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Authors: When Someone Loves You

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Stepping back from his handiwork, James Stewart smiled. “I believe we’re done now.”

“Will he live?” Abby asked, apprehensive in every word.

“Do you think me incompetent?” But he was clearly teasing, his clear blue eyes gleaming with amusement.

“What if the wounds fester?” Abby needed guarantees.

“You must see that they don’t. No, no, my dear, don’t take alarm. I can see you don’t like my humor when you’re so distressed. I will leave instructions for the wound cleaning,” he added as he washed his hands. “I have studied in the Levant and their medicine is much superior to ours. The wounds will not fester. My word on it.”

“What about all the blood he’s lost?” Eddie asked, still concerned despite the doctor’s high spirits.

“Come now, Eddie, Duff has the constitution of a horse. Don’t worry. As for his blood loss, we will see that he is fed some bracing broth.” The doctor set down the towel, ran his hands through his sandy hair, and smiled at Abby. “I will leave recipes for your staff.”

“Your confidence is reassuring, Doctor.” Abby allowed herself the smallest sigh of relief. “And it seems as though you know Duff.”

“We met several years ago—on a caravan to Timbuktu. Eddie found us both when we became lost in a sandstorm. We stayed in touch, and when the marquis came back from Waterloo, Eddie consulted me.”

“With excellent results,” Eddie acknowledged.

The doctor dipped his head and smiled.

“Might I ask you to stay the night with us?” Abby asked. “In the event of complications,” she added. “You could have your own room, of course. I would just like you nearby should we need you. And if you’d be interested in one of my girls, you may have your pick.”

“Certainly, I’ll stay if you wish. And while I appreciate your offer of female company, I’m happily married, so I shall politely refuse.”

“You’re a rare novelty in my business, Doctor. I don’t often see your kind. It’s refreshing to know happy marriages exist.”

“We who live outside the peerage can marry for love. With no grand acres or titles to consider, settlements and dowries are inconsequential.”

Abby smiled. “I feel as though I’ve witnessed two miracles tonight. Duff’s life is saved and I’ve met a happily married man.”

“And don’t forget, Walingame is gone,” Eddie added. “Good things come in threes, ain’t that true?”

“True indeed,” she replied cheerfully, suddenly feeling as though Duff was assured a future. “Now, gentlemen, allow me to have a bottle of champagne sent up. We should offer a toast for Duff’s speedy recovery.”

Everyone agreed, but before they enjoyed their toast, Eddie had a message sent to Duff’s parents.

Chapter
23
 

D
uff’s parents didn’t receive Eddie’s message until the following day, the missive having traveled north and then south again before reaching Westerlands House in Portman Square.

The duke and duchess had already become mildly concerned about Duff’s whereabouts by the time the message was delivered. While he’d ostensibly come to London, Duff wasn’t at his home in St. James Square, nor was he at theirs, or anywhere else he might have normally been found.

When the messenger arrived, by good fortune, the duke was alone in his study. After absorbing the shocking news, he immediately asked where he might find his son. Reassured that Duff was in good hands with Dr. Stewart, he quizzed the man about the details surrounding the shooting. After being apprised of the events, he graciously thanked the man, told him to relay the message to Miss Fleming that they would come to fetch Duff forthwith, and, in a great show of courtesy, walked the man out himself.

But once he returned to his study, he shut the door, and, leaning back against it, felt the blood literally drain from his face. He stood very still for a brief time, silently rendering thanks to all the divinities on high, grateful to the depths of his soul that his son still lived. Then, drawing in a sustaining breath, he absently ran his hands down the front of his waistcoat, pushed away from the door, and left his study. Elspeth must be told. The question was how best to tell her. As he debated his options, he took the stairs to the first floor, walked to the back of the house where his wife’s sitting room overlooked the garden, and opened the door.

The duchess looked up from her letter writing as Julius walked in. “Have you seen a ghost?” she asked, immediately coming to her feet. “It’s Duff, isn’t it? Tell me, tell me this instant—is he alive?”

“He’s alive.” He didn’t question how she knew. She had a sixth sense about their children.

“Thank God,” she whispered, sitting down suddenly as though her legs had given way, the frothy blue muslin of her gown following her down in a pouf.

“But he’s been shot,” Julius said, moving toward her.

Her gaze came up. “Shot?” While she’d always feared her son’s involvement in dueling, Duff was never hurt. “It could only have been treachery. It was, wasn’t it?”

“Walingame shot Duff, and yes, treachery was involved. The earl is dead by other hands, I was told.”

“Good. He deserves to die,” the duchess said with steely resolve. “Not just for harming our son, but for a lifetime of infamy.” The duchess was a lioness when it came to her children. “Where is Duff? How is he?” She seemed to rally herself in order to ask, in a very small voice, “Tell me honestly—how grievous are his wounds?”

