Emily Hendrickson (12 page)

“For my sins, yes. What is that potion you poured down my throat?” His voice seemed stronger, and his color not quite so ashen.

“You sound like David. He loathes the potion Purvis sent for him.” She lingered by the bed, watching him as much as he eyed her.

The earl chuckled, though it was faint and brief.

“Aunt Bel’s abigail, Purvis, is marvelous when it comes to mixing up healing concoctions. I believe she is a frustrated apothecary.”

The door opened and Rose entered with the shawl. Elizabeth thanked her maid, then requested that she heat more of the broth brought from Montmorcy Hall. “Best see to it yourself, then bring it up directly.”

Rose darted an awed look at the figure lying in state on the bed, then bobbed a hasty curtsy. “Yes, miss,” she murmured before disappearing from sight.

It might annoy David were she to remain here, tending his father rather than joining them, but it gave her time to think.

While they waited for Rose, she held up the novel she had found just before the little poison book tumbled to the floor. “Why do I not read to you? This is a delightful book I feel certain you will like.” She commenced to read at his nod. “ ‘It is a truth universally acknowledged that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife.’ “ His lordship nodded, and Elizabeth took them both into the world of Jane Austen’s Miss Bennet.

When the soup arrived, Elizabeth reluctantly set aside the lovely book. She spoon-fed his lordship the delicately flavored chicken broth. Once he had consumed what he could, she replaced the cover over the bowl, then set the bed to rights. She was about ready to go to her own lunch when Filpot entered.

The earl had shut his eyes, and there was nothing, other than the covered bowl on the tray Elizabeth now held, to indicate that he had been fed—or been awake, for that matter. She noted the valet’s darting perusal of the room, and she hated to leave, but knew she must.

“I shall be back as soon as I can,” she said quietly to the valet, hoping the earl caught her words as well.

Filpot frowned but could say nothing.

Nuncheon was over when she paused at the dining room door. In the kitchen she poured the broth into its jar. Then she supervised a light repast to her taste, and quickly ate it before returning to the library to seek out David. While hardly earth-shaking news, he would be pleased to know his father had consumed a bit of broth and enjoyed her reading.

“Where the devil have you been?” he snapped as she entered the library.

Her pleasure in the earl’s progress dissolved at the cold expression on Lord Leighton’s
face.

“You will be pleased to know I fed your father a tidy amount of broth and read to him for a bit. We enjoyed our time enormously.” She whirled about and marched
to
the door. A hand latched onto her arm, and she halted, waiting.

Heart beating madly, she turned to look at David. What did he want of her?

Chapter Seven

“Please stay. You may as well know I’ve a wretched temper when I have to deal with my uncle and cousins, particularly my cousin Jeremy.” He stared down at her with an odd expression on his face, one she certainly could not fathom.

She eased herself from his clasp and slowly moved so that a table stood between them. “He seems most innocuous to me.”

“He does, does he not?” David rubbed his chin with a speculative gesture.

“Why do they remain? Oh, I know Mr. Vane is your father’s steward, but why your uncle and his son? Surely they could go home? If I am not being presumptuous,” she added as an afterthought.

He strolled around the table, then drew her with him to the cozy arrangement of chairs before the fireplace.

“You know, I can see merits in marriage if it offers an arrangement like this, where a fellow may discuss problems with his wife.” His eyes developed that familiar glimmer of teasing, and Elizabeth doubted his sincerity.

“I shan’t comment on that, I believe,” she replied.

He urged her down on the high-backed chair, then sat opposite, staring moodily at the fire. “My Uncle Augustus is really not such a bad sort of chap, a bit of a hanger-on, but he once got along famously with my father. His son is another matter entirely. Father ordered Egbert to take himself off to London, or anywhere, rather than sponge on our estate. Quite created a chasm between the two families, or what is left of us. When Father became ill, Jeremy stayed on, claiming he could not leave at such a time when families must pull together. I suspect he lingers about waiting for the will to be read.”

