Desire by Design

by Heather Boyd

  “I hope you’re right. You should get some sleep soon, Miss Hillcrest. There isn’t anything we can do but wait.”

  Sylvia shook her head. “I promised to stay with her, and I will.”

  Keeping vigil, applying cool compresses to Lady Wharton’s brow, dribbling a little water into her mouth every hour, and challenging her to wake up was all Sylvia could do to keep her own spirits up. Sylvia had kept the same vigil for her father. She had wanted her father to die in the end, but not Lady Wharton. There was still a chance she could recover. She was strong—strong-minded, too—and had wanted to survive this. Father hadn’t.

  Lizzy had to live to see those grandchildren she so desperately wanted come into the world.

  When the physician slipped away, Sylvia adjusted her chair and took hold of Lady Wharton’s hand again. Perhaps she’d close her eyes for just a moment. If the lady roused at all, Sylvia would feel the change and wake to see to her every need.

  Chapter 14

  “What do you mean, she’s not receiving? Why?” Alexander demanded.

  Mother’s butler lowered his gaze respectably. “I regret that is all I am allowed to say, my lord.”

  “Where is she?”

  “Lady Wharton is not at home, my lord.”

  “Damn that woman. She’s gone and left me with her children and absconded to enjoy herself somewhere else.” Alexander turned around for the door but then shook his head.

  No, Mother would never have left her daughters to make a match with just his help alone. She’d want to plan their weddings, as she’d always threatened to do with his. “No. I do not believe a word of it. She’s hiding from me.”

  The man stared at him, but offered up no other hints to her whereabouts except for a slight coloring of his cheeks. He was lying. Most likely the butler was under orders to say nothing of her whereabouts, even to him. Alexander turned for the stairs. “She’s probably sulking in her room. I’ll find her myself.”

  “My lord, you cannot go up there!” the butler protested. “I promised.”

  “Try and stop me,” he urged, taking the stairs two at a time in his haste. It was high time he took his mother in hand and stopped all the nonsense he’d allowed to go on for too long. She should never have taken a lease on this house. She should have written to him about her desire to come to London. He would have made all the necessary arrangements. They should be escorting his sisters about society and vetting their suitors together, not him alone.

  Alexander had not been upstairs in this house before, but the master suite was most likely in the front of the townhouse overlooking Berkley Square. He headed there first.

  A pair of oak doors were shut against him, and he grasped the handles to throw the pair wide, then looked around eagerly.

  But Alexander was confronted by the sight of a middle-aged gentleman rolling down his sleeves beside a curtained bed.

  Alexander staggered back a few steps. “Who the hell are you?”

  “Quiet!” the man cried, rushing toward him, one hand raised. “Keep your voice down, sir.”

  Alexander was not about to comply with that request. “I’ll talk as loud as I like, and you will explain yourself, sir. This is my mother’s bedchamber and it’s the middle of the day. Have you no honor?”

  Another middle-aged fellow was suddenly standing beside the first, arms full of bloody rags, and looking frankly terrified of Alexander. “My lord.”

  The pair were complete strangers to him, but at least one had the wits to know he was speaking to a peer. Alexander directed his attention to that man only. “Where the hell is my mother?”

  Silence reigned until a frail female voice called out, “Let him pass.”

  The doctor’s immediately stepped aside.

  Alexander walked around the bed—and then swore out loud.

  The frail woman he’d heard speak was his own Sylvia Hillcrest, and his mother was…

  He stared at her shrunken form in the bed, and his breath caught. Swaddled by bandages and propped up on the bed, Mother lie deathly still. He glanced sideways at the man holding the bloody rags. “What has happened?”

  The first physician rushed to his side and began to whisper, “The surgery was a complete success, but recovery has been slow. Very slow indeed.”

  Alexander blinked at him. “What surgery?”

  The doctors explained, and after the first rush of words seeped into his brain, Alexander had to fumble for a bedpost to support himself. He was appalled. “Did you not think to inform me?”

  “It was the marchioness’ express wish that you not be informed until we were certain she would die or live,” the second man announced. “We remain hopeful, my lord.”

  For the first time in his adult life, he didn’t know what to do—and he didn’t like it. “Leave me,” he ordered, and the pair, after a brief consultation, scurried from the room together.

  “They must return to care for the wound,” Sylvia informed him, wringing a piece of cloth between her reddened fingers. She stood, crossed to the basin, and wet the fabric from a jug. “She has a fever and has not spoken since the surgery took place.”

  “Why are you here?”

  “I’m very worried about her.”

  “You’re worried about her?” he bit out savagely. “Do you think that I would not be?”

  Sylvia lifted her gaze to the window, and the view of Berkley Square. “I tried to persuade her to take you into her confidence, but she refused to consider it. Made me promise not to tell anyone her business.”

  “You should have known better than to make any promise’s like that!”

  Sylvia shrugged and returned to the bedside. She lay a cool cloth over Mama’s brow and sat down in the chair by the bed. Her head turned a little toward him. “You might find it easy to deny your mother, but I’m not so cold-hearted as you must be. She knew the risk was great, and that she’d struggle to survive it. It was the only way for her to live a long life, and she made me promise not to tell anyone—especially you.”

