Betty wrinkled her nose. “The new girl didn’t want to stay, not with fever in the house. She would have it that Mr. Logan had scarlet fever, but the doctor said that was nonsense.”

Aunt Dottie frowned. “So who has been looking after Logan?”

“Mostly me, ma’am. Me and Cook and my cousin Sue who came in some days to give us a hand, after that silly maidservant left.” That explained Betty’s frazzled appearance. The poor woman must be exhausted.

There was a short silence. “Thank you, my dear.” Aunt Dottie took Betty’s work-worn hands in hers and kissed her on the cheek. “I am . . . you have no idea how grateful—”

“Ah, ’tis nothing, ma’am,” Betty said gruffly. “You and Mr. Logan been good to me and Cook. There ain’t nothing we wouldn’t do for either of you.”

“It’s not nothing and I shall think of some way to express my thanks to you all later.” Aunt Dottie pushed her maid toward the door. “You can help me now, Betty, by putting yourself to bed and getting some much-needed sleep—no, don’t argue. The rings under your eyes tell their own tale. I am here to care for Mr. Logan now.”

Betty went reluctantly and the old lady gave a gusty sigh. “I am blessed in my servants. Now, unhook me, George, dear.” She presented her back to George.

“Here?” She glanced at Logan, sleeping in the bed.

“Yes, of course here. Where else?” Slightly bemused, George helped the old lady remove first the dress, then her stays, petticoat, shoes and stockings until she was down to just her chemise which, to George’s relief, stayed on. Aunt Dottie was the old-fashioned type who wore no drawers.

Then Aunt Dottie slipped into the bed beside Logan. He stirred. “That you, Dot?”

She kissed him. “Yes, love. I’m here now.”

His arm wrapped around her. “Missed you.”

“I missed you too, my darling. What a fright you gave me, but you’re through the worst of it, thank God. Now, back to sleep, love. Sleep and get well again.” She snuggled her head on the old man’s chest, closed her eyes and, under George’s fascinated eye, the elderly couple drifted off to sleep.

George was ever so slightly shocked. It was one thing to know that Aunt Dottie and her groom had fallen in love all those years ago. That wasn’t so surprising. And even after Aunt Dottie had told her how they’d even talked about marriage and babies, it still hadn’t occurred to her that it was anything but a story of the long-distant past. She’d assumed that they’d stayed together out of friendship and loyalty. And habit.

But that they were lovers—still. She hadn’t really taken it in.

They were old. Did they still . . . ?