She looked over at Marcus. He did not seem to have been disturbed by her voice.

She kicked off her shoes, and then, because really, she was already undressed enough to ruin her reputation should anyone come upon her, she reached down and peeled off her stockings.

“Ew.” She looked down at her legs in dismay. The stockings were almost soaked through.

With a sigh of resignation she laid them out over the back of a chair, then thought the better of it. Probably best not to have them on such display. So she crumpled them into a ball and shoved them into her shoes. And while she was standing, she grasped her skirt in her hands and swished it back and forth, trying to cool off her legs.

This was intolerable. She didn’t care what the doctor had said. She could not believe that this was healthy. She walked back over to his bed to peer down at him again, keeping a safe distance in case he lashed out.

Carefully, gingerly, she reached out a hand. She didn’t touch him, but she came close. The air near his shoulder was at least ten degrees warmer than the rest of the room.

Allowing for slight exaggeration, which she thought she was entitled to, given her overheated state. But still.

She looked around the room for something with which she might fan him. Drat, she should have nicked one of her mother’s Chinese silk fans. Mama was always fanning herself these days. She never went anywhere without at least three packed in her trunk. Which was really for the best, since she tended to leave them all over town.

But there was nothing suitable for fanning, so Honoria leaned over and blew gently at Marcus. He didn’t stir, which she took as a good sign. Emboldened by her success (if indeed that was what it was; she really had no idea) she tried it again, with a little more force. This time he gave a little shiver.

She frowned, unsure if that was a good thing or not. If he was as sweaty as he looked, she risked overchilling him, which was precisely what the doctor had warned against.

She sat down again, then stood, then sat, tapping her hand restlessly against her thigh. It got so bad that she had to practically slam her other hand down on top of it, just to keep it still.

This was ridiculous. She jumped to her feet and walked back over to him. He was moving about again, thrashing under his covers, although not with enough force to actually throw them off.

She should touch him. She really should. It was the only way to determine just how hot his skin was. What she was going to do with that information she wasn’t sure, but that didn’t matter. If she was his nurse—and it appeared she was—she needed to be more observant about his condition.