Mastered by Love (Bastion Club 8)

“I’m not likely to take a fatal chill from a dip in the river.” He tried to slow to a fast walk.

She set her jaw and all but hauled him on. “You’re not a doctor—you can’t know that. The prescribed treatment for immersion in an icy river is a hot bath, and that’s what you have to have. Your mother would never forgive me if I let you expire because you wouldn’t treat the risk with due seriousness.”

His mother, who had never wasted a moment worrying about his health. Male Variseys were supposed to be tough, and, indeed, were. But he bowed to Minerva’s tugging and resumed his faster pace. “I am taking this seriously.”

Just not as seriously as she was.

Or, as it transpired, any of his staff were.

The instant Minerva pushed him through the door into the north wing, Trevor pounced.

“No!” His valet was literally aghast. “That’s another pair of Hobys ruined—two pairs in three days. And, oh, my heavens! You’re drenched!”

He refrained from saying he knew. “Is my bath ready?”

“It better be.” Trevor exchanged a look with Minerva, still by Royce’s side, still hurrying him along. “I’ll go up and make sure.” Trevor turned and all but fled before them, his footsteps clattering up the turret stairs.

Royce and Minerva followed, taking the shortcut to his rooms.

Minerva halted outside his sitting room door; he kept walking, to the useful new door into his dressing room and the bathing chamber beyond that Hancock, the castle carpenter, was just testing.

Hancock nodded. “Your new door as ordered, Your Grace. Just in time, it seems.” Hancock swung the panel wide. “Your bath awaits.”

Royce nodded. “Thank you.” He looked over the door and its frame as he went through into the dressing room, then nodded again to Hancock. “That’s exactly what I wanted.”

Hancock saluted, picked up his toolbox, and walked off. Minerva appeared in the doorway—mouth a-cock, staring at the door, then at its frame. Then she looked at Royce.

“So Trevor and the footmen don’t need to come through the bedroom to reach these rooms.”

“Oh.” She stood there, digesting that, while he started the difficult task of unwinding his sodden cravat.

Trevor appeared in the open doorway opposite, from which steam eddied as a footman poured what had to be a last pail of steaming water into the large bath; if any more was put in, it would slosh out when Royce got in. He signaled to the footman to stop.

His valet, meanwhile, was frowning at two glass-stoppered bottles he was holding. “Which would be better? Mint or peppermint?”

“Menthol.” Snapping out of her trance, Minerva bustled in to join Trevor. “Pennyroyal is what you want—it’s the best for warding off chills.” She stepped around Trevor, let the footman squeeze past, then pointed to a rack of similar bottles set on a wooden table. “There should be some there.”

“Pennyroyal. Right.” Trevor went to the rack. “Here it is. How many drops?” He squinted at the tiny label.

“About a teaspoon, even two. Enough so you can smell it strongly.”

Trevor took out the stopper, tipped a bit of the oil into the water. Minerva and he sniffed the steam. Both frowned.

Walking into the bathing chamber, Royce dropped his sodden cravat, which he’d finally managed to untangle, onto the floor; it landed with a splat, but neither his valet nor his chatelaine reacted.

He looked longingly at the hot water, felt ice seeping into his marrow—heard the other two arguing the merits of adding peppermint as well.

Lips setting, he yanked his shirttails free of his waistband, loosened the cords at his wrists and neck, then looked at his chatelaine. “Minerva.”

She looked up, met his eyes.

“Leave. Now.” He reached for the bottom of his shirt.

“Oh, yes—of course.”

He pulled the shirt up, heard the flurry of her footsteps, then the door to the bathing chamber click shut. Grimly smiled. But wrestling free of the drenched folds was an exercise and a half; Trevor had to help—with that, his boots, and his breeches, designed to cling to him even when dry.

Finally naked, he stepped into the tub, sat, and leaned back, then sank right down. Felt the heat from the water slowly melt the ice in his flesh. Felt the warmth sink in.