bedchamber provided her when she required it, but it was no longer a haven of peace and harmony. It was now a prison to which she had been confined.

She wasn’t aware how much time had passed since Connie left with the empty tray, but her body ached from spending too much time in bed.

A knock on the door caused the boredom to be replaced with relief, but as soon as the door opened and her father came into view, anger replaced the relief. She turned to stare out the window, avoiding her father’s gaze. But much to her dismay, he sat on the edge of her bed.

“I was not certain whether you were sleeping,” he said.

“The silence is deafening, and I am unable to sleep because of it,” she said, quoting one of her more adored poets. She wasn’t certain whether her father recalled the poem, but it didn’t matter. Only its appropriation mattered.

“Nevertheless, you must rest, my dearest daughter,” her father said. “May I listen to your lungs?”

As much as she wished to argue that there was no need and that she was perfectly healthy, she nodded. She did not dare to rebel, as she knew her father would still be very much angered by what had happened.

Rebecca sat upright at his request and her father placed both his hands on her back, below her shoulders.

“Draw in three deep breaths, and slowly exhale,” her father said.

She did as she was told, slowly inhaling through her nose, and exhaling through her mouth as she had been taught by her father many years ago. Her father performed this test on all his patients, to see whether the two sides of the chest moved in a similar manner. He also listened closely for any abnormal sounds coming from the throat or the lungs.

“There is no wheezing, but it does not mean you may leave your chambers,” he said, quickly adding the last part of the phrase.

“Father, please. Boredom besieges me, and the quiet around me may cause me to lose my sanity.”

“Rather your sanity than your life,” he said under his breath as he shifted to the edge of the bed. “Now, tell me precisely what happened.”

“Did you not hear it from Thomas Melton? I heard you questioned him.”

“The irresponsible young man who put my daughter at risk? I have every right to question him,” Dr. Morton said. “Now, tell me.”

Rebecca sighed, but as always, did as her father requested. She went through the entire tale, from where the tides rose, to where she fell into the water and how Thomas had saved her.

Of course, she purposely neglected to tell her father about the kiss they shared. Her father had the tendency to exaggerate things, which was precisely why she did not wish to tell him of the kiss.

“The irresponsibility of Thomas Melton is lost upon me. I cannot fathom that a man can behave in such a way,” her father said softly, his tone filled with disapproval.

“Father, it was not Thomas’ fault that the water became turbulent and that I fell. I am a grown woman—”

“Who cannot swim, yet he insisted you join him on his excursion to death.”

Rebecca sighed at the theatrical demeanour and she shook her head. “He was not at fault. He rescued me from the water and kept me safe while waiting for the tide to lower. He risked his own life swimming across the water while I was carried by Marcus. There is no need to be hard on him.”

He ignored her words and lowered his gaze, his jaw tightly clenched. “You will remain in bed for the rest of the day.”

“Father, I—”

“I will instruct Connie to ensure you are given warm drinks on the hour, and that you are to be kept comfortable.”

“Father, I am feeling much better. Can I not move myself to the parlour, in front of the hearth? Surely