There was a discreet tap on the door, and then the viscount was with them, looking refreshed and ready for his day.

“Good morning, Mrs. Seaton, or might I call you Anna?” he asked. “And good morning, Westhaven.” He laid his hand on the earl’s forehead and frowned. “Better than I thought you might be.”

He shooed off Anna to Gwen’s company, leaving the men alone.

“How is it,” Douglas asked his patient, “your fever responds only to her touch, hmm?”

“Shut up,” the earl replied tiredly. “She put something in the water, if you must know. I think it helps.”

By the time Douglas had clean sheets on the bed and Westhaven extracted from his morning bath, the patient was once again growing drowsy. Douglas forced more willow bark tea down the hapless earl’s gullet, tucked him in, and left him dozing peacefully beside his borrowed guardian bear.

The next day was a mosaic of little activities and naps. Val sent out a note saying he’d visit shortly, Westhaven penned a note to His Grace, explaining that he was making a visit to Rose at Welbourne. Rose did visit her uncle, but Westhaven invariably found that fifteen minutes into any task or visit, he needed to either use the chamber pot or to nap or both.