“What a ghastly thing to say.” She reflected a moment, then continued, “But I believe I can see why you might feel that way.” She thought a moment, then said, “Have you looked through that book we found? Is it of any value? Would it help someone who wished to poison another?”

“I should say a clever person could apply the lessons learned without difficulty.”

“So all we must do now is figure out who bought that book, then plotted to murder your father.”

“I knew you were a girl of uncommon good sense.” He paused. “I really do not understand my antagonism to Jeremy. Perhaps it has something to do with all the time my father has lavished on him.” He gave her a searching glance.

“And not you?” Elizabeth inquired with intuition. She could appreciate that David might resent the hours his father spent teaching estate management to Jeremy while ignoring his son.

“I did mention you are most perceptive.”

“My father always favored Geoffrey over us girls. Although he is the heir, I suspect it had more to do with Geoffrey’s amazing ability with languages. I do well enough with French and have a smattering of Italian, Julia about the same, while Victoria is close to my brother in her abilities, yet he favored his son.” Elizabeth shrugged, then went on, “We all tried our best to please him, each of us perfecting a proficiency in some craft, and Mother seemed proud of us.”

“But you craved a word of praise from your father?”

“Since you understand how I feel, then you know how I am able to sympathize with you.” She gave him a dry look, then clasped her hands in her lap. “What do we do now?”

“I shall continue searching the house for evidence of the poison, and I should appreciate it if you would do the same. When you are not with my father, that is, I just wish I knew what I was looking for—precisely.” He exchanged a rueful look with her and they both sighed.

“Which reminds me, why did you tell him that we are betrothed? You know it is not the truth, even if Aunt Bel insists we are to wed.” Her annoyance had dissipated with time, but she was curious as to why a man who had so assiduously fought being leg-shackled was informing one and all about their bogus engagement.

“You are a remarkably pretty woman, my dear. And my father would wonder about your presence here, in a household of men, if I did not offer a plausible explanation.” His grin was as devilish as his smooth words were prosaic. Those hazel eyes danced with an aggravating gleam.

Her pleasure at his compliment dimmed as she considered the practicality of his words. Speculating on what might lie behind that grin was something else.

“I wonder how long it will snow.” Oddly enough, she wasn’t worried about it. And she supposed she ought to be, had she an ounce of brains in her head.

“Regardless of when it stops, I doubt if the roads will be passable. Even London streets are a frightful mess when it snows.”

“True enough.” She rose, strangely reluctant to end their little interchange, yet knowing she must check on his father again. “You ought to find a reputable nurse, you know. I may do my best, but what if that is insufficient?”

“We
had
a nurse before you came. I found her raiding the gin bottle during the night and sent her packing.” He had also risen and now stood close to her, looking faintly amused as she backed toward the door and bumped into the table instead.

“I understand that is not unusual.” I ought to go, she reminded herself, yet she lingered, and she could not understand why.

“I shall attempt to keep my cousins out of your way.” He fiddled with a leather bookmark that he’d found on the table, watching her face intently.

What was on his mind? Maybe he merely missed his London society, and perhaps his mistress? That thought so distressed Elizabeth that she turned to flee the room.

A hasty glance behind her revealed his lordship standing where she had left him with a thoughtful expression on his face. Face aflame, she hurried up the stairs and across to the south wing, where she could check on his father and be safe.

Rose met her breathless entrance with raised brows.

“How is he?”

“Fine, miss. He’s been restless, but I gave him some of the tonic, and he seemed to perk up, like.”

Elizabeth walked over to the bed to study her patient. It was challenging to know what to do for someone who slept so much, especially when she was not skilled in nursing. Her lessons from Purvis had been too brief, she could see that now. But then, she was doubtlessly better than a nurse who indulged in gin.

With that thought as comfort, she sent Rose off to have something to eat.

Elizabeth was most curious who might have used that book on poisons. Perhaps the cook took it to prepare herbal potions in the still room, since Lady Crompton no longer was there to take charge.

“It surely cannot be as bad as all that.”

She whirled about to face the gentleman who gazed at her from the depths of the enormous bed.

