“What is driving you from your bed early in the morning and careening across the countryside?” Phillip met Marcus’s eyes and held the gaze before Marcus broke away to focus on the fireplace.
“Miss Storm. I’ve visited with her a few times, and she is coping as well as she can with her injuries.”
“You are attracted to her,” Michael whispered.
Marcus leaned forward, hands clasped and elbows resting on his knees. “She has to be the most remarkable lady of my acquaintance.”
Silence followed.
“What do you really know of her, Remy?” Phillip asked, his voice kind.
Marcus shrugged. “Not much more than many men do before they take a bride amongst the ton. She’s lovely, considerate, and refreshingly honest.”
“And she is blind and paralyzed,” Theo added. “Those are definitely not ‘selling’ points for a potential wife, are they?”
“I didn’t say I wanted to marry her. How could I? But the very fact her disability would stop me makes me question my own depth of character.”
“How so?” Phillip now stood and came around behind a chair across from Marcus. “You are responsible, fulfill your duties, and help your friends. Your estate flourishes, and you are respected amongst political allies and detractors. What kind of defect of character might you possibly possess, Remy? You are perfect. Is it wrong to seek a wife who would complement that?”
Marcus frowned. “Isn’t it selfish and vain to want a wife as an ornament and someone who would enhance my life? What about her needs?”
“She would gain security, faithfulness, and a title. A man others respect and admire. You are not bad to gaze upon, from what the ladies say. Almost any woman would gladly trade her unmarried status for any or all of those things.” Michael grinned.
The heat crept up Marcus’s face, and he shook his head. “Marriage should be more than a business arrangement.”
Phillip chuckled as he spoke. “Very few marriages can stand up to the standards your parents set. Is that what you seek? Love? Affection? Devotion? If so, you were born into the wrong social class. Give it up and pursue a sweet young thing who will not shame you and give you the heirs you need.”
Marcus shook his head. “I will not marry solely to get an heir. I do have Jared.”
“Unless your brother doesn’t make it back from the war.” Theo tapped his cheek with his forefinger. “Remy, I don’t understand much about this God of yours, but what if He brought Miss Storm here? Why would He tempt you with a woman who cannot possibly fulfill the duties of Viscountess?”
Marcus shrugged. “I don’t know the answer to any of those questions. God has permitted this to happen. Why? I don’t know. Maybe I was complacent and too self-absorbed to realize I’ve been more concerned about perfecting my reputation than honoring Him in my heart.”
“I think you are too hard on yourself, Remy,” Michael chided.
“Most certainly not.” Marcus was not hard enough. They did not know how these things tortured him. He loved his friends in spite of their lack of appreciation for their faith. They tolerated his devotion to God even though they failed to understand it.
Michael stretched his legs and gazed at his polished boots. “Perhaps Miss Storm is exactly the wife you need and you just don’t realize it.”
“Her circumstances present a difficult starting point for any kind of courtship.” Marcus frowned.
“If you had married her before the accident and this had happened, would you have abandoned her?” Michael’s voice was soft.
“Most certainly not.” Marcus growled, and Michael’s eyes grew wide.
Phillip walked around and put a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “What can we do to help?”
“Pray.”
“I think you may have lost us with that request, Remy. I sincerely doubt God’s interested in anything I might say.” Phillip removed his hand.
“I disagree, Philip. I believe God is very interested in anything you would wish to share with Him.” Marcus bowed his head.
“Remy?” Michael asked. “You run a risk by visiting Miss Storm. You don’t want to be forced into matrimony because you were caught in her room.”
Phillip’s eyebrows shot up. “Remy? Do you think visiting Miss Storm is appropriate?”
Marcus leaned back and sighed. “Her maid is always present. I wish Aunt Dorothea would arrive.”
“Amen.” Theo smiled. “Not to mention she is a delightful lady. If she comes, the Widmores can depart, right?”
Marcus laughed. “Couldn’t happen soon enough for me.”
“Maybe one of us should fetch her?” Michael asked.
“She’ll come,” Marcus countered. “Never fear. With the way I worded my letter, she wouldn’t be able to stay away.”
The men chuckled.
“Will we get the pleasure of meeting Miss Storm soon?” Theo asked. “It’s not fair you get to spend time with her and we don’t.”
Phillip piped in. “She will likely be under your roof for quite some time. Maybe we can take turns visiting her and cheering her up?”
“I’m not sure if that’s wise.” Marcus frowned as his eyes shifted and avoided contact. He did not want to share Josie—as if she was...his.
“Will she be able to be brought downstairs at any point?” Theo asked.
Marcus shrugged and shook his head. “I expect she will be permitted to be down here soon. She has to be bored sitting in her room alone. I hope you don’t intend to make a May game out of her, gentlemen. She is a lady of gentle birth, and I would not have her trifled with.”
