She reached out and raised his chin with the tip of her finger.
They stared into each other’s eyes.
There was fragility and a hint of grievance in Nathaniel’s gaze, which he tried to hide, but ultimately failed.
Overall, he just looked a wounded cub.
Lucinda frowned.
She hadn’t even said anything yet, and he was already acting like she had wronged him.
‘s
“What have you been doing these last two days? If I’m not mistaken, Mr. Simmons has forbidden you from going out. And yet, it doesn’t seem like you’ve done any of the housework assigned to you.”
Nathaniel pressed his lips into a thin line and tried to ignore the ache in his heart.
Lucinda raised his head higher.
“Are you deaf or mute?”
“I was recuperating.”
His reply was short, his voice low and hoarse, as if he was unwilling to answer at all.
Lucinda chuckled. He might as well have been a mute.
“What’s wrong with your voice? Are you sick?”
“Fever.”
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He had been cooped up in the villa for the past couple of days. It hadn’t rained, either, so how could he have contracted a fever?
She peered at his face. Judging by his pallid complexion, he had likely been running a high fever for all the time he had stayed inside.
Lucinda put the pieces together in her mind and came to a conclusion.
She let him go and said, “Stop kneeling. Go and sit over there.”
Nathaniel didn’t need to be told twice. He immediately got to his feet and plopped down on the sofa across from her.
He barely had any strength left. Though brief, that moment of kneeling had made his legs numb, and now, he was getting dizzy.
If he had stayed down a moment longer, he could have fainted.
Lucinda reached for the pitcher and gracefully poured herself a glass of water.
“How did Conor get hurt?” she asked nonchalantly.