His Obsession (9 page)

“I remember,” Kate chuckled in agreement.

Gently, Edgar took her slender shoulders in
his hands.

“Tell me what’s bothering you. I can see that
you’re upset about something,” Edgar pleaded.

“No, I – Oh, very well. I don’t know how to
say this, but - I don’t want to marry Viscount Marbury,” Kate
finally admitted.

Edgar frowned.

“Did he say or do something to --”

“No, no. Nothing like that,” Kate quickly
assured him. “I just need some time to be alone right now, to think
things over.”

Edgar nodded slowly.

“Very well. I’ll make your apologies then.
Rest well,” Edgar bid her, placing a gentle kiss on her
forehead.

Edgar left Kate’s room, puzzled by her words.
Kate said the viscount hadn’t insulted her, but he wasn’t
convinced. If that young pup had so much as touched her
inappropriately or said a vulgar word in her hearing, he’d call him
out!

Gritting his teeth and mentally readying
himself for battle, Edgar descended the stairs and purposefully
strode for the garden. Suddenly, someone stepped in front of him
and Edgar drew up short.

“How is she?” a low masculine voice
asked.

Edgar frowned up at the man standing before
him, ready to pummel the viscount within an inch of his life. He
was surprised to see the Earl of Devonshire instead. Quickly, Edgar
pulled himself together.

“Better, my lord. Kate is better today,”
Edgar told him. “Thank you for asking.”

It could have been a trick of the light
perhaps, but Edgar thought that the earl appeared vastly relieved.
His interest was unexpected, yet certainly not unwelcome. Could it
be that his Kate and the earl --? For a moment, Edgar allowed his
imagination free rein. The result of his thoughts was so fantastic,
so utterly delightful that he nearly crowed with happiness.

“If there is anything that I can do, you have
only to ask,” Richard graciously offered.

“You wish to help Kate?” Edgar queried.

“Yes, of course,” Richard readily
replied.

Edgar grinned. The earl spoke with such
conviction. Overton was well pleased.

“Believe me, my lord, you’ve already helped
immensely,” Edgar promised him. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have
the distinct pleasure of telling that conceited young pup that he
cannot marry my daughter.”

Once Viscount Marbury was told that his offer
had been refused, he did not linger at the Overton mansion. Kate
was grateful. Edgar told her that Lionel had made his excuses. Some
sort of “family business” had apparently called him back to his
estate and he wasn’t certain that he would be able to return.

Kate happily exited her room. She paused at
the top of the steps, however, smiling as Helen and Lord Winslow
raced out the front door, arm in arm. It was clear to see that they
were deeply in love. Their faces positively glowed with happiness.
It was sweet and almost painful to watch them.

Halfway down the steps, Kate felt as though
she were being watched. Already sensing the identity of the
gentleman observing her descent, Kate hopefully lifted her
eyes.

Richard Warwick stared up at Kate, transfixed
by the graceful young woman poised on the stairs. She appeared a
little thin and pale. Her curly red hair was a vivid contrast to
the color of her skin and there were dark circles beneath her eyes.
That worried him. Had she not been sleeping well?

Kate’s eyes were starved for Richard, too.
Somehow, in the light of day, the Earl of Devonshire appeared
taller and more handsome than Kate remembered. He’d apparently been
out riding more, too, because his face and hands seemed more tanned
by exposure to the sun.

As Kate stared at Richard, a smile curved her
pink lips and Richard grinned. Whatever troubles had beset Kate
Overton were apparently behind her. What he wouldn’t give to spend
the day with her.

Richard finally closed the distance between
them, stopping at the base of the stairs. Just having him near made
Kate’s heart skip a beat. Praying that she wouldn’t stumble and
make a cake of herself, Kate descended the last few steps, at last
stopping on the tread just above the floor.

“My lord,” Kate acknowledged with a nod.
“It’s nice to see you again.”

Gently, Richard took Kate’s small hand and
raised her fingers to his lips.

“I have missed our discussions, Lady Overton.
I trust you’re feeling better?” Richard inquired.

“A little. Thank you.”

“If you’ll permit me, I took the liberty of
purchasing a small gift for you to aid your recovery,” Richard told
her, retrieving something from his coat pocket.

