Edith Layton (12 page)

“Easily remedied,” Drum said. “Father, Doctor—these are my hosts, in size order, Vic, Kit, and the hasty little fellow is Rob. Boys, this is my father, the Duke of Winterton, and Dr. Raines, who came all the way from London to see me. The doctor’s impressed that I’m still alive. I’m impressed that I am too, after his examination.” He shot the doctor a bright look. “If I’ve healed well it’s because these fellows saw to it I never got depressed.”

“A merry heart is the best medicine,” the doctor agreed, as the boys bowed to their new guests.

“These three could have a dead man walking,” Eric commented from behind them.

“It was Ally who did all the work,” Rob protested.

“Which will be undone if someone doesn’t leave
soon,” Alexandria said from the hallway, where she stood on tiptoe trying to look in the room. “Mrs. Tooke’s home and Dr. Pace is coming up. Boys, make your good-nights. I’ve brought a tray for our patient but there isn’t even room to bring it in, much less put it down!”

The boys bowed again and began to leave. “I’ll be back in the morning, Drum!” Rob called as his brothers pushed him out the door.

“Try to keep you out!” Drum laughed.

“They call you Drum?” his father asked incredulously, as though they were alone in the room.

Alexandria spoke before Drum could answer. “That’s my fault, your grace. You see, it was the name the earl muttered when he was half-conscious, and the one the boys took to calling him. We’re more casual here in the countryside, but I never should have allowed that to continue. I should have corrected them.”

“You did,” Drum reminded her. “I countermanded that order. Nonsense for them to call me ‘my lord’ when I was dependent on them for my very life.”

“Nonetheless I should have stopped it.” She bent to put the tray on the table beside him. Her voice was steady and calm, but Drum saw her hands shake as she set the tray down. “Is it true?” she asked him, looking up into his eyes. “You’re leaving us?”

Her face bore a look of mild inquiry. But her eyes were on his as she straightened, and she held her breath until he answered. He gazed back at her, his own gaze as deep and melancholy blue as the new night. He shook his head, his expression sad.

She took in a sharp breath.

“No, poor lady,” he said, with a small smile, “I’m
not allowed to leave yet. I’m so sorry, but it looks like they’ll only let me go when I can waltz down the stairs with you.”

She smiled back at him with relief she couldn’t hide. “That’s the new fad in London? Waltzing on stairs? Then I’m very glad to be in the countryside.”

“As am I,” Drum laughed.

The doctor grinned at them, Eric watched with interest, but the duke looked from one of them to the other, and frowned.

His frown was nothing to the scowl Dr. Pace wore as he marched into the room. He didn’t waste a moment with Drum, he wasn’t interested in the duke. All his attention was focused on the other physician. “Well, sir,” he said without preamble after he was introduced, “what have you to say about our patient?”

“What I already said,” the other doctor replied, “that I don’t think I could have done better myself.”

“Indeed?” Dr. Pace rocked back on his heels. “Well, well. Thank you, that’s very good to hear.”

“I’m pleased you two have done so well,” Mrs. Tooke said from the doorway, “but it is late, Dr. Pace, and your wife, poor dear, is half asleep in the kitchen and begs to go home.”

“Very well, Mrs. Tooke,” Pace said. “I think you’ve had enough of doctors for one night, sir,” he told Drum, eyeing his pallor. “You’re doing well, but you won’t continue to if we keep pulling at you. I’ll see you in the morning. Good-night.”

“Yes, good-night, Drummond,” the duke said abruptly. “I have to get to my lodgings for the night too. Are you coming, Dr. Raines?” he asked as he strode to the door without waiting for an answer. But
he halted abruptly when he saw Mrs. Tooke.

She looked back at him steadily, her eyes strangely sad and amused at the same time. He frowned, looking puzzled. He tilted his head to the side. “Mrs. Tooke?” he asked in a strange voice. “But surely I know you?”

“Surely you do,” she said, dipping a curtsy. “I am—or was—Rosalind Usborne. But that was many years ago.”

“Rosalind?” he asked, astonished. “But—
you
are
Mrs. Tooke
?”

She nodded, dropping her gaze. “Yes, my lord. I married Leon Tooke, remember? The young man who came to sell a horse to my father, and stayed to take me home with him? Possibly not,” she said softly. “All most people remember was the scandal of it and not his name at all.”

The duke’s high cheekbones were ruddy. “I do remember now. The name didn’t signify at first. I heard you were widowed, I’m sorry for your loss. My condolences. How have you been apart from that sad circumstance?” he asked, his usual bland expression back in place.

