“Much better, thank you, although it's rather difficult to flip the pages of my book.”

One corner of his mouth turned up in amusement. “Have you been trying to read?”

“Trying' would be the operative word,” she said wryly.

He walked to her side and flipped a page, looking down at her book as he did so. “And how is our dear Miss Dashwood faring this afternoon?” he asked.

Ellie looked at him with a confused expression until she realized he'd been peeking at the copy of Sense and Sensibility she'd been attempting to read. “Very well,” she replied. “I think Mr. Ferrars is going to propose at any minute.”

“How utterly thrilling,” he replied, and she had to admire him for keeping such a perfectly straight face.

“Here, turn the book over,” she said. “I've had enough reading for the afternoon.”

“Do you perhaps need another quarter dose of laudanum?”

“How did you know about that?”

He raised a brow. “I know all, sweetling.”

“I imagine what you know is how to bribe Judith.”

“That is a valuable thing to know, indeed.”

She rolled her eyes. “A quarter dose would be much appreciated, thank you.”

He poured the liquid and gave it to her, rubbing at his arm as he did so.

“Oh dear,” Ellie said. “I'd forgotten all about your arm. How is it feeling?”

“Not half as bad as your hands. You needn't worry about it.”

“But I won't be able to remove the stitches.”

“I'm sure someone else can do it. Helen, probably. She's forever working at her embroidery and needlework.”

“I suppose. I do hope you're not being a stoic, refusing to tell me how much it hurts. If I find out that you have—”

“For the love of God, Ellie, you have been seriously injured. Stop worrying about me.”

“It's much easier to worry about you than to sit here and think about my hands.”

He smiled understandingly. “It's difficult for you to remain inactive, isn't it?”

“Extremely so.”

“Very well, why don't we have one of those conversations I'm told husbands and wives have?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“You say to me something like, ‘Darling, darling husband—’”

“Oh, please.”

He ignored her. “‘—my dearest, darlingest husband, how have you fared this fine day?’”

Ellie let out a big sigh. “Oh, all right. I can play at this game, I suppose.”

“Very sporting of you,” he said approvingly.

She shot him a peevish look and asked, “How have you been keeping yourself busy, fair husband? I heard you moving about in the next room.”

“I was pacing.”

“Pacing? That sounds serious.”

He grinned slowly. “I've been making up a new list.”

“A new list? I am breathless with anticipation. What is it titled?”

“‘Seven Ways to Entertain Eleanor.’”

“Only seven? I had no idea I was that easily amused.”

“I can assure you I have put a great deal of thought into this.”

“I'm certain you have. The treadmarks on the carpet in your chamber can attest to that.”