by Jen YatesNZ
Jane rose and crossed to the bedside cabinet to retrieve his glass and the decanter of port, carrying them to the sideboard and pouring a half measure. Handing it to Hades, she settled back in her chair and he wished she’d press her knees to his again and hold his hands.
‘You’re comfortable to be around, Angular Jane’ he murmured, leaning his head against the chair and wrapping his hands around the port glass to keep from reaching for her. He’d never needed a woman for anything but sex. Didn’t now, he told himself.
‘Breathe one word of this to anyone—’
‘Don’t Hades!’ Her beautiful hazel eyes darkened to almost black. ‘Don’t belittle this moment with one of your flippant speeches. What you feel and shared with me tonight, runs deep, and needed to be spoken—’
‘Spewed,’ he muttered ruefully, pressing his head to the chair-back again and staring at the ceiling.
‘—and I was privileged to be the one you chose to share it with,’ she continued as if he’d not spoken.
‘You think I chose to share all that?’
Jane smiled and to his delight, rested her hand on his knee again. Who knew how satisfying that simple contact could be?
‘You’ve had practice with this sort of thing, I think,’ he said quietly.
‘Yes. My Aunt Beatrice. Do you remember her?’
‘Aunt Bea. Of course.’
‘Mama died when I was four and Aunt Bea came to live with us. She was the only mother I ever knew, a caring woman and a knowledgeable healer. Everything she knew she taught me and once I was old enough to be helpful I assisted with various illnesses, births and deaths. One learns to listen. Usually it’s not necessary to say much, nor to remember the confidences shared. The point is in the letting.’
‘As in blood-letting?’
‘Exactly,’ Jane murmured, and when she went to withdraw her hand from his knee, he trapped it with his own and they sat, neither needing to break the poignant silence.
A rasping cough from the far side of the room drew them back to the bedside. Hades helped his mother to sit up while Jane prepared another dose of the medicine.
He stepped back to allow Jane to administer it then settled by the bed as the Countess immediately asked fretfully for him between gasping breaths.
‘I’m here, Mama,’ he said. ‘Don’t fret yourself. I’m here. I’m staying. And I’m more sorry than I can say I didn’t believe in you—as Jase did.’
‘Too like—your father.’
***
From years of sleeping lightly at James’s bedside, Jane came suddenly awake as if she’d felt Lady Baxendene’s heat from across the room.
Hades slept on his arms at the side of the bed. Gently she laid a hand on his shoulder to rouse him. In the first moment of awakening he had the vulnerable look of a small child, but with awareness came the hardened shutters of self-consciousness and adulthood.
The Great Bax was back.
‘She’s burning up. We need to get her temperature down,’ she said urgently. ‘Pour some water from the pitcher into the bowl and bring it over here while I undress her.’
The light in his eyes said he meant to argue, but dimmed swiftly as he realized the only consideration was keeping his mother alive.
She’d stripped the bedclothes when the door burst open. A tall, silver-haired gentleman erupted into the room, hair standing on end, pale cheeks covered with bristle, and blue eyes dark with despair.
***
‘Ashdown! What the devil are you doing here?’ Bax demanded.
Ashdown didn’t appear to have heard him, his gaze flying to his mother, who Jane was about to strip out of her night-rail. What the devil? He needed to throw the man out, but he couldn’t move.
‘Georgi!’ That one desperate whisper propelled Ashdown across the room to lean over the bed and press his lips to her burning brow. ‘Christ, Georgi! You can’t leave me!’
The man’s body began to tremble. Bax was aware of Jane staring at him, as stunned as he. Her gaze slid back to Ashdown, then she moved quickly to place a chair behind the man’s knees.
‘Christ! She’s burning up!’ he rasped. ‘Do something, for God’s sake!’
Still trying to make sense of Ashdown’s presence in his mother’s bedchamber, it took Bax a moment to register Lowry’s quiet entry into the room.
Jane was quicker to recover.
‘Lowry! Good, can you help me here? Gentlemen, I must ask you to leave. Hades, could you order more water, and lots of sponging and drying cloths?’