  “You should have sent for me immediately.”

  A flicker of contempt touched her expression. “She was adamant that you were not to be told. She did not want anyone to see her like this, especially you. If I broke that one promise, should I be willing to break the one I made to you, too?”

  “That’s different.”

  “It is exactly the same to me.” Sylvia turned over the damp cloth on his mother’s brow and leaned close to her ear. “Open your eyes, my lady. He’s finally come to see you, if you haven’t heard him shouting at everyone yet. You don’t want to miss him while he’s here.”

  Alexander studied his mother’s features but saw no sign of a response to Sylvia’s request. Sylvia sat back…and he was astonished to see her wipe tears from her face. “I had hoped your presence might bring her round finally. Half the square must have heard you yelling by now.”

  Alexander set his jaw and glared. This woman presumed too much to speak to him in such a way. Didn’t she appreciate the gravity of her reckless disregard for good sense? She had conspired with Mother to keep him in ignorance, and blamed him. He’d known she wasn’t like other women, but this was beyond the pale. “What is it you want from me?”

  She seemed taken aback. “Nothing at all. But you should start acting like her son and give a damn about her welfare before she’s gone.”

  He ground his teeth. “I would have if she’d informed me of her intentions.”

  Her expression hardened. “She tried for a year to speak to you alone about this, but you were always too busy for private conversation. She gave up trying to reach you and made this decision on her own. Surely you must have sensed her distress? I only found out the night before the operation because I dared to pry into her long silences.”

  Alexander would not be berated by the woman who’d lifted her skirts to him. “And that is another thing. How dare you ingratiate yourself with my mother just to get close to me again?”

  “Do you really
think so little of me? I suppose you must.” She shrugged again. “I became friends with her before I knew she was your mother.”

  “Then you should have withdrawn that friendship.”

  She shook her head. “I could not sever our friendship the night before her surgery. Not even for you. Your mother was terrified. Besides, it’s not as if what you and I shared was more than a fling.”

  “It certainly isn’t now.”

  She smiled tiredly, and then lifted a watery gaze to his. “I cannot understand how you don’t want to be around the woman who gave birth to you. She is so brave, witty, and so very lonely, too. You should love her.”

  “Of course I love my mother.”

  “Prove it. Give her what she wants before she dies.”

  He bristled at her demand. He didn’t know what confidences Mother had shared about her life, and his, but there was one topic Mother simply would not be quiet about—him making a match. “I’ll not be blackmailed to marry you.”

  “I don’t want to marry you!” she claimed. “All your mother wants is for you to see her. To be part of your life. Open your ears and stop being in such a hurry about everything. Women like to know they have your attention, and would it hurt you to display affection? You’re lucky to have her.”

  Alexander was not accustomed to being dressed down by anyone, least of all a woman who’d lifted her skirts for him once. “How dare you. Get out. Leave.”

  “No.” Sylvia lifted the cloth from Mother’s brow and stood. “I promised Lizzy I would stay until she was on the mend, and I will not break my word. Not now.”

  The use of his mother’s nickname, and Sylvia turning her back on him, made him see red. He would not be ignored. Sylvia had gone too far and needed to be taught her place. Defiance must be quashed immediately. She would learn he was a man not to be trifled with. “If you won’t leave of your own accord, I’ll do it for you.”

  He captured Sylvia and easily lifted her into his arms. He held her tight against his chest…but then his feet refused to obey. Dull, tired green eyes turned up to his, luscious pink lips trembled, and he fought—with some difficulty—the urge to kiss her.

  Giving into passion, in any form, was not the way he’d assert his authority with her.

  He hardened his heart, threw his chin up high, away from the temptation of her mouth, and pivoted to face the door. As he headed there with her nestled snug and warm against his chest, she started up a weak protest by kicking her shapely legs. “Wharton, what are you doing?”

  “Asserting my rights,” he promised, trying not to look down as he firmed his grip. The woman’s curves still appealed to him, and even though he’d had her once already, he was still tempted. He fought her appeal for all he was worth.

  “Someone will see us together. Put me down!”

  He shook his head. He wouldn’t relent. He was too annoyed with Sylvia, too worried about his mother to care about anyone seeing him like this. To say he was upset was an understatement.

  It didn’t matter that Sylvia had been on the mark about his failures with his family. That didn’t mean he had to like hearing it from her.

  The best solution was to put a distance between them as quickly as possible. He continued with his original destination in mind and carried her to the head of the staircase.

  “Where are you taking me?”

  “I’m putting you out for the night.”

  Silence reined, long and awkward. Alexander risked a peek at Sylvia’s face and saw mulishness written all over it.

  “I am offended by that remark,” she nearly growled at him. “I am not a cat.”

  “But you do have claws,” he noted, thinking of how pleasant it had been when her nails scraped over his bare back when they’d made love.

