by Ava Stone
Where were his friends? They had to be about. It was raining outside. Had they forgotten he was here?
He grumbled and pushed back into the pillows. Where was Brighid? A maid had delivered tea earlier. Had she returned to her grandmother’s cottage? What had she meant by she earlier? Certainly she hadn’t meant Miss Alcott. The young woman could only help him as far as giving him Dover’s Powder.
He jerked at the knock at his door. “Come,” he grumbled. It was probably another maid with a lukewarm cup of tea. Where the blazes had Brighid gone off too? Didn’t she know he needed her?
The door slowly opened and Brighid poked her head around the door. “Are you alone?”
“Yes.” Blake brightened. She hadn’t abandoned him, but why did she always expect someone to be with him?
She pushed the door further open and entered. In her hand she held a cup and saucer and he assumed it was more of the tea. Much to his disappointment, Dr. Alcott followed her into the room. The man could go hang. He had better not think of trying to bleed him again.
Dr. Alcott paused by the bed, felt Blake’s brow and then pushed against his cheeks with this thumbs again. “It seems Miss Glace was correct.” Dr. Alcott smiled. “Your condition is improving.”
Blake didn’t feel like he had improved that much, but if it kept the doctor from going for a blade, who was he to argue the point?
Brighid hitched a brow as if to say I told you so, and stepped around the doctor.
Blake pulled himself to a seated position and tried not to grimace. It was best not to let on how much pain he was in just in case Dr. Alcott changed his mind. Brighid set the cup on the bedside table before stacking the pillows behind him so that he could relax against them and then handed him the tea. It wasn’t the best brew he had drunk, but it seemed to be doing the trick in getting him through this latest episode.
They left him and walked to the opposite side of the room.
“I really should not dismiss the medicinal powers of your herbs, Miss Glace,” Alcott said with a smile.
Blake narrowed his eyes. Did Brighid just blush? She never blushed, at least not around him.
And why weren’t they standing where he could participate in their conversation. It was rather rude of them.
“You are new to the practice,” Brighid reminded he doctor. ”But I would be happy to share with you any knowledge I possess.”
Blake grunted. He was just as certain Dr. Alcott wished her to share more than what she knew about her bloody plants.
Brighid turned toward him. “Is something wrong?”
“No,” Blake grumbled and went back to drinking his tea.
“In truth, I wish to travel to London and work under a more educated doctor.” Alcott leaned closer to Brighid. “My father was only able to teach me so much, and actual practice was limited at the university.” He straightened. “What I need is to gain experience under someone who is more qualified.”
If Alcott were in London, he wouldn’t be with Brighid. “I could help,” Blake announced.
They both turned toward him.
“I can arrange for you to work under my London physician. I am sure he would be happy to have you.”
Dr. Alcott brightened and hurried toward Blake’s bedside. “Do you really think so?”
“Of course,” he answered, though Blake really had no idea. But he would see that it was done. He would pay the physician, if he had to, to take Alcott on. “I’ll write to him as soon as I am well.”
Brighid strolled to the side of the bed and studied Blake with suspicion. “That is very kind of you.”
Or perhaps his guilty conscience saw it as suspicion.
“Thank you, but please don’t say anything,” Dr. Alcott insisted. “At least not until we know if he will have me. I would hate to needlessly upset my sister, of course.”
“Of course,” Brighid agreed.
“Well, then,” Dr. Alcott picked up his bag. “It appears Miss Glace has everything well in hand and I will leave you to her care.” He started for the door and stopped. “I almost forgot.” He opened his bag and withdrew a jar of something which he handed to Brighid. “I saw the note you left for my sister and since I was coming here….”
The man practically stammered. Did he have a tendre for Brighid? Well, that would soon end. At least it would once he was off to London.
Brighid beamed. “Thank you so much. We are out and I have been craving Daphne’s rum butter.”
He should have known it was the rum butter. His aunt and uncle constantly had some available.
