Chapter Thirteen
In the morning, it was still raining. Oliver stared at the rivulets coursing down his window and told himself that the rain would stop by nightfall—and then he took a deep breath and went next door to pick up his self-appointed protector before going down to breakfast.
But not only was Rhodes still in bed, he had a cloth over his eyes and a very worried-looking valet hovering at his bedside.
Oliver looked at the valet’s face and felt a twinge of foreboding. “How bad is it?”
The valet grimaced. “Worse than before, Your Grace.”
“But how can that be? He was perfectly all right when he went to bed.”
The valet gave a very French shrug. “We do not know why, Your Grace.”
Oliver crossed to the bed. “So, I guess you won’t be coming down to breakfast, old fellow?” It should h