“I am well. And you, sir?”

“As you see.” He waved one hand in a sweeping bow. “I flourish, the wicked always do. But thank you for your part in this, I see now that Drummond couldn’t have had better luck and care.”

“It was Alexandria who did it all,” she said, meeting his eyes steadily now. “I merely volunteered to help her.”

“Yes, well. You’ve done me a favor too and I’m grateful. If there’s anything I can do for you in turn I hope you will let me know.”

“My dear sir,” she said, holding her head up higher, “I need no reward.”

He nodded and sketched a bow. Now there was a distinct coolness in his attitude. “I must leave,” he told Drum. “The doctor and I took lodgings at a fair distance from here, the closest available were an hour’s drive away. I too think you need your rest, almost as much as I need my own. But I’ll be back in the morning,” he added with a note in his voice that was almost a threat, looking down his long nose at Mrs. Tooke, then pointedly at Alexandria, and then back to his son.

“M
UCH BETTER
!” D
RUM SAID WITH ENTHUSIASM
as Grimes carefully helped him lower himself to his chair again the next morning. “Why didn’t I think of that?”

“If I can’t heal you as well as Dr. Pace did, the least I can do is make you comfortable,” Dr. Raines said with satisfaction.

“I should have thought of it,” Dr. Pace said with chagrin.

“No, I should have,” Grimes said sadly.

“Don’t blame yourself, doctor, you did quite enough. And you’re used to healthy men, Grimes,” Drum told them. “But what a difference. Such a simple thing and such a relief,” he marveled, then laughed. “God! I’ll never mock the elderly again. Who’d have thought I’d ever get to the point when a few more cushions under my arse and a few beneath my leg could transform my day? Now I can look out the window
without straining my neck, and it’s opened my world. It’s as good as a trip abroad.”

He looked down at the yard, and could see it fully for the first time since he’d been brought to the cottage. He flinched. The barn was even worse now that he saw the whole property, but it was a pretty place, even so.

He finally got a look at the landscape surrounding the house. The garden in front was neatly tended, the lawn that sloped toward the lane was scythed, the drive neatly raked, the bordering hedges trimmed and showing the first peeks of pink blossoms. It was rural but tamed, and charming. The morning sunlight glinted off blue water in the distance, the pond the boys had mentioned.

Best of all, he could see everyone’s comings and goings now. His men were exercising his horses. Alexandria was watering her garden. She wore her pink gown, but no bonnet, so he could see the sunlight spinning sparkling strands of gold in her glossy auburn hair. He smiled and raised a hand to wave, and slowly lowered it again. She wouldn’t see his salute because Eric came striding out of the barn toward her.

Tall, broad, fit, his overlong honey hair wheaten in the bright light, Eric towered over Alexandria. Copper and gold looked very well together, Drum thought, his expression sharpening, seeing how she had to raise her hand to shade her eyes as she looked up at Eric and smiled—and smiled. Drum could see the radiance of it even from above.

“Yes, the barn was a mistake,” his father commented, watching Drum’s own smile fading. “Perhaps you can pull it down before you leave.”

“No.” Drum was glad his father had misunderstood his unease. “They need the extra room and have already found a dozen ways to use it. Maybe I’ll redesign the place, though.”

“I doubt she’ll let you,” his father said, his eyes on his son as Drum kept watching the couple beneath him. “She’s a very determined young woman. The doctor and I woke early and left the inn at first light. I couldn’t quit the place early enough! I only hope I didn’t take more permanent reminders of it home with me,” he added, brushing at his sleeve.

“So we arrived here earlier than we had said we would,” the duke went on. “Your hostess made us cool our heels in her parlor until your man finished getting you dressed. Oh, she was polite and deferential, she gave us breakfast too, but she wouldn’t let us come up until Grimes told her all was in readiness.”

“Her sense of my dignity, I suppose. Not that I’ve much of it left anymore. It seems I’ve achieved instant old age and instant infancy,” he muttered. “I’m helpless. It’s not pleasant. No, and it’s not your fault either, Grimes. I can bear pain, but this dependency is galling.”

He kept watching the couple below. “I have to sit up here and stew, and wait, and rely on everyone else to bring me news and food, and company. I can’t walk or ride, or even get downstairs to sit in the sunlight. Not to mention the indignity of bathing, and such…” He gave a cough of a laugh. “I never used to complain so much either. No wonder old men and babies get so cranky!”

