Read Online The Second Lady Emily by Allison Lane - Free Book Online

only have been a week.”
    “Relax, Emily. You are still disoriented by the fall.” He brushed the hair from her brow, feeling her puckered forehead, a sign that she was deep in thought.
    “The date. What is the date?”
    “July 4, 1812.” He had answered this question so often that he added the year almost automatically, though he had never considered it a vital part of the date.
    “The Fourth of July,” she murmured to herself. “I’ll miss the fireworks.”
    “Emily?”
    She shook her head, then winced. “Nothing, my lord. You call me Emily?”
    “I shouldn’t, of course.”
    “Because it is not my name?”
    “You still don’t remember, do you?” He sighed, his thumb idly stroking her palm. She didn’t seem to mind the impropriety. “You are Lady Emily Fairfield, sister of Charles Fairfield, seventh Earl of Clifford. I am his closest friend. But that does not give me the privilege of addressing you by your given name. Forgive me.”
    “Of course. I am sorry to be such a bother.” She frowned. “Do I recall a doctor bleeding me?”
    “Yes, but I put a stop to that at your request. The new doctor agrees that routine bleeding does more harm than good.”
    “So I was not hallucinating.” She sounded disappointed. “And you are seeing that I get the food I need to recover.”
    So harping on food had not been a product of delirium. “You needn’t fear for your recovery, Lady Emily. But if it is to continue, you must return to your bed.”
    “No. Being bedridden for three weeks explains why I am so weak. I need exercise.”
    “In the morning, if you remain free of fever. Now let me summon a maid to change the bed linen, and we will get you tucked back up.”
    “What time is it?”
    “About two.”
    She glared. “You can’t awaken some poor girl in the middle of the night! Get me a couple of sheets and I’ll do it myself.”
    “What?”
    They argued for several minutes before he finally gave in and collected the sheets. Not that he would allow her to make up the bed. She would swoon the moment she stood up. He did it himself. Poorly, but after subjecting him to such stubborn insistence, she could sleep on wrinkles. She had to change her own nightgown, of course. But aside from grumbling over the style – at least he thought that was what she found wrong with the garment – she managed. The effort tired her so much that she fell asleep the moment her head hit the pillow.
    Succumbing to temptation, he placed a lingering kiss on her forehead before he left to track down the maid who was supposed to keep watch in her room.
     

CHAPTER FIVE
     
    Cherlynn paced slowly from window to door and back. Each time she passed the mirror, her eyes searched the glass, hoping to see her familiar image restored. Who would have thought she could long to be short and fat, with frizzy brown hair, gray eyes, and a plain face? But she had never anticipated finding herself in this predicament.
    Each pass brought new disappointment. Cherlynn Cardington never lurked in the mirror. Instead, long black hair rippled to her waist, and China-blue eyes stared hesitantly from a pale oval face, their depths reflecting shock, fear, and lingering disbelief. Hands repeatedly skimmed her figure, trembling at the change from chunky to slender.
    Acceptance gradually subdued the shock. This was no dream. The flesh and blood her fingers touched matched the image in the mirror.
    Lord Thurston had left her with much to ponder, not least of which was his parting kiss. Their argument had wearied her, so she’d taken the coward’s way out by pretending sleep, thus raising new questions. When his lips had pressed against her brow so gently, it had taken all her willpower to remain motionless. Before she spoke with anyone else, she needed to figure out what was going on.
    His claims validated the scraps of memory from her illness. If they were all true, then she was no longer Cherlynn Cardington, failed wife, unsuccessful author, and