“It is my pleasure.” Dr. Alcott nodded and quit the room.
Alcott was gone and Brighid remained. Blake’s day just got brighter.
“If that will be all,” Brighid took the empty cup from him. “I’ll return this to the kitchens.”
“Wait.” He didn’t wish to be alone. He was bored and truth be told, this room rather disturbed him.
She hitched a brow. “Yes?”
“I would like some company.”
Her back straightened and Blake could swear he heard her snort. “I am sure there is someone else who would be more than happy to keep you entertained.” With that she lifted her chin, turned and exited the room, shutting the door firmly behind her.
“Witch,” Blake grumbled and pulled the blanket up to his chin before closing his eyes.
He must have slept because when he woke again, it was dark and the young woman from before was beside his bed. There was something angelic about her. “Who are you?”
She smiled and love shown in her green eyes. She brought a finger to her lips as if to shush him before settling at the side of the bed. She must be very slight because the mattress didn’t even dip. Her cool fingers smoothed his brow before feathering through his hair.
“So did you learn more about your blonde?” Wolf asked as Braden stepped into the great room that evening.
Braden didn’t even try to hide his smile from his friend. “Would you think I was mad if I told you I’m going to marry that girl?”
“Marry her?” Wolf’s eyes rounded in surprise. “Didn’t you just meet her?”
Yes, but… “In so many ways I feel as though I’ve always known her.” Braden started towards a sideboard of decanters in the far corner. “Whisky?” he asked, retrieving a pair of crystal glasses from the cabinet.
“To toast your impending nuptials?” Wolf leaned back in one of the high-back chairs near the stone hearth.
“Impending?” Braden shook his head. “I haven’t even asked her brother if I can court her yet.”
“But you’re sure you’re going to marry her?” Wolf frowned in Braden’s general direction.
“Never been more sure of anything in my life.” He poured a healthy amount of whisky into the two glasses. Then he strode across the room and handed one to his friend.
An expression Braden couldn’t quite read settled upon Wolf’s face. “You’re not concerned about things moving so quickly?”
Braden shook his head once more as he settled into a chair opposite his friend. “I think once you meet the right woman, you just…know. At least that’s how my father once explained it to me.” Unfortunately, his father was already married to Braden’s mother by the time he met his true love. And though Braden had never particularly cared for his step-mother, she’d always had the power to brighten his father’s mood, to soothe him like no one else could.
Braden had always known true love existed. He’d seen it with his own eyes, the way his father had transformed after he married a second time. And that knowledge had made Braden bound and determined to never marry until he met the lady who was his one and only. He owed it to himself, to her, and to any children who would eventually come his way. And he was more than determined to learn from his father’s past mistakes.
“And you…just know?” Wolf asked, seeming quite curious about Braden’s answer. “You’re certain?”
As strange as it was to believe, Braden nodded. “I am.
Honestly, Wolf, I think I knew it this morning when I first spotted her in the gardens out there. I don’t know how to explain it. I just knew.”
“And it’s love, not lust?” his friend asked, cradling his whisky in his hands.
A laugh escaped Braden. “There’s a fair amount of lust too,” he admitted. There was no reason to hide the fact. He was a red-blooded man and Callie Eilbeck was bloody gorgeous, like a vision sent from heaven. Touching his knee to hers on the settee at the vicarage had been the highlight of his day. “But it’s more than that.”
His friend lifted his glass high. “In that case, let me offer my congratulations.”
Braden lifted his own glass as well. “How about wishing me good luck instead? Her brother doesn’t seem to be the easiest fellow to deal with.”
“Good luck, then,” Wolf said before taking a swallow of his drink.
Thankfully, the sun was bright and warm the next morning, as if the rain had never happened the day before. Alastair stared out of his window onto the Marisdùn gardens. They were something of a masterpiece, especially to see them from above. The hedges were trimmed to perfection, and the flowers were almost shocking to the eye with their bright pinks and purples and yellows. Of course, they wouldn’t have much time left, what with winter coming soon.