“Doctors, Grimes, if you’re done here now, could you give me some time alone with my son?” the duke
asked. “I’m going to leave shortly and I’d like to give him some fatherly admonitions and advice. You can see him with your instructions when I’ve done, Doctors. If you’d be so kind?”

But the three men were already going out the door.

The duke waited until the door closed behind them. He passed the time watching Drum watching his friend and his hostess in the front yard. “She seems to like him,” the duke commented, keeping his eye on his son. “She could do worse. Although I fear the major could do much better.”

Drum’s head spun around, he fixed his father with his bright blue stare.

“Don’t call for a second to arrange the details of the duel,” the duke said calmly. “Not only will I never duel with an invalid, I only speak the truth. She has no portion, family, or position. Ford isn’t nobility, but he comes from an old family, has some money, and those remarkable looks of his, of course. He can aim higher.”

“You’ve become a marriage broker,” Drum said in a dispassionate voice to match his father’s. “How very interesting. Most men in your position would try their hands at collecting butterflies or firearms, or ancient armor. But to each his own.”

“I merely comment on what I see,” his father said, unperturbed. “That was the point of my asking to be alone with you now. I’d best be brief, before we’re interrupted again. This place may be remote but it’s less private than a street corner in London. I wonder why you complain about being shut away. I’d think that actually being alone awhile would be a blessing around here.”

“Alone and abandoned are two different things.”

“You’re the darling of the household,” his father retorted. “Which is why I have some words of warning for you.” He paced a step or two, pausing when the clear sound of melodious laughter floated up to the window. Eric had said something to make Alexandria laugh. Drum’s attention wandered to the window again.

“You complain about feeling alone and disenfranchised here,” the duke said. “That’s true and it’s cause for complaint. Being alone too much changes a man’s perceptions. I’ve read that prisoners of war have sometimes fancied themselves in league with their captors after a while, even their torturers, developing a genuine affection for them. Indeed, I’ve heard that men can become fond of certain rats if they’re kept in a dark dungeon with them long enough. A great warrior became fascinated by a spider in his cell, making a pet of it, they say. All manner of strange infatuations can form in a man’s mind when he’s helpless and alone.”

Drum looked up at him at last.

“Familiarity breeds an aura of content,” the duke went on, “And it can become easy to mistake gratitude for something more. You’re vulnerable now, whether you know it or not. The woman
is
kind-hearted and lovely. But you know other such, you have the acquaintance of dozens of ladies who are more spectacularly lovely. In fact, I wonder if you’d even have started up a conversation with Miss Gascoyne if you’d come across her in London. Don’t look so insulted; consider it. Would you have?”

He took another turn around the room. “Then too, there’s the matter of celibacy, understandably difficult for a young man. And one mustn’t underestimate the
competitive spirit, which was always strong in you. It may even be an excess of charity since the poor chit has little and you, as a gentleman, would of course be impelled to gallantry. Whatever it is, it’s obvious you’ve become involved with your hostess even if you’ve never touched her.”

Drum sat very still.

“I credit your good sense enough to know you’d never consider marrying her,” his father said, continuing to pace. “A misalliance is more than a social error. Look at poor Mrs. Tooke. As Rosalind Usborne she was a girl with the world at her feet. Now she’s estranged from her family and works like a peasant for her daily bread. I shouldn’t like to live with her regrets. It isn’t just a matter of money. She’s cut off from all she knew, forever. A man who married beneath himself would feel the same way once his infatuation passed, and marriage always puts an end to infatuation.

“Even if you’re wise enough to avoid matrimony,” the duke went on, “I wouldn’t want to see you confusing the issue, and perhaps producing another sort of issue that might embarrass you one day. At least, Rosalind Tooke was honestly in love, I suppose that’s some consolation to her now. This is very different. I very much doubt your heart is involved, but your sympathies and God knows what else is.”

He paused, and raised a slim finger for silence. “You’re a great prize, Drummond, even if you deny it. I just ask that you take care. I grant that the woman isn’t angling for you, but she may have allies that are.” Drum gazed at him with eyes so intense and cold that his father had to look away from that blistering stare. “I’m simply voicing my concerns,” the duke added.

It was almost an apology, at least coming from his father.

“She isn’t that sort of woman,” Drum said softly. “I’m not that kind of man. I don’t deny my attraction to her. I’m wounded, not dead. It’s true we might not have met if I’d not been thrown literally at her feet, but we’ve more in common than my isolation. There is a certain fellow feeling too, our minds dovetail in matters of humor and taste. Still, I know my place, and hers. So does she. We’re both adults, responsible ones. Hours or even weeks alone can’t change that. She’s got Eric Ford here now too. Unlike myself, he’s a man with everything to offer her. His name and himself. There’s something else.”

