His voice faded as blackness descended.
*
After another long night, Kate sat in front of the mirror and gazed at her reflection as Rebecca brushed her hair. The fresh air had tinged her cheeks with color, but her eyes looked flat and dull with shadows painted beneath. “I’ll ride today, Rebecca. Please tell James to have my mare saddled after breakfast.”
It rained in the night, and the sunshine was brilliant on the wet hedgerows. Kate rode the small mare named Daisy over the estate lands, breathing the perfumed air. They clattered across the bridge and cantered through the slanting shadows in the meadow. She pulled back on the reins when she realized she was near the oak tree. She’d subconsciously retraced her steps to the place where Robert had proposed. But only after she’d requested he ask her properly. He hadn’t wanted to marry her and must have been angry that his uncle placed him in that position.
She dismounted and leaned against the rough bark of the gnarled old tree remembering his first kiss with painful longing. A thrush sang in the branches above her. She paused to listen, but for once, the sweet sound did little to improve her mood, and she mounted again, riding through the lanes to the village. The villagers bowed or curtsied as she rode along the narrow, cobbled lanes to the harbor front.
A cloud of screaming gulls followed the fishing boats out on the water and two fishermen on the wharf raised their hands in greeting.
Warmed a little by their friendly faces, she began to consider how she might make a home for herself here. Eventually, she expected she would recover and love would lose its power over her. Robert might visit to secure his heir, and she would receive him coolly and wave him goodbye when he left. She gasped and shivered at the thought. Who was she fooling?
With the village and the harbor behind her, she cantered over the fields, fighting the numb hollowness in her heart. Might there be a role for her here? It was surely her duty to become involved in village affairs. She resolutely ignored how lonely that sounded and entered the castle grounds where the groom hurried forward to help her dismount.
Kate had just entered the house with the intention of changing into a morning gown when a vehicle clattered into the castle forecourt. She ran to the drawing room window to see Robert’s phaeton pull up outside. She recognized Joss Gifford, the groom from St. Malin House. A body slumped beside him on the seat.
Her blood ran cold. Robert!
As a commotion arose, she rushed out into the forecourt. Robert was unconscious. The groom lifted him from the phaeton and carried him toward the door. “Highwaymen held us up outside Bodmin, my lady, in the Cardinham Woods,” Gifford said as she hurried behind him. “’Is lordship picked off one of them. But the other one shot ’em and got away.”
Robert hung limp and silent over the man’s shoulder.
Kate gasped. Blood dripped from his fingers, trailing over the stone.
She swung round to address her groom just returning from stabling her horse. “Ride for the surgeon. Take my husband’s stallion. He’s faster. Don’t come back without the doctor.”
The groom turned and sped toward the stables. Robert was carried into the house. To see her strong husband struck down, made Kate’s knees threaten to give way.
“Take him to his chamber. Send up a warming pan and light the fire.” Kate picked up her skirts and hurried after them up the staircase. Her pulse thudded in her throat. Robert would not die. He could not. She would never allow it.
In his chamber, he lay still on the bed. “Robert?” Her voice sounded high pitched and strange to her ears. She examined his white face as the footman pulled off his boots. He didn’t stir.
Chapter Twenty-One
“Kate?” Robert opened his eyes.
“It’s all right, my love. The doctor is here.”
“Raise his head a little,” Doctor Innes instructed. “We shall have to dose his lordship with laudanum before I dig for the ball.”
“Isn’t that rather a lot, doctor?” Kate asked, after several spoonsful had been administered.
“Don’t want him waking and objecting to the procedure. Pain must be kept at bay. You shall need to give him more tonight, and every day for at least a week. Sleep is healing.”
With a wildly beating heart, Kate held Robert’s arm still as the forceps plunged deeply into the wound. He made no sound but slept deeply. So deeply, she feared for him.
When the ball clattered into the bowl, her worry eased a little, but she feared what the doctor might tell her. “Will my husband…be all right?”