Having reached his wife, the duke bent down and scooped her into his arms. “He’s alive—that’s all that matters.” Sitting down on her chair, he settled her on his lap and held her close. “He’s at Abby Fleming’s gambling house, where this disgrace took place. I’m having the carriage brought around and we’ll go and fetch him.”

“Isn’t Miss Fleming Duff’s friend from years ago?” Elspeth said as though she needed to make mindless conversation in order to keep her fears at bay. “I remember him speaking of her just recently. Or was it—”

“She
is
an old friend,” the duke interposed soothingly. “But not a woman of conventional form,” he added guardedly.

“You needn’t be so cautious, Julius. I know who my son’s friends are. Oh, dear,” Elspeth softly exclaimed, feeling as though the angel of death had suddenly entered the room. “Tell me our boy is going to be fine.”

“He will be, darling. Don’t worry.”

“Promise me?” Her eyes were huge with worry. “You must promise. I just felt the most terrible sensation.”

“I promise,” he murmured, dropping a light kiss on her forehead.

“Thank you, darling,” Elspeth whispered, resting her head on his shoulder. Julius always dealt with the world with such certainty. He was her unassailable refuge, and always had been. “And forgive my nerves. But Duff has skirted death so many times, one wonders when fate might turn on him. However, today is not the day, is it?” she said more briskly, sitting up again. “There now—I’m better,” she added, patting her cheeks to bring back the color.

For a moment Julius was reminded of the first time he called on her at her first husband’s home. Ultimately, she’d dismissed her apprehensions in the same determined way. “We have had our share of crises, darling,” he said with a faint smile. “And we’ve survived them all.”

“This too will pass, won’t it?” And before he could answer, she jumped to her feet. “Do let’s go and bring our boy home.”

Rising from the chair, he took her hand in his and moved toward the door. “I also called for a dray wagon,” he said. “I doubt Duff’s in any condition to sit in a carriage.”

The duchess smiled. “And think—we’ll have our darling boy back home by the time the rest of the family returns from their shopping and clubs. Although, I’m not taking this lightly,” she attested. “I’m just vastly pleased our Duff is alive.”

“As am I, darling,” the duke agreed. “He took two shots very near to his heart, though, so there’s still a certain element of danger.”

“Eddie’s with him now?”

“Yes, of course,” he replied as they moved out into the hallway. “And Dr. Stewart tended his wounds.”

Elspeth gave her husband a fleeting look of reproach. “Why didn’t you say Dr. Stewart was with him? Really, my dear, you could have saved me considerable apprehension.” Then her tone brightened. “Young James is quite extraordinary, though, so all is well. He will have Duff back in good health in no time.”

Not inclined to argue with his wife, the duke only smiled. “I’m sure you’re right, my dear.” Although the messenger had conveyed a more sobering report. But sober or not, Julius was sanguine about his son’s recovery. After what Duff had survived at Waterloo, clearly, he wasn’t a man who would ease into his grave with any complacency.

And on another positive note, the duke mused, with Walingame dead, he was saved the trouble of killing him.

 

 

At the same time the Duke and Duchess of Westerlands were en route to King’s Place, Annabelle Foster and her family were aboard a ferry taking them from the mainland to the Isle of Wight. They’d pressed straight through on their journey south, sleeping and eating as best they could in the coach. Concerned with possible pursuit by Walingame, Annabelle refused to tarry any longer than it took to change horses at the post stops.

It was a glorious, sunny day, with a light breeze off the sea, the docks at Ryde in sight across the sparkling water. With luck, they would find a cottage to rent on the far side of the island where they could settle in and enjoy the summer. Molly’s beau Tom had come with them, both for Molly’s comfort and as a male escort to the small group of females. He was young, strong, and devoted to Molly and his daughter. As for Annabelle, she welcomed the protection he offered.

She was hoping, of course, that Walingame would relinquish his pursuit. But knowing him as she did, she didn’t allow herself to let down her guard. Constant vigilance was called for when dealing with a man like the earl.

 

 

Duff was lightly sedated when the duke and duchess arrived. While Dr. Stewart had returned home that morning, he’d left instructions for the care of his patient. The doctor was of the opinion that the body healed best when not constantly battling pain, and with the severity of Duff’s wounds, he’d prescribed a mild narcotic regimen.

At the sound of his mother’s voice, Duff’s eyelids fluttered open and he came awake enough to recognize his parents.

“We’re going to take you home, darling,” Elspeth said, leaning in to kiss him gently on the cheek.

He smiled faintly before returning to his morphine-induced doze.

Turning from the bed, the duchess offered her hand to Abby. “I wish to thank you for helping save our son’s life. We are most grateful. Duff always speaks highly of you, Miss Fleming.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” Abby replied, blushing when she hadn’t known herself to blush in years. In fact, if Eddie hadn’t insisted she stay, she would have been elsewhere. “Lord Darley is a very special man.”

“We think so as well, don’t we, Julius?” The duchess addressed her husband informally when most in the fashionable world didn’t.