Drum gave his father a sweet smile that emphasized the difference between them, because when he smiled they looked little alike. “You think I’m a prize, Father. Not everyone does. My name and money are my main attractions, and I never forget that. As for the rest? I’m clever. So what? I’m no Adonis, and women put great store in looks, even the sensible ones do. Well, but I absolve them for it, we men feel the same way about women, don’t we? A woman with a beautiful heart is a lovely thing, but I’ve never known a man to lose his own head for one unless her face matched it, have you?

“No, my one real asset, aside from my title and fortune, is my charm, and well I know it. At the moment I don’t even have much of that,” Drum said with a wry grin. “Consider, I’m an invalid, confined to my bed and this chair, and cranky and tetchy to boot. Eric’s a spectacularly handsome fellow, with the use of his legs and a very fine brain. But that’s not the point. Even if Eric weren’t here to divert her, even if she burned for me
and I for her, you needn’t worry about me forgetting myself, losing control, or doing something rash because I’ve fallen hopelessly in love. I’ve never been able to do that. It’s why I’m still single. It is, I think, the great tragedy of my life.”

His father’s head came up. “I’m sorry to hear that,” he said. “I’d consider it an asset.”

“You never loved Mama to distraction?”

“Oh, I did. But I knew that I could, you see. I never let passion or whim steer my course in life, and I’ve never had cause to regret it. Neither should you. Some men come to love late. You’ve time to find a woman you can care for. No matter what you think, you’ve too much sympathy in your soul not to find yourself feeling affection for a woman you
can
take to wife.”

Drum looked at his father in surprise. He’d never said anything half as kind to him.

“You have time, but you can’t find a diamond unless you look for one. When you do return to London,” the duke went on, “I urge you to reconsider Lady Annabelle. I believe she has a lot to offer. As a woman scorned, she’d certainly appreciate someone who cared for her now. If she’s not to your taste, then consider Trelawney’s daughter, or Maxwell’s niece, or Lady Abbott’s younger sister. I’ve been approached by the families and have investigated them. Any would suit.”

“Like picking a race horse?” Drum asked, his eyebrows going up.

“Yes,” his father said simply, “very like. I’m not being callous. Affection can come more easily once all other barriers have been hurdled. But it is a good comparison. Consider blood lines and temperament, appearance and cost. Then make an informed decision
and see what happens. I can promise you they’re all doing the same with you.”

“Father,” Drum said in exasperation, but didn’t get a chance to say more because there was a tapping on the door. “Yes?” he called.

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” Alexandria said from behind the door, “but it’s time for your medicine.”

“Are we done with paternal advice, Father?”

The duke nodded. “What more is there to say?”

“I can’t imagine,” Drum said, “and I’m very glad of it too. Come in, Alexandria,” he called. “Our private conference is ended.”

She opened the door and stepped in, bringing in a gust of fresh air scented with the wild perfume of the spring day with her. She wore her yellow gown and her smile was sunny too. “I’ve brought something for you to eat and drink to make you forget the taste of your medicine,” Alexandria said. Her tray held a plate of iced cakes, biscuits, a dish of wild preserves and some wedges of cheese. A tiny vase holding stems of lily of the valley adorned the tray.

Drum watched with a bemused expression as she set the tray down beside him. She stepped back, surveyed her handiwork, and frowned. A few stems had rattled out of the vase because of the uneven weight of their creamy white bells. She bent to poke them back in the vase—just as he reached for a spoon. His hand brushed against the side of her breast.

They each jumped as though stung—only a fraction, only a centimeter. But she was usually so calm, and he so collected, that it seemed like they actually did leap. At least, Alexandria’s heart did. And Drum recoiled as though he’d touched fire.

The duke’s eyes narrowed.

“Give you good morning, your grace,” Eric said as he strolled into the room. “What? Does a fellow have to break a limb to get some of those cakes? All I had was bacon, eggs, bread, kidneys, and ham for breakfast, nothing so rare and refined.”

“But Mrs. Tooke just made them,” Alexandria said with flustered haste.

“Those aren’t the only savory things I see now that I didn’t see at the breakfast table,” Eric answered, smiling down at her with admiration. “What does a fellow have to do to get you to sit down to a meal with him?”