“Infection is our enemy.” The doctor applied a bandage to the shoulder. “We shall have to see. Keep his lordship quiet with the laudanum, and as still as possible. I shall return tomorrow, my lady.”
Three days and long nights passed as Robert grew restless. He tossed and turned, muttering, never fully waking. His brow grew hot. Kate sponged him and continued the medicine, remaining at his side, covering him when he threw off his blankets. Exhausted, she napped on an uncomfortable padded chair. During the lonely daylight hours, she paced the room or hovered at his side, listening to the incoherent words he murmured. Several times, she woke from snatching a few hours’ sleep, believing he’d called her name, but when she went to him he said nothing more.
As night fell on the fourth day, she stood at the window and watched the sunset turn the sea aflame. Sometimes one doesn’t get a second chance to put things right. The possibility made her stiffen with fear and grow annoyed with herself.
On the fifth day, as she dozed beside Robert’s bed in the sunny warmth from the open window, a knock on the door brought her to her feet.
James entered. “The Parish constable, John Hawkshorne, is downstairs and wishes a word, my lady.”
Kate hurried down the stairs, wondering what news he brought. The solidly built man sporting a wiry brown beard waited with his hat in his hands. He bent his head low in a semblance of a bow. “Milady.”
“You have news for me, Mr. Hawkshorne?”
“Yes, milady. The scoundrel who shot ’is lordship was apprehended.”
“That is good news indeed. It was good of you to come and tell me. May I offer you a libation?”
“No, thank you, milady.”
“Please sit and tell me what happened.”
Mr. Hawkshorne eyed a gilt chair but shook his head. “’ow is his lordship? Is he getting better?”
“We are hopeful, Mr. Hawkshorne.”
“That is good news. Well, I just wanted to tell ye we got the mongrel, pardon the language, milady. I’ll be going along now.”
She walked with him to the door. “The man has been imprisoned?”
His eyes widened. “No, my lady. It’s dead, ’e is. We shot ’em when ’e tried to make a run for it.”
“Oh. Well, thank you for coming to tell me.”
He gave a broad smile, displaying tobacco-stained teeth. “Glad we got ’em, my lady. Any relation of the old marquess is respected ’ereabouts.”
Kate returned to Robert’s chamber, a little dismayed to find she wasn’t above relishing the fact that justice had been served. And the man would never attack another unfortunate traveler.
That afternoon, the doctor shook his head looking grim. “I think it wise to bleed him.”
“Surely he’s lost too much blood already!”
Doctor Innes’ eyebrows rose, and he stroked his large nose with a finger. “If you’re so against it, we might leave it awhile. The bullet doesn’t appear to have damaged any vital part. We can only hope the infection doesn’t kill him.”
Kate crossed her arms. “We must make sure it doesn’t.”
He sniffed, taking umbrage at her criticism. “There’s nothing more I can do. It’s up to his lordship now. Let’s hope he wants to live.”
The surgeon’s callous response infuriated her. As Kate had been uneasy about the high dosage of laudanum, she sought the village doctor’s opinion.
“I dislike accusing a colleague of error, your ladyship,”
Doctor Keith said.
Kate frowned. No doubt he feared trouble from a London surgeon and did not wish to be held accountable for a marquess’ life. “Any opinion you offer will remain with me, Doctor Keith.”
“I would lessen the dosage. It seems to me Lord St. Marlin should be coming around. Does no good that I can see to keep him so heavily sedated.”
“And what is your opinion about bleeding him?”
“If he were my case, I wouldn’t. Not at this stage. But I can’t attend him, my lady. Much as I’d like to.”
Kate dismissed the surgeon and took to caring for Robert herself. Because of Doctor Keith’s advice, she reduced the dosage and would stop it altogether over the next few days. Robert began to drink more of the nourishing broth she’d requested. Kate sent James to the village herbalist for calendula cream, which had healing properties, and white willow bark to help with pain, for it would increase once she stopped the laudanum.
She regularly bathed Robert’s face and hands with lavender water, changed his bandage herself but saw no sign that the infection had worsened. But his forehead remained hot and dry, and his restlessness increased.