Bax said, ‘Better Lowry goes to fetch what you need. I’ll help you. She’s my mother!’
Ashdown’s disheveled head came up and his blue eyes flashed flame across the bed at Bax.
‘This woman is mine,’ he snarled, making Bax’s eyebrows rise. ‘We’re lovers. I’ll do what must be done!’
‘How long have you been lovers?’ Bax ground out, the question shooting out of his mouth as if he was still a whining child.
‘Three years. And I’ve been caring for an invalid wife for the last six. I know what to do. Anything more you need to know will have to wait for later.’
Every male instinct bristling, Bax growled, ‘She’s my mother—’
Impatience rippling off him in waves, Ashdown countered, ‘I doubt she’d be happy knowing her son did this for her!’
They were standing off like a pair of stags before a violent charge and a clashing of antlers.
‘Hades!’ Jane snapped. ‘Lord Ashdown is right, and we don’t have time for you to fight a duel anyway! Your mother’s life’s at stake here!’
The adrenaline flowed out of his veins and clamping his jaw, he strode to the chairs on the other side of the room.
‘You’re right,’ he conceded tightly, ‘but I’m not leaving! I’ll be here if she wants me.’
Sitting with his head in his hands, he stared at the floor and occasionally glowered at Ashdown’s back. Lowry had returned and worked with the other two round the bed. He was the only one unable to help. Ashdown had the right of it. Mama would be horrified to think he’d seen her without clothing, let alone spent hours at her bedside sponging her naked body, trying to cool it down.
As Ashdown could—because they were lovers. His Mama and Lord Ashdown! Made sense he supposed. Lady Gloria Ashdown had remained his mother’s only real friend and she’d had a stroke six years ago, was bedridden. Mama spent a lot of time at Ashdown House helping to nurse her friend and keeping her company. Turned out it wasn’t just Lady Ashdown who was the drawcard—and for a moment he fell into the old pattern of thinking, of blaming Mama for Holly, wondering if Ashdown could be her father, before remembering the painful disclosure Mama had made earlier that evening.
Harry was Holly’s father and Mama wasn’t her mother at all. Holly was the person who should really be told—or was she? It might help her understand Mama’s lack of love for her. Not only was she Harry’s indiscretion, it was to keep the secret of her identity that he’d fought the duel that had cost his life. No wonder Mama had never been able to love Holly.
Occasionally he watched the three across the room. Jane serene and focused; Lowry, her tired face pinched with worry, Ashdown stripped to his shirt, sleeves rolled to the elbows, working over the patient with a familiarity that spoke of long practice at a sickbed as well as a close relationship.
Feeling helpless, he’d return to studying the carpet between his feet, trying to keep his mind busy, but in reality attuned to every word spoken by the three around the bed. When Ashdown suggested Lowry retire because she was exhausted from her long walk to Ashdown House to fetch him, Bax realized how the man had known Mama was so desperately ill. When Lowry refused to budge from the bedside using the argument they might need more supplies only she knew how to find, Bax added his own orders.
‘I’ll fetch whatever is needed, Lowry, and you will go to bed—as ordered. Otherwise you’ll not be fit to fetch and carry for Mama again tomorrow—and I promise you, she will need you tomorro
w.’
Dear God, he hoped he spoke the truth!
A thin runnel of tears ran down the maid’s leathery old cheeks as her gaze wavered between Lord Baxendene and her ailing mistress.
Rising he held out his arm to her.
‘Come,’ he said gruffly. ‘Come show me where the extra linens are kept and everything else I need to know.’
When he returned to the room, Ashdown was talking non-stop, his hands moving in a steady rhythm, rinsing the cloth in the cool water and running it over his mother’s body, as Jane was doing on the other side.
While the man’s cajoling and demanding never ceased, it was Jane who held his attention. Her face and neck were flushed with heat, perspiration beaded her lip and he longed to wipe her brow, do something to help.
