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letters from me before I could memorize them all.” She frowned. “I do hope they were answered to their satisfaction. They seemed very concerned about you.”
    “I see.” Anger rose in him that the housekeeper had interfered. He let out another curse under his breath at his train of thought. Far better for Matilda that she be kept at a distance than become more involved in his life and with his sisters, but still…
    “I would have liked to have written back to Miss Evelyn. She suggested I kiss a crown and place it directly over your heart to ward off infection, which of course could not have any effect on an injury like yours.” Her brow creased. “Does she really think that could have worked?”
    “Evelyn has been infatuated with the occult in the past, but I had hoped she’d grown out of that foolishness,” he mused, shaking his head in disgust. Clearly he’d been away from them for too long, and his father’s romantic nature had corrupted them into bird-witted ninnies. Now he was better, he would oversee their reading much more strictly and see what sense they had left. “I will speak to her about such nonsense when I see them again.”
    “That would be a good idea.” Matilda appeared a practical, no-nonsense kind of woman, and he was pleased. “Her suggestion speaks more of a romantic dream than of any science. I am aware that sometimes it is only faith that keeps despair at bay, but it was very surprising to read such a thing from someone with her education.”
    He studied the woman who had bullied him back to life. Their conversation tonight was the most Matilda had ever spoken to him directly, aside from reading the daily newssheets and his correspondence. He was intrigued by her clarity of thought. “You’ve nerves of steel to have stayed at my side for so long. More courage than ten officers to witness what you must have done.”
    “My father tried to shield me from the horrors of his work, but it seems he merely prepared me for what was to come working for you.” Her head dipped. “It is necessity for a servant to avoid squeamishness. I haven’t the luxury of fainting as so many of the delicate ladies of your class are prone to do.”
    “Matilda,” he said, his voice carrying a warning. There had always been an odd remark or expression when she read that hinted at bitterness at the antics of the ton mentioned in the papers. For all of her headstrong ways with the doctors, she possessed a finely tuned moral compass. He’d had to remind himself more than once that she was not of his world. They were quite different in every respect.
    She’d probably kept her father’s home until his death and overseen servants herself. He imagined she’d done very well at it too. Since coming here, she would have only dusted and entertained his sisters, who treated her as their own plaything while he had watched her with growing hunger.
    And then what had he done but punish her when his own vices had spun out of control?
    He tightened his grip on the sheet as lust crept up on him once more. He did not deserve her kindness and compassion. He was not a man anyone could love and had no delusions his nature was normal.
    He had in truth not expected her to be still employed in his home. He’d thought she would have fled while he’d been away at sea. It was astonishing she hadn’t found other employment while he was away, though without a reference she might not have had a choice.
    Before his injury, he’d briefly entertained the idea of offering her a new role in his life, but time had been short and he’d not been able to locate her before leaving last year. He couldn’t very well place such an offer in a letter. He’d changed his mind about the wisdom of making her his lover while they’d been apart, and especially so after his injury had thrown them together again.
    Even though Matilda had the perfect temperament—quiet, trustworthy—she deserved better from him.
    He’d do well to reestablish some