He had just noticed that woman in the blue dress he’d seen the other day when a knock came at his door. He ignored the odd feeling that washed over him and bid whomever it was to enter. Sidney walked over the threshold a moment later.
“Ah, good morning, Sid!” he greeted. “I trust you’re feeling better by now?” After a night of revelry and imbibing to excess, his friend had barely gotten out of bed the day before.
Sidney snorted. “A day abed did the trick.”
“I knew you’d sleep away your time here,” Alastair replied. “This is lovely country, you know? I’m glad to see you’re up and about at a decent hour today so you might enjoy it.”
Sidney collapsed into the high-back velvet chair near the hearth and swung his leg over the arm. How Alastair considered this devil-may-care rounder one of his best friends was a mystery. But the truth was that despite their vast differences, Sidney had always been there for him. Most notably when Alastair’s father had died, leaving him an orphaned viscount at the ripe age of eleven. Navigating those foreign waters would have been near impossible without Sidney’s support and good humor.
“Speaking of enjoying the countryside,” Sidney said, banging his leg lackadaisically against the side of the chair. “Care to take a ride?”
Alastair did care to take a ride, as a matter of fact, but not with Sidney. Miss Alcott was coming by to meet Jupiter today—at least he hoped she was. Visions of her riding sidesaddle in front of him, her dark hair blowing and bouncing with the motion of the horse, his arms wrapped about her voluptuous waist to hold her steady, filled his head and sparked desire within him. He turned toward the window again, under the pretense of wanting to look onto the gardens, but really to hide his growing manhood.
“I’m afraid I’ll have to pass, my friend,” he said, watching the woman in blue wander aimlessly through the garden. It only just started to occur to him how odd it was, this strange woman wandering about the garden. Was she a servant? If so, shouldn’t she be working? Or if she was a neighbor, who gave her permission to trespass?
“I didn’t realize you had plans,” Sidney said, breaking into Alastair’s thoughts.
“Well, I do,” he said, and then added, “At least, I think I do.” He thought Miss Alcott held him in high esteem, as he did her, but there was no guarantee she would show up today. Perhaps she’d spent the entire night tossing and turning, only to realize she didn’t like him at all. Or maybe her brother would forbid her to come.
“You think you do?”
Damn. He should have kept his mouth shut. He turned from the window, his ardor back under control, and leaned his back against the cool pane. “If you must know, I’ve become rather smitten with a young lady here in town.”
Sidney’s face lit up with all the mischief and joy of a thirteen year old boy when he’s caught his first glimpse of a lady’s breast. “You old dog!” he drawled with all the insolence of that thirteen-year-old boy. “Who would have thought the puritanical Lord Wolverly would fall in love at first sight.”
“I have no idea what being puritanical has to do with falling in love. I’m certain the Puritans would take offense.”
Sidney threw his head back and barked with laughter. “You must introduce me,” he insisted.
“Not on your life.” Alastair wouldn’t put it past his friend to seduce Miss Alcott himself.
“Oh, come now!” he said, laughing all the while. Clearly, he was enjoying trying to get under Alastair’s skin—he always did. “I promise I’ll be on my best behavior.”
Alastair pushed off the windowsill and made his way across the room to where his friend sat. “No,” he said as he took Sidney by the elbow, helping him out of the chair. “Now, I’ll kindly thank you to leave my chambers.”
“You can’t keep her hidden from me forever!” he shouted as Alastair shoved him out the door and slammed it promptly behind him.
He could hear Sidney guffawing through the thick mahogany. Alastair shook his head. Sid always made light of what Alastair found important, and while it irked him to no end, it was also what endeared his friend to him.
After carefully dressing himself and perfecting his cravat, Alastair went down to breakfast, and mid-way through his plate of eggs and toast, the butler came in to announce a visitor.