Kate stared at the small rust colored book he
held out to her. A book of poetry, perhaps? How typical. No, it
seemed to be something else entirely.

“
The Best Works of Voltaire
?” Kate
read aloud.

“Do you like it?”

“Oh, yes!” Kate happily replied. “I’m
delighted.”

Kate’s glistening smile was worth every
agonizing moment Richard had spent in the bookseller’s shop,
debating the perfect tome to purchase for such an unusual lady. He
was pleased.

“Have you read much of his work?” Richard
inquired with interest.

“Some,” Kate acknowledged. “His words are
very thought provoking.”

“I agree. Perhaps, after you’ve read it, we
might find an opportunity to discuss it?” Richard suggested.

Suddenly, a virtual tornado of red velvet and
lace swept past Kate, nearly tumbling her from the stairs. Richard
reached out and caught Kate’s elbow to steady her as Dorothea
leaned toward him.

“Here I am at last!” Dorothea declared, her
face glowing with excitement. “I hope I haven’t kept you waiting
long,
darling
?”

“My lady,” the earl briefly acknowledged.

“Come, my lord. I have the perfect mount for
you,” Dorothea announced, neatly capturing the earl’s elbow. “You
can ride Father’s horse.”

Richard glanced at Kate. Apparently, Dorothea
and the earl had already arranged to go riding. Regally, Kate
lifted her head and descended to the floor in front of them.

“Please, go ahead,” Kate bid them. “It looks
to be a fine day for a ride.”

Richard nodded and reluctantly allowed
Dorothea to lead him away. Kate stared after the retreating couple,
her heart silently breaking.

The weather was poor the next day and the
following one as well. It rained almost non-stop, a steady,
dripping rain that depressed the entire Overton household.

Helen and Dorothea were despondent and bored.
Their gentlemen callers would hardly venture out in such dismal
weather. No man’s love was that steadfast, or so they thought.

It was nearly dinner time. Not only could
they tell by the mantel clock, but the sky had started to take on
an even darker hue than before. Suddenly, there was a knock at the
front door and all eyes swung in that direction.

“Goodness, who could it be?” Penelope
worried.

“Who would venture out in this?” Edgar
agreed, rising from his chair.

“My lord, come quickly!” Jacobs requested
from the hall.

Edgar hurried into the hall at the summons
and Kate followed. Two men stood in the hallway, both thoroughly
drenched. The taller gentleman seemed to be supporting his
companion. To her astonishment, Kate recognized Lord Winslow and
the Earl of Devonshire.

“I found him at the crossing. I’m afraid he’s
broken his arm,” Richard grimly announced.

“Frederick!” Helen gasped, hurrying toward
her intended. “Are you all right?”

Winslow winced as Helen threw her arms around
his neck and hugged him. His face was noticeably pale and the
beginnings of a bruise already colored the edge of his jaw. No
doubt, there were perhaps other injuries that they couldn’t
see.

“Easy, my love,” Winslow pleaded. “I am not
well.”

“His horse threw him into the ditch,” Richard
explained. “I don’t know how long he’d lain there before I reached
him.”

“Penelope, send for the physician,” Edgar
directed.

“Hetty! Send for Dr. Smythe immediately,”
Penelope directed. “And tell Cook to put some water on to
boil.”

“I’ll be fine,” Winslow hollowly
objected.

Frederick Winslow might have thought he was
fine, but without further ado, his eyes rolled up toward the top of
his head and he crumpled to the floor. Richard half caught
Frederick as he fell, but he was only able to hold him under one
arm. At best, Richard only slowed him down a little. Helen gasped
and knelt beside her intended, raining kisses on his wet face.

“Frederick! Frederick?” Helen gasped, patting
his chest ineffectually. “Is he all right?”

“Looks like the lad fainted,” Edgar noted.
“Can you lend us your strong arm, my lord? Let’s get him upstairs
where the physician can tend to him properly.”

Richard threw Frederick’s good arm over his
shoulder and began to climb the steps. Edgar assisted as best he
could, but with Frederick’s other arm broken, there was no way to
get a good hold on him. It was a good thing that Richard was so big
and strong, since he shouldered most of the burden. Nevertheless,
it was slow going.