‘Come on, Georgi! You can’t bale out on me now! I won’t let you,’ Ashdown muttered fiercely. ‘What the devil will I do without you? You know I can’t manage Glory alone! I need you. Glory needs you! You’re the only one of her friends who cares enough to still spend time with her. Goddammit woman, even Glory’s expecting you to be here for me when she’s gone! Please—’
Bax tried to blank it out, stoking up the fire, going down to the kitchens to rifle for sustenance. There was an edge of desperation to Ashdown’s voice now and Jane’s lips were rigid with determination. He had no idea if they would, or could, stop what they were doing long enough to drink a cup of tea and eat a piece of Cook’s delicious shortbread, but he had to do something to keep from losing his battle with the storm of emotion threatening to overwhelm him.
Keeping his eyes averted from the figure on the bed, he placed a cup of tea by each of them along with a couple of pieces of shortcake. Neither touched it, any more than he could partake himself.
He returned to staring at the carpet and wishing he knew how to pray. Couldn’t remember when he’d last talked to God. Had probably stopped believing it a useful exercise about the time Papa died. The idea of a caring God had been a cruel joke to his childish mind. What use was a heavenly father? He’d only wanted his earthly father and God had allowed him to be taken! Then Samantha. And Jason.
Was he expected to relinquish Mama as well? He needed more time to make up to her for the cruelty of his beliefs and words over the years. He couldn’t lose her now—
‘Hades? Hades! Wake up. The fever’s broken. I think she’ll pull through this.’
Slowly he lifted his head from his arms to stare up at the red-headed angel who, with her hair in a flaming tangle about her shoulders, looked more like the hoyden, Angular Jane, from long ago. The fog of sleep cleared and her words registered.
‘Mama’s—going to be all right?’
Jane nodded, weariness evident in her every sluggish movement.
Coming groggily to his feet, he folded her exhausted body in his arms.
‘Thank God!’ he whispered hoarsely. ‘Thank you.’
For long moments they clung, using each other for support. He didn’t want to let her go, but he needed to look at his mother, reassure himself what Jane said held true. Finally he towed her across the room to where his mother lay peacefully sleeping, Ashdown holding her hand while tears dried slowly on his silver-bristled cheeks.
He raised a bleary gaze to Bax, which nevertheless conveyed a strength of purpose Bax understood. The man made no apologies for his presence or any concessions as to his rights to be there.
Perhaps now he’d offer more of an explanation. His gaze slid across to the one partly uncovered window and he startled at the morning brightening without. Gently laying Georgi’s hand under the coverlet, Ashdown rose stiffly to his feet.
‘I can’t stay to talk right now, Baxendene. I’ve an invalid wife to see to and she’ll be anxiously awaiting news. She’d miss Georgi as much as I if she were taken from us. I’ll be back this evening—and if it suits you, we can talk then.’
Bax stared down at his mother, sleeping peacefully, the terrible flush gone from her cheeks, her breathing a little easier, then back up to Ashdown.
‘Thanks,’ he offered with the merest inclination of his head. He could spare no more for the man at this point. He dropped into the chair by the bed to sit and gaze at his Mama—and give thanks.
Jane walked with Ashdown to the door then came back to settle in the opposite chair.
‘I’ll walk you home so you can get some sleep,’ he said.
‘I’ll leave when Holly gets here. Why don’t you get some sleep?’
‘I doubt I’m ever going to sleep again. Fortunately I’ve had lots of practice at surviving without it. Are you sure she’ll be all right?’
‘She’s strong. Unlike James.’
He detected a weary note of loss in her voice and thought to question her more about the man she’d married, but Holly’s arrival stilled his tongue. For the first time in his life he felt ill at ease around his little sister and knew he couldn’t let it show for she’d know something wasn’t right.
But he needn’t have worried. She was more concerned on discovering they’d both been up all night and with listening intently for Jane’s instructions for Lady Baxendene’s continued care and medication. Lowry arrived in the middle of this so Bax sent her to organize a breakfast tray for his sister. Promising Holly he’d see Jane home, he firmly ushered her out of the room.
He couldn’t wait to get away from Holly and the momentous secret he still hadn’t decided if he should share with her—and he wasn’t ready to let Jane go though he knew she must be dropping.