“Lord Wolverly,” he said with a curt bow. “Miss Alcott to see you.”
Damn, but those two little words—Miss Alcott—set his heart to racing as if he’d just run the length of Rotten Row at top speed.
“Shall I put her in the drawing room?” he ventured when Alastair didn’t answer.
“Thank you, Bendle,” he said, abandoning his half-eaten breakfast. “She’s here to meet Jupiter, actually, so I’ll come with you and greet her in the foyer.”
“Very well, sir.”
Bendle led the way down the corridor toward the front door. Standing there in the foyer was Miss Alcott, a vision in blue again. There was nothing fancy about her dress, nothing remarkable about how she wore her hair in a low chignon beneath her bonnet, but there was something extraordinary about her. She needed no fripperies or frills to accentuate what a stunning beauty she was. So simple, so gentle, so open.
She turned to him at the sound of his footsteps clicking on the marble floors. A smile broke out on her lips, pushing those sweet round cheeks so high that the skin around her eyes crinkled in the most adorable way.
“Lord Wolverly!” she said, dipping into a curtsey. “I do hope I’m not too early.”
He delivered a quick bow in greeting. “Not at all, Miss Alcott,” he assured her. “I was just finishing my breakfast.” He accepted his overcoat from Bendle and then offered his arm to her. “Are you ready to meet Jupiter?”
The sweet girl gave an eager nod and slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow. Alastair led her back outside and down the stairs to the drive, and then they made their way the short walk to the stables.
“Did you sleep well?” he asked as they sauntered along the path.
“As well as one can when one lives across from the only pub in town,” she replied. “And you?”
“Better than the night before.” He gave her a sidelong glance. “I guess the ghosts decided to let me rest finally.”
Miss Alcott laughed, sending joyful reverberations through Alastair’s body. How was it she made him feel so light and happy?
“I thought you didn’t believe in ghosts,” she teased, her lips turned up in a mischievous smile.
“I don’t,” he replied, sending her a little wink as they arrived at the stables. “Here we are.”
Miss Alcott tipped her face up to look at the rustic building before them. “Yes, we are.”
Heavens!
Callie bustled from parlor to parlor at Braewood, wondering which – the green or the yellow – would be more suitable to host Braden. The green was a bit brighter, with its large windows that faced south; but the yellow had the new brocade settee and had a more elegant feel to it. He’d seemed so very elegant. Handsome, refined, noble, so unlike any man she’d ever met before. The mere thought of him made her heart beat a little faster.
But Braewood has you, Miss Eilbeck. Everything in Marisdùn’s gardens pale next to you.
Callie sighed at the memory of the words he’d said to her in the garden yesterday. At the time, she’d been in serious danger of floating right up to the clouds.
And then…That particular girl is my favorite thing in all of Ravenglass.
And he was most definitely her favorite thing in town. In fact, she was fairly certain he was her most favorite thing in all the world. But she’d only just met him. Did falling in love truly take so little time?
She walked back into the yellow parlor, studying it once more with a more critical eye than she ever had before. If only it was a bit warmer. She crossed back towards the green parlor when Cyrus called from his study at the end of the corridor, “Stop fretting.”
Easy for him to say. Braden wasn’t coming to Braewood to have tea with Cyrus. Of course, if Lila was coming to Braewood, her brother would fall all over himself trying to make certain everything was perfectly in its place.
Callie stopped in the middle of the corridor. Heavens! She wasn’t just as bad as Cyrus, was she? “Just be glad I promised not to tell Lila what you said about her yesterday,” she called to her brother. Her friend would die on the spot if she knew Cyrus had told Braden and Lord Quentin that Lila was his intended.
Her brother had nothing to say to that which was perfectly fine with Callie. She stepped into the green parlor. If only it was a bit more elegant. Something closer to what his home in Buckinghamshire must be like. Highfield, he’d said, and she’d wondered about the place ever since he mentioned it. But he was here now. At Marisdùn.