“I fear it is, sir. What with snow and trying to get you on your feet, I have my hands full.” She held up her slim hands and smiled at his expression.

“I believe I feel better this afternoon. Shall you read me some more of Miss Austen’s book?” His eyes had that appealing gleam so noticeable in his son’s.

She promptly seated herself, opened the book to the marked page, and began. “ ‘But it must very materially lessen their chance of marrying men of any consideration in the world,” replied Darcy.’ “ She raised her eyes to meet those of his lordship, sharing an amused look, then continued with the story. When it became necessary to light a lamp, he gave a sigh.

“Is it time for dinner?” he asked in a vexed tone.

Encouraged at what she took to be a sign of improvement, Elizabeth glanced at the mantel clock and agreed. “I believe it is. Goodness, the hours fly past when one has a good book.” She placed the bookmark at where she had stopped, then rose. “I shall order some more of that special broth to be heated for you, and Purvis said you might have some of her special herb biscuits.” Elizabeth turned to give the bell pull a tug.

“I only said that because I want to see you dressed for dinner.”

She shook her head in dismay. “You are a wag, sir. I believe you are malingering here, and not the least under the weather.” She tilted her head and flashed one of the Dancy smiles at him. She crossed to the bed and smoothed his covers, plumping a pillow to tuck beside him while bestowing a fond look on the gentleman.

“I think my son a very lucky man.”

Elizabeth blushed, thanking her stars that Lord Leighton was not present.

“Never say that I do not have the best of taste. Father.”

The sound of that rich voice came as a distinct shock to Elizabeth, and she found herself quite shaken.

“I am all agreement, son.”

While Elizabeth went to the door to explain to Rose what was wished, she could hear quiet conversation between father and son.

It bothered her that David could slip into the room without her hearing a sound. After a spy had crept into their house in London, Elizabeth had slept with a gun beneath her pillow, but the gun was not here for tonight. And she wondered if she should have brought it.

“I am feeling so much more the thing that I believe Elizabeth ought to join you for dinner, David. Leave that shy little maid in here with me.”

Unwilling to argue, Elizabeth instructed Rose on what to do. After explaining that the maid ought to consider his lordship like her father, it seemed she felt more at ease. By the time Elizabeth left the bedchamber Rose had proceeded to bully his lordship into consuming the broth and herb biscuits.

“Can you bear to join us for dinner this evening? I’ll not like the notion of you hiding in your room just because my relatives put you in a quake. Or is it me you fear?”

“Neither, sir,” she denied bravely. “I shall join you. Have you found any evidence of a poisonous substance?”

They continued to the head of the stairs in speculation. David had found nothing at all, to his frustration.

“I shall be down directly, when I freshen up.” She took her leave, wondering how she was to manage her dress with Rose attending Lord Crompton.

Her gown lay neatly on the bed in the room Sidthorp had assigned to her. An open door revealed a small dressing room that also held a pretty cot suitable for Rose.

The decor of the bedroom looked to be the very latest designs, directly from London. Simple, almost austere, after Aunt Bel’s rather ornate interior. Fluid curves and lovely woods graced the few pieces. The blue and cream with touches of gold on the walls and fabrics pleased Elizabeth very much.

The thought entered her mind that if she held Lord Leighton to his oft repeated declaration of betrothal, she would be mistress of this house. Then, as quickly as it had come, that idea was dismissed. But she had to admit that David did not appear the rake while under his father’s roof. Although those hazel eyes did mock and tease her most dreadfully.

Even as she stripped her day gown off, then put on the evening dress suitable for a winter dinner with friends, she wondered how accurate the London gossips were. Her sisters had scolded her roundly for accepting the prattle of the London ladies as truth.

She had pinned her bodice in place and draped a modest string of pearls about her neck when the sound of the dinner gong reached her ears. Alone in this wing, she felt oddly shy walking along the broad corridor to the head of the stairs.

Below, she could hear voices, and once downstairs she drifted along to the drawing room whence they came. They were standing about, quite obviously waiting for her.