  More words came out of her mouth then, but Alexander closed his ears to her and concentrated on not tripping down the stairs and killing them both. Sylvia might have been a quiet and polite woman once. Now, though, she squawked and complained all the way to the front hall without pause.

  He would be seeing to his mother’s recovery personally now with no help—interference—from her.

  Mama’s butler materialized before him in the hall, startled and gaping, and Alexander ordered the front door opened.

  “My lord, really,” he cried. “Is that any way to treat a lady?”

  It was how he was going to treat this one, for the time being at least, whether she liked it or not. He was pleased when the butler finally did as he was ordered, but Sylvia redoubled her struggles in front of their audience as soon as she saw the world outside. She was a slippery little morsel. A woman he’d like to tame if he had the time.

  “Put me down, you great beast of a man!”

  He did. On the townhouses front steps.

  The moment Sylvia seemed steady on her feet and met his gaze, he shut the door in her face.

  Fists pounded on the wood. “Wharton, no! Let me in. Let. Me. In!”

  “Not a chance.” He looked around with satisfaction, feeling he’d won a significant battle.

  The butler backed away, eyes wide with fright.

  Alexander jabbed a finger in his direction. “Never let it be said that I’m not in charge here. Do not let that woman through that door again or I will throw everyone else out, too.”

  The butler gulped. “Yes, my lord.”

  Alexander rushed back up the stairs. The physicians were milling in the hall, so he urged them back into Mother’s bedchamber and demanded a retelling of the operation, and everything that had happened up until that very moment.

  According to them, Sylvia had first appeared at Mother’s side on the morning of the surgery, three days ago. She’d taken no part in Mama’s earlier consultations. The physician’s had tried to dissuade her from staying but Mama had wanted her to remain, so she had.

  “My lord, your mother is a very ill woman.”

  His mother lay barely breathing upon her bed. Her chest was so thickly bandaged, her bosom seemed twice the expected size to him. And Alexander was completely unnerved by the way she lay so deathly still. “Why isn’t she awake?”

  “The surgery was very hard on her,” he explained. “She had fainted well before it was over, but now perhaps the shock of it…the pain she suffered has proven too much for her mind.”

  Alexander swallowed the lump forming in his throat before he attempted to speak. “Will she really recover? The truth, if you please.”

  “We don’t know, my lord. We hope.”

  He nodded slowly, reeling still but grateful for their honesty and optimism.

  The pair shuffled their feet like naughty children. “We were against the marchioness not telling you about her troubles.”

  He remembered, then, Sylvia’s accusations of neglect. “When did she decide on this course of action?”

  “We first discussed her concerns over a year ago.”

  A year? So Sylvia had been telling him the truth there, too. How had he missed the signs Mama was unwell?

  He studied his mother…and then lowered his gaze, filled with shame.

  Mother had tried countless times to get him alone, and he’d fobbed her off with excuses, promising to talk later. He’d not gone home for Christmas because he was sure she only wanted to discuss marriage and the succession. He’d ignored her. Neglected her.

  He’d neglected one of his most important responsibilities.

  If he’d not been so impatient with her, she might have been spared so much pain.

  “We?”

  “My lord, perhaps you would allow us to start at the beginning.” Alexander nodded. “Your mother came to me after feeling a lump in her breast last season. She said she had pain when her maid laced up her undergarments too tight, and that her arm, too, seemed afflicted at times—tender and heavier than the other. The lump was examined as best could be managed with dignity then, and upon her return visit, it did seem to have increased in size in the half a year since the first discussion.

  “I
recommended your mother visit a brilliant man of medicine in Bristol last year for a second opinion. After a discreet meeting between them, he regretfully confirmed my fears. After consulting with my colleagues over the winter, and a further examination by other learned men of similar vocation, we all concluded that surgery to remove the lump might be her ladyship’s only chance to avoid certain death.”

  Mother had spent a year fearing for her life, while he’d been enjoying his own.

  It did not surprise him now that Mother had been pushed to make such a decision on her own. She couldn’t have waited much longer for him to find time for her.

  Alexander moved to the side of the bed and picked up his mother’s limp hand. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d actually held her hand, but her skin was hot to the touch today. As much as he might have tried to avoid her in the past, he didn’t want to lose her. “Did you succeed?”

  “Indeed, yes. Our colleagues were quite excited to view so large a specimen,” the first man enthused.

  “How large? No, don’t answer that.” His stomach clenched with worry and revulsion.

  The second fellow, obviously more attuned to delivering bad news with tact, shushed the first fellow. “We do understand the need for protecting the sensibilities of family members, but I must tell you that the extent of the growth was more than we anticipated, and made removal of the entire left breast absolutely necessary.”

  Alexander nearly gagged but held it in. “You could have killed her.”

  “Your mother was well aware of the risks involved, and she took her time in deciding to go through with it. She could not be dissuaded, and has provided letters absolving us of any wrongdoing, should she perish.”

  “How good of her,” he said in tones dripping of sarcasm.

  The second fellow threw a warning glance at his colleague before he spoke again. “The next weeks will be crucial. Lady Wharton needs rest and loving support if she is to find strength.”

  “For what?”