Dominic (11 page)

Suddenly
the
door
to
the
bedcha
m
ber
ca
m
e
open
and the
d
uke strode into
the
corridor slamming
it
shut behind hi
m
.

“He
goes
to
Stovely,”
he
s
n
apped
as
he
pushed
past her. “He must await his hal
f
-yearly dividends before he retur
n
s.”

“Marcel...” she began, starting forward, her hand held out in supplication.

“Do
not
take
it
upon
yourself
to
plead
for
h
i
m
,
m
ad
a
m,” he
said,
refusing
to
m
eet
her
gaze.
He
was alrea
d
y regretting the interview but he would not relent, the relief he
had
felt
at
finding
his
son
not
to
be
in
m
o
r
tal
danger had
turned
itself
around
into anger
at
putting
his
wife
through
so
much
anxiety
.
He
deplored
anything that
would cause he
r pain and the fact that his son
had given it no thought only served to inf
l
a
m
e his anger. “Go to him now,” he said in a slightly
ca
l
m
er to
n
e.
“Make
s
u
re that
he
is more comfortable
.
I
doubt
he
will
be
in
a
very co
m
pliant mood, but I think he has seen the sense of going to
Stovely.
Not
only
will
it
give
his finances a
chance
to co
m
e
about
but
it
will
also
allow
his bones
to
heal.”
Then giving a reluctant
s
m
ile,
“Though perhaps not his te
m
per,
that
I believe to be beyond rede
m
ption.”

“Co
m
e,
m
y
love,
do not
look
at
m
e
in
that
reproving way,”
he
said,
placing
a
conciliatory
arm about
Julie’s shoulders and drawing her to hi
m
.
“
Y
ou know I only have a care
for the boy and hate
to see him so done up.
W
e
can but
hope
that
this
will
serve
to
e
n
li
g
hten
him to
the
errors of
his
way
s
,
though
in
truth
I
doubt
it.
As
you
say,
m
y
dear,
we
are
too
m
uch
alike
he
and
I
and
the
sa
m
e
blood courses through both our veins.”

Julie allow
e
d
hers
e
l
f to
rest
agai
n
st his fra
m
e
for ju
s
t
a mo
m
ent but it was long enough for an unspoken understanding
to
e
x
ist
between
them,
it
needed
no
m
ore, so
m
uch in agree
m
ent was each
being with t
h
e other. She knew his heart well and understood his
m
otives, no
m
ore need
be
said,
and
leaving
his
side
she
gave
him a
brief s
m
ile
be
f
ore
entering
the
bedcha
m
ber
to
a
tte
n
d
to
th
ei
r son.

*****

After the first few days abed, Vale
f
ound the enforced inactivity irkso
m
e
to the extre
m
e and when
W
r
oxham was issued
i
n
to
his
pre
s
ence
m
ade no secret
of his desire
to be away
from
Blake
House.

“I’ve
had
enough
of
this
damned
coddling,”
he snapped.
“
T
here’s
so
m
e
one
or other
forever
in
and
out
of my
room
to
see
how
I
do.
I
shall
do
very
well
if
I
a
m but left alone.”

“Hate
having
your
wings
clipped
eh?
Quite understandable,” sy
m
pathized
W
r
oxha
m
, drawing up a chair
to
sit
at
his
friend’s
b
e
dside.
“How
fare
you?
I
tried to
gain
entry
two
days
since but was told
you were not up to receiving visitors. Said you were co
m
pletely done up, and I
m
ust ad
m
it, you don’t look in top rig even now.”

“Nonsense
, nothing a few days rest won’t put to
rights,” continued Vale i
m
patiently, his countenance re
m
aining
a
s
white as the
p
i
llows against which he lay. “Too
m
uch
m
ade
of the whole e
p
is
o
de. If it wasn’t for my mother—well—she see
m
s
to think I need taking care of and
will
n
o
t
hear
of
m
y
inte
n
tion
of
retur
n
ing
to
m
y
own
esta
b
lish
m
ent.
I
have
u
p
set
her
enough
by
the
whole
affair and
m
ust allow her the need to be assured that I recover.”

Thinking
it
wise
to
change
tack,
Wroxham asked,
“Do you intend to go to S
t
ovely after all?”

“Devil
a
bit,”
replied
Vale,
gri
m
acing
ruefully. “Doesn’t seem any option at prese
n
t, though the place is deuced
dull
at
this
ti
m
e
of
year,
but
at
least
I
shall
get so
m
e peace.”

W
roxh
a
m grinned.
“Never
known
you
to
be
in
need
of peace.
Thought
it
would be
the
last
thing
you
would
want; quite the opposite in fact.”

“Exactly, but what other option do I have?
It is either that
or
k
i
ck
m
y
heels
here
in
pen
ur
y
until
t
h
e
next
hal
f
- year.
No,
at
least
at
Stovely I
can
be
my
own
m
a
n
without any inter
f
e
r
ence
f
rom the
f
a
m
ily; they re
m
ain in town
f
or the rest of the season. At Stovely I shall not be answerable to anyone.”

“Not even his grace?”

“Especially
not
his grace!
He will
leave
m
e
to
my
own devices;
he
has
m
ade
it
per
f
ectly clear
t
h
at
he
wishes nothing
to
do
with
m
e,
a
fact
for
which
I
am eternally grateful.
I shall
do well
at
Stovely,
I
have
m
ade
m
y
m
i
nd up to it
.
”