Lady Ines Scandalous Hobby-Chapter 143 - Hundred And Forty Three

"Carcel?" Ines whispered.

He did not answer. He swayed on his feet, his large frame tilting forward like a falling tree.

Ines stepped forward just as his knees gave way. She braced herself, catching him by the waist. The impact nearly knocked the breath out of her. He was heavy—solid muscle and dead weight.

"Carcel!" she gasped, her arms wrapping around his torso to keep him from hitting the floor.

He slumped against her, his head dropping onto her shoulder. His cheek pressed against her neck, and Ines froze.

His skin was not just warm. It was hot. It radiated a terrifying, dry heat that seemed to burn through the thin fabric of her nightgown.

"You are burning up," Ines said, panic rising in her chest.

She pulled back slightly to look at him. His eyes were half-closed, glassy and unfocused. His face was flushed with an angry red color, a stark contrast to the pale exhaustion she had seen earlier.

She looked at his shirtsleeves. They were thin, damp with the London fog, and torn.

"Why did you come here without a coat?" she scolded, though her voice trembled. "You foolish, stubborn man. You rode through the cold wind in nothing but a shirt."

Carcel groaned low in his throat, a sound of discomfort that broke Ines’s heart.

"Bed," Ines decided. "I need to get you to the bed."

She looked at the distance. The bed was only ten feet away, but with Carcel leaning his entire weight on her, it felt like ten miles.

"Come on," she grunted, wrapping her arm tighter around his waist. "Work with me, Carcel. One step."

She dragged him. It was not graceful. She was just a lady of the ton, trained in dancing and embroidery, not in hauling full-grown men across a room. Her bare feet slipped on the floorboards. She pulled, he stumbled.

"Just a little further," she panted.

They reached the side of the bed. Ines turned him around and let him sink onto the mattress. He collapsed backward, his legs hanging off the edge, his head hitting the soft pillows with a soft thud.

Ines stood over him, breathing hard, her hands on her hips. She brushed a lock of hair out of her eyes.

"You are going to owe me a new back after this," she muttered.

She looked at his feet. He was wearing his tall riding boots. They were caked in thick, black mud. If he moved, he would ruin the silk coverlet.

"Boots off," Ines ordered herself.

She moved to the foot of the bed. She grabbed the heel of his left boot. It was slippery with mud. She pulled. It didn’t move.

"Stubborn boots for a stubborn man," she hissed.

She straddled his leg, turned her back to him, gripped the heel with both hands, and pulled with all her might.

Pop.

The boot slid off. Ines nearly flew forward but caught herself. She placed the muddy boot on the floor. She repeated the process with the right boot.

When both were off, she swung his legs onto the bed. She pulled the heavy duvet up to his chin, covering his shivering form.

Carcel turned his head into the pillow, muttering something unintelligible. He was shaking now—violent, racking shivers that made his teeth chatter.

Ines placed her hand on his forehead. It was like touching a stove.

"I need to cool him down," she whispered. "I need... I need medicine. I need water."

She spun around and ran out of the bedroom. She hurried down the dark hallway, her bare feet silent on the runner. She needed supplies.

She reached the kitchen. It was dark, illuminated only by the moonlight filtering through the high windows. The fire in the hearth had died down to embers.

Ines looked around helplessly. She had never cooked a meal in her life. She had never prepared a compress.

"What do I do?" she asked the empty room.

She opened a cupboard. She found a ceramic bowl.

"Edith always uses a bowl when I’m burning with fever," Ines recalled. She placed the bowl on the wooden table.

She stared at it.

"But does she put anything in the water?" Ines wondered aloud. "Is it just cold water? Or does she add vinegar? Or salt? Or... lemon?"

She bit her lip. She grabbed a pitcher of water and poured some into the bowl. It looked plain. It looked useless.

"What amount of water does she use?" Ines asked, staring at the liquid. "Do I soak the cloth? Do I wring it out? If I make it too cold, will he go into shock?"

Panic clawed at her throat. She did not know how to lower a fever. If she did it wrong, she could make him worse.

"I can’t guess," Ines decided. "I need Edith."

She abandoned the bowl on the table. She turned and ran toward the servants’ quarters.

This part of the house was different. The carpets were thinner, the air cooler. Ines didn’t care. She reached the door she knew was Edith’s.

She raised her hand and knocked.

Knock. Knock.

"Edith?" she called out, keeping her voice low so as not to wake the other servants.

There was a shuffle inside. The sound of a bed frame creaking. Then, slow footsteps.

The door opened a crack.

Edith stood there. She was wearing a simple nightcap and a plain cotton shift. Her eyes were puffy with sleep. She yawned, covering her mouth with her hand. She rubbed her eyes, trying to focus on the figure in the hallway.

"Yes, My Lady?" Edith said weakly. Her voice was thick with slumber.

Ines felt a pang of guilt. Edith had been up early this morning, and she had dealt with Ines’s rage all afternoon.

"I’m sorry for disturbing your sleep, Edith," Ines said, wringing her hands together. "I need your help."

Edith blinked. She leaned against the doorframe, still fighting the heaviness of her eyelids.

"What would you like me to do for you, My Lady?" Edith asked. She sounded like she was talking in a dream. "Do you need... more lemon water?"

Ines stepped closer. She looked left and right to ensure the hallway was empty. She leaned in until her lips were inches from Edith’s ear. 𝚏𝕣𝐞𝗲𝐰𝕖𝐛𝐧𝕠𝕧𝚎𝚕.𝐜𝚘𝗺

"Carcel is here," Ines whispered. "He’s in my room."