Helen rushed ahead of them to ready one of
the guest rooms for their new arrival, but Penelope and Dorothea
were so agitated that they were of little use. They hovered about
like a pair of excited little hens, calling directions and advice
to the servants and the men on the stairs, but doing little of any
significance. One of the maids brought Kate a pitcher of water and
some towels and she followed after them.

Thankfully, Frederick began to come around as
they climbed, but he was only semi-conscious and of little help to
them. He flopped his arm about uselessly, but at least he was able
to walk a little. Edgar Overton steadied the two men as they
reached the summit, then helped the earl turn down the hallway.

“We’ll need bandages and splints,” Kate
advised, following the earl and her father.

“Dorothea, see to it!” Edgar commanded.

“Me?” Dorothea cried in horror.

“Dorothea!” Edgar repeated.

“But – but --” Dorothea stammered, suddenly
finding herself completely alone in the hallway. “Oh, bother!”

At Edgar’s suggestion, they helped Frederick
Winslow into the guest room and laid him on the bed. Helen
attempted to remove his coat, but the man was too badly injured and
her movements only caused him further pain. Quickly, the earl
withdrew a wicked looking knife from the side of his boot and cut
Winslow out of the confining garment. His shirt came next. Richard
paused when he saw some blood covering the left side of his rib
cage and along the broken arm, as well.

“There seem to be additional injuries,”
Richard noted.

Helen paled and stepped back, clutching
Winslow’s torn coat to her chest. Kate, however, remained where she
was.

“Perhaps it might be best if the ladies left
the room?” Richard suggested.

Dorothea glanced toward the bed, saw the
blood and turned a pale green. Penelope quickly bustled her out
into the safety of the hallway.

Richard glanced up at Kate, indicating it
might be best if she departed as well, but she shook her head.

“No, my lord,” Edgar countered. “Until the
doctor comes, Kate is the best chance this young man has.”

Their eyes met briefly over the patient and
thankfully, Richard protested no longer. Quickly, Richard opened
his coat and threw it over a chair. With military precision and an
economy of movement, he cut away Winslow’s fine linen shirt,
gingerly easing the material aside. Frederick moaned in pain as
Richard and Kate inspected his wounds.

Winslow’s arm was indeed broken and he might
have had a few cracked ribs, as well. Thankfully, the bones hadn’t
pierced the skin, but the sight proved to be too much for Helen. A
few seconds later, she crumpled to the floor in a dead faint.

Edgar and the butler carried Helen from the
room and Kate took charge of Winslow’s care. Kate only turned her
back momentarily as the earl divested the young man of his trousers
and small clothes. Quickly, Richard tugged the sheet up over the
lower half of Winslow’s body and watched with admiration as Kate
gently moved Frederick’s arm into position on the mattress.

“Can you please help me, my lord?’ Kate
requested. “The sooner we splint his arm, the better.”

Richard nodded and followed her directions.
With splints and bandages at the ready, he helped Kate realign the
young lord’s arm and secure it with the splints. Winslow only
roused a moment, moaning as the worst of the pain assailed him.
Kate bent to cleanse and bandage the wounds over his ribs, but they
didn’t seem to be too serious. With Richard’s help, she also bound
Frederick’s ribs to minimize his movements until the physician
arrived.

The pain brought Frederick around and Richard
managed to get a couple of glasses of Edgar’s best brandy down
Winslow’s throat while he was conscious. By the time the physician
arrived, matters were well in hand. Helen had recovered enough to
return to Winslow’s bedside and the doctor found her spooning warm
tea between his lips.

Now that things were under control, Kate
quietly left the room.

“Lady Overton?” Richard asked, pausing in the
upstairs hall.

Richard had retrieved his wet coat from the
guest room. Although his dark hair was finally beginning to dry,
the coat was leaving a growing puddle around him. Kate ignored the
pool of water and smiled reassuringly.

“He’ll be all right, I think. The doctor
agrees it was a clean break. For the moment, there is no fever. If
there is no infection, Lord Winslow should be completely healed in
about six weeks,” Kate explained.

“You have my thanks and admiration,” Richard
told her. “You were very brave.”