Carrying her medicine chest in one hand, and with her bare fingers held firmly in the other, he guided her down the stairs.
‘Have breakfast with me before you leave? Please, Jane,’ he added in husky desperation when he saw her hesitate.
Thankfully she allowed him to lead her along to the breakfast room at the back of the house where weak sunlight already filtered in and the small fire was chasing off the morning chill.
Garnet was before them, fussing over the table settings.
‘Good morning, my Lord. Lady Rotherby. How is her Ladyship this morning?
‘We’re hoping the worst is over, Garnet. And we have Lady Rotherby to thank for that, otherwise it may have been a different outcome.’
‘Then we’re indeed grateful,’ the butler said with feeling. ‘What does your Ladyship desire for breakfast?’
‘I’m happy I could help, Garnet. Just something simple, thank you. Like hot chocolate and muffins?’
‘Certainly, my Lady,’ and the man vanished out the door.
Bax led Jane across to the window to wait while the servants loaded the breakfast buffet, then stood staring out onto dew-spangled lawns. The longing to hold her close was almost unbearable and it wasn’t just that he desired her as a woman. She was the embodiment of so much missing from his life, so much he’d purposely eschewed, telling himself he had no need, no time for it.
Jane represented comfort, nurture, peace, serenity, goodness; female attributes, but not the ones he usually desired and pursued. He wanted to hold her and have her hold him back; have all that gentleness focused on him. Like he was a needy child.
He squared his shoulders and firmed his jaw.
‘I know I don’t need to ask for your discretion about what I told you earlier concerning Holly—or with regards to Ashdown—’
Her chin came up and she shot him a fierce glare. No gentle serenity in her eyes now. He raised a hand to stay the heated words rising to her lips.
‘Hush. I had to say it. I don’t know how to thank you for last night, Jane. You can’t know what it means to me Mama still lives.—Nor do I know what the devil I’m to do about Holly! Do I tell her?—Or not? She has a right to know, I think, and I should probably wait until Mama is well enough to talk to me properly about it.’
‘And with Holly should she desire it.’
Feeling an easing of the tight bands around his heart he led Jane to the sideboard and they made their selections.
A comfortable silence fe
ll between them, each too weary to do more than give their bodies the sustenance required. When they’d finished, Bax rose and offered Jane his arm. Without apology he drew her into his embrace, tucking her head into his neck and inhaling the warm orange blossom scent he’d already come to think of as her signature.
‘Thank you, Angela Jane,’ he murmured into her hair, inordinately pleased when her arms encircled him and held tight for a moment. ‘How can I seduce you now? ’Cos you know I’m going to have to—one of these days, don’t you?’
For a moment her hands stayed firm then she leant back and patted his cheek.
‘You’re delirious from lack of sleep,’ she told him in a matter of fact voice somewhat dampening to his ego. ‘And so am I if I heard what I think I did. Take me home.’
With a rueful grin he led her into the hall, helped her into her bonnet and cloak, threw on his greatcoat over his shirtsleeves and jammed a hat on his head. He decided the silence between them as they walked back to Brisco House could be described as ‘companionable’.
Chapter 4
After checking with Holly he returned downstairs to his study where accounts and letters were neatly piled on a corner of the blotter along with the details for a property he was considering purchasing between Bancombe Park and The Chase. Settling at the desk with these last he began reading. Riverdene was a smaller property, all fertile river meadows suited for growing crops—
He was woken by the dream sound of his father and Jason, riding away from him, laughing, leaving him—alone. That again! He was a man grown. Not alone!
Shoving himself upright, he rang for Fosse and ordered a bath. Feeling in control again but edgy, he knew he had to get out of the house. Holly still sat with Mama, and Selena had joined her.
‘I have to go out, but I’ll be back to take over before dinner,’ he promised. ‘And if all’s well, leave Lowry in charge for a while.’
‘Everything’s fine,’ Holly averred then put her head on one side to survey him. ‘No matter the finery, big brother, you still look as if you’ve been up all night! Why don’t you get some sleep?’