During the next night, he began to sweat. She sponged him with cool water and had James change his nightshirt several times. It became difficult to soothe Robert and keep him still. At his every toss, her heart stopped, afraid he would reopen his wound.
By the end of the eighth day, he calmed. He managed a little bread with the broth, then slept deeply again.
On the ninth day, his brow was cool. Her moment of exhilaration quickly passed. Was it a sign he was getting better? Or worse? She still watched him, her eyes gritty with tiredness.
On the tenth day, Kate woke as dawn painted the sea gold. She rose quickly from her makeshift bed on the chair and stretched her aching back.
Robert’s pulse was steady and strong. As she held him, his fingers curled around hers, making her gasp. Her gaze flew to his face. “You’re awake!”
“How long have I been here?”
“Several days.” Relief made her hand tremble as she felt his brow. Pleasantly warm. Thank heaven. “Normal.” She gave a long shuddering sigh, smiling into the face she loved. Not the Robert of old quite yet with a dark beard and bloodshot blue eyes. But then, nor was she entirely herself. In fact, she must look a fright. She put a hand up to order her hair, then stopped. Rebecca was needed.
“You look perfectly lovely, if a little tired,” he said gruffly and reached for her hand. His brow creased. “My fault, I fear.” He gave her hand a shake. “You’ve been going without sleep.”
“I’ve managed a little.”
“When did you sleep in your bed last?”
“I preferred to be here in case you needed me.” Her lips trembled and tears blurred her vision. She hadn’t cried since that first day they’d brought him here. She’d been too intensely devoted to making him well. And she’d been afraid to, for crying seemed so final, as if it would seal his fate.
His lip curved in a smile. “You can climb in here with me. Far more comfortable than the chair.”
She sniffed, wiped her eyes, and laughed, withdrawing her hand to straighten his bedcover. “You must be hungry. I’ll ring for food.”
“In a minute. I want to talk to you.”
“Let me get you brandy first.”
Kate rose and poured a little brandy from the decanter into a glass adding water. She returned and slipped an arm around his shoulders to help him drink it.
He drank half a glass and sank back down again gratefully. “I need to talk to you.”
She leaned forward, her eyes taking in every loved feature, his teeth white beneath cracked, dry lips, his angular jaw badly in need of a razor, his dark hair in a tangle on the pillow. “We can talk later. You must eat.” She stood to pull the bell sash.
“No. Do as I say, Kate.” He grunted. “Sit down. I have something to say.” A muscle tightened in his jaw.
Her heart beating fast, she obeyed him, sitting back down, afraid of what he might say. To delay, she smoothed his sheets. “I must get these changed, now we can move you.”
He sighed. “Will you allow me to speak, Kate?”
Kate swallowed. “I can tidy you and make you more comfortable, while I listen, can I not?” It would be better if she could hide her face from him. He need not know how much she cared.
Robert sank back on the pillows, a wry smile hovering on his lips. “You seem intent on fussing about, so please continue.”
“I’ll send for more hot water.”
When the servant came to her summons, she requested the hot water and a tray of food. “Tell Cook something light. She’ll know what’s best.”
Kate picked up his hair brush from the dresser and returned to the bed. She began to brush his hair, smoothing it away from his brow.
He closed his eyes. “Mm, that feels good.”
“Your hair is as black as a raven’s wing,” she said to distract him.
He grabbed her hand and kissed her wrist. “I like your lovely golden hair hanging over your shoulders. Naked shoulders…”
Kate’s pulse raced and hope filled her heart, but she hid her delight and shook her head. “My hair is brown. And I don’t intend to encourage this conversation. It’s not good for you.”
“Kate, I drove you away. I should be put in stocks in the village square…”
“Hush, Robert. I believe you are still feverish.”
“I mean it. I am ashamed of how I’ve treated you.”
“I’ve made mistakes, too,” Kate said, her spirits beginning to soar.
“You will be proud of me when I tell you that I have put things to rights with my mother.”