“Yes, my dear. He’s very special. And allow me to express my gratitude as well, Miss Fleming,” the duke said, bowing faintly to Abby. “We are in your debt.”

“Feel free to come and visit Duff whenever you wish,” Elspeth offered, smiling brightly. “I’m sure he would enjoy seeing you.”

“I would like that very much.” Abby understood from whom Duff had inherited his great charm. His parents were uncommonly genuine for persons of wealth and rank.

 

 

In due course, Duff was conveyed downstairs on a stretcher, and placed in the wagon that had been cushioned with feather beds. After taking leave of Miss Fleming with further promises to see each other again, the Westerlands made their way home.

Duff, still dozing, was installed in his former rooms. Eddie went off to sleep for the first time in two days. And the duke and duchess retired to an adjacent sitting room so they would be near their son should he wake.

“Dr. Stewart will come to check on Duff tonight,” Julius noted. “He sent a message.”

“Eddie says there was no question that Dr. Stewart saved Duff’s life.” Elspeth exhaled softly. “How fortunate for Duff that he was in the city when this terrible event transpired.”

“Yes, it was fortunate indeed. But, as you suspected, he was in London looking for Miss Foster. He wants us to find her. You heard him as he was being placed in the wagon.”

“The sweet boy could barely speak or think and yet he insisted she be found,” the duchess said with a benevolent smile. “How like Duff to be so single-minded,” she added like a doting mother, questioning neither her son’s motives nor reasons. “Naturally, we must find her.”

“I assume she ran from Walingame. Or so I gathered from Miss Fleming.”

“Is that what you two were talking about so earnestly while Duff was being carried downstairs?”

“Duff confided in her about his feelings for Annabelle Foster. He talked of being in love. Miss Fleming was surprised, naturally.”

“I should think so. You must admit, the word
love
and Duff have not had even a nodding acquaintance all these many years.”

“You know Annabelle Foster has a certain reputation,” the duke cautiously pointed out.

“Of course she has a reputation. She’s an actress. As was Lady Derby before she married the earl, and Mrs. Jordan even as she presented the Duke of Clarence with his tenth child. I must say, I’ve never liked the disparity between the scandals of the aristocracy and those of people of lesser means. It’s quite unfair.”

The duke’s heavy-lidded gaze was measured. “Nevertheless, it exists.”

“Pshaw. I care nothing for scandal.” Elspeth cast an amused look her husband’s way. “If I did, would I have fallen in love with you? Really, darling, your scandalous reputation was quite enticing, if you must know. Or perhaps you did know.”

The duke met her gaze with a look of improbable innocence. “All I knew, my dear, was that my pursuit of you was in the way of a
force majeure
. You enchanted me completely.”

“How very pretty of you,” Elspeth said with a grin. “And do I still enchant you?”

“Need you ask? It’s quite unfashionable to be in love with one’s wife and yet I am, still and always.”

“We are very lucky, are we not?” Elspeth softly murmured. “Do you think,” she went on in a musing tone, “that Duff might truly be in love with Miss Foster?”

The duke had his doubts, but he said instead, “He seems to think so.”

“Well, then, we must bring her to him. How do you propose to find her?”

The duke shrugged faintly. “England is large and it appears she doesn’t wish to be found.”

“Surely you’re not going to let a little difficulty like that deter you,” his wife said with a challenging look.

The duke laughed. “I gather I’m not.”

“No, of course you’re not. If our darling boy thinks he’s in love with Miss Foster, surely you understand what a boon her presence would be to his recovery. I daresay, just seeing her will immediately revive his spirits.”

“No doubt,” the duke replied drily. “In any event, I propose to hire some Bow Street Runners. They have contacts throughout the country. And with Miss Foster’s celebrity, she will find it more difficult to hide. In fact, the next time Duff wakens, I shall ask him how many people might be in Miss Foster’s party. Although, in the way of a small warning, my dear—the lady may not wish to see Duff.”

“Surely, you jest. Our son? You are quite mistaken, my dear. And didn’t you say that she was running from Walingame, not Duff?”

“It was information I received third-hand from Miss Fleming. I can’t be certain of its accuracy.”

“Well, I am most certain. Mark my words, she will be overjoyed to see Duff again.”

“And you are prescient in all things?” he said with amusement.

“When it comes to our children, I am, my dear, as you well know. Speaking of children, we must decide how much or how little to tell the girls and Giles. Until Miss Foster is found, I suggest we say nothing about her. Gossip will be rampant enough about this terrible shooting without adding more salacious details to the mix. And it does no good to ask people to keep such things confidential. Even if the children scrupulously adhere to our wishes, the servants hear everything. If we tell anyone that we are looking for Miss Foster, the news will be bruited about at every breakfast table in London tomorrow.” She lifted one brow. “If not sooner.”

“I agree.”

“You always agree,” she said with a teasing smile. “That must be why we get along so well.”

He winked. “It’s exactly why we get along so well.”

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