“Have you? I am so pleased. And I am proud of you, Robert. I always have been.” There was a knock at the door, and James brought in the bowl of water and a fresh towel.
Dipping a cloth in the lavender-scented, warm water, she proceeded to wash Robert’s face, gently dampening his dry lips. He lay meek and uncomplaining under her ministrations. She continued to wash his throat down to the vee in his nightshirt, skirting the bandage at his shoulder. Her hand lingered on his chest, smoothing the dark hairs there before she dried it.
“That feels nice.” He gave the glimmer of a smile. “Have I been sleeping through this procedure?”
“You have.”
“The deuce!” He grinned. “Well, I’m awake now.”
“Please stay still. We don’t want to reopen your wound,” she said mildly, while fighting to keep her composure.
She eased away his nightshirt and began to wash his chest and the ribs of hard muscle over his stomach. She had not seen his naked body clearly in daylight and caught her breath at how athletic and strong he was. She briskly washed him and patted him dry while he watched her with a lazy smile.
Kate pulled down his nightshirt and arranged the covers. Easing back a loose lock of hair from her forehead with her forearm she sat back. “You’ll do for now.”
A gleam brightened his eyes. “You promise to be more thorough tomorrow?”
It warmed her heart that hurt as he was, he wanted things to be right between them. “I promise. Now, if I add more pillows, can you sit up? You must eat.”
She arranged the pillows at his back as he eased himself up with a grimace. “Kate, I came to Cornwall to tell you I was sorry. Sorry for everything.”
She caught her breath. “So am I. So very sorry, Robert.”
He shook his head, those vivid blue eyes gazing earnestly into hers. “You have nothing to apologize for. I’ve treated you badly, and I can say little in my defense. Before I embarked on this trip, I visited my mother, made my peace with her.” His voice rasped with emotion. “Your wise words, sweetheart, made me realize I had to face the fact that I wasn’t dealing with the past. It was quite amazing how light-hearted I felt when I came away from Portman Square.”
“Oh, I wish I’d been there,” she said, thrilled. “I do so like them, especially, C
lare and Frederick.”
“Yes, I agree. Except Charlesworth. Puffed-up boor.”
She laughed and shook her finger at him. “He is a little standoffish, I grant you, but not so very bad. Perhaps when you get to know him. Shall we invite them down for a visit?”
“I suppose we could,” he said reluctantly. “Charlesworth does appear to care for my mother. I’ll give him that.” He yawned. “We could have a house party once I’m well enough. Invite our friends. A shoot and a ball, perhaps.”
“When you’re well.” Kate would love a ball held in the grand hall. But she wasn’t going to count on it just yet. It may not suit Robert to stay here.
James brought in the tray of food.
“I’ll cut it up for you,” Kate said.
She fed Robert spoonfuls of buttered egg. He ate little before resting his head back on the pillow. “Thank you, sweetheart, my appetite isn’t quite up to scratch. Think I’ll sleep a while.”
“Good.” She placed the tray on a table, then removed the extra pillows from behind his back and smoothed his blankets. “Sleep, my love.”
“You will rest, too, won’t you, Kate? Promise?”
“I promise, Robert.”
“And not on that chair, either. I’m much better. Go to your bed.” His eyelids closed, and in a moment, he had slipped into a sound sleep.
She stood for a moment watching him, then went to draw the curtains. He hadn’t said he loved her. But she’d read it in his eyes and it was enough for now. He must get better, then their life together would really begin.
Chapter Twenty-Two
The next day, Robert appeared more alert. He’d been shaved and washed that morning and had his bedding and nightshirt changed. Just before luncheon, at his request, she came to sit beside him on the bed. He reached up and ran a finger softly down her cheek. His eyes took on that sleepy, intense look, which always sent her pulse racing.
“You’re less tired today, Kate. You slept?”
“I did.” She smiled. “How are you, Robert? Do you need some willow bark for the pain?”
“A kiss would be more effective than willow bark.”
The Marquess Meets His Match Page 20