“Whoa, ho, ho, dear boy.” Theo’s eyes grew wide. “I think we’ve been insulted, men. Do you dare think we would trifle with the affection of a young woman suffering injury and under the protection of your roof? If I didn’t know you were such a good shot, I would challenge you to a duel over that.”
Marcus laughed. “I wouldn’t dare meet you for a duel, Theodore. Who would second either of us?” He shook his head. “I apologize if I offended you. I’ve not been myself, and I regret having been such a poor host. I appreciate you entertaining my guests. Hopefully it won’t be too many more days before we observe the backside of the Widmore women.”
There was a knock on the door to the study, and Michael rose to answer it. Noting that it was Dr. Miller, he motioned him into the room and locked the door again.
“Any news, Bruce?”
The doctor had a seat amongst the circle of friends. They had all been at university together. The doctor glanced around the room and settled on Marcus before he began to speak. “I’m not sure whether to be encouraged or cautious about Miss Storm. She is experiencing pain lower in her back, a feeling that didn’t exist a few days ago. She is beginning to experience some sensation and reflexes in her legs.”
“Are you suggesting she may regain her ability to walk?” Marcus sat up straighter now.
“It’s too soon to tell. As swelling decreases, there is a possibility she may regain use of her legs.”
“Would that hold true as well for her sight?” Phillip asked.
Bruce shrugged his shoulders as he looked at Lord Westcombe. “It’s too early to know. She suffered a bump on the head, but as swelling decreases, it might relieve pressure and give her back her sight. I would hate to raise false hopes. While pleased with these new developments, her spirits are still low.”
“Will it be possible for her sit up for short periods? Perhaps join us for meals or relax in the drawing room so she would not be so isolated?” This time Michael inquired.
Marcus turned his head away. Why was he afraid of his friends being acquainted with this woman?
Bruce spoke. “I will assess that day by day based on how she’s progressing. I don’t want to do anything to jeopardize her recovery.” Bruce rose to leave. “My other patients await. I’ll return tomorrow.”
Marcus walked Dr. Miller to the door. “Thank you.” He unlocked the door, let his friend out, and turned to hi
s friends. “Are we finished?”
Phillip looked to the other two before answering. “Yes, for now.”
Marcus motioned to the door. “Will you all let me return to my estate business? It was why I initially entered this room.”
“Gentlemen, we are dismissed.” Michael rose and gave Marcus a pat on the back as he exited.
Theo and Phillip followed him.
“Remy?” Phillip spoke softly.
“Yes?” His one eyebrow rose. He’d thought the interrogation was over.
“Lock the door behind us. Lady Hetty is not to be trusted.” Phillip winked and departed after his friends.
Marcus smiled as he shut the door and turned the key. He walked to his desk. He was glad his friends were gone, but being alone with his thoughts was not comfortable. Settling in his chair behind the large mahogany desk, he began sorting through the day’s mail. All the while, the image of gray eyes and dark wavy hair taunted him. He groaned, threw the letters down, and leaned back in his chair.
A log fell in the fireplace, jarring him from his stupor.
He picked up the top letter, opened it, and began to read. Anything to get his thoughts off the young miss upstairs.
7
Josie longed to stare out the window, if only to experience the warmth of the sun upon her face. Molly had helped her move her legs in prescribed exercises, and Josie’s lower back and legs hurt more than ever. In spite of that, she was encouraged by the sensations in her legs and feet. The doctor had permitted her to take the laudanum to ease her discomfort if necessary, but she wasn’t ready to cave in. She longed for a visit from Marcus. She thought about him often. She wondered what occupied his day.
Charlie had abandoned her for the nonce, but she figured the little mutt needed her own exercise outside. She was grateful for the warmth and affection she received from the small dog. Homesickness beset Josie, and she wondered what kept her father. Shouldn’t he have come for her by now? She longed to see him, yet another part of her hoped he was delayed. She didn’t want any excuse to leave Rose Hill. At least, not yet. There was someone here she hoped to become better acquainted with.
Josie also wondered about her Aunt Janet and Cousin Hetty. Their behavior on the day of the accident had been unexpectedly rude, and she still smarted from the pain of rejection she had sensed from them before the accident. Maybe having the trip interrupted like this was a blessing in some way. Could a season with them have been worse for her than the pain she now experienced?
Sir Bastian’s pursuit would certainly end, surely a blessing. Being a distant neighbor at home, he had pursued her, and his attentions made her uncomfortable. He was older, and his breath often smelled of rotten fish. Josie shivered at the memory of his proposal of marriage. He had not taken her rejection well. At least her father supported her. Certainly, he would not want a blind or crippled wife. Maybe this accident had saved her from more than one disaster.
Too often, her thoughts turned to her pain and the uncertainty of her future. She would never paint again, ride a horse, or dance at a ball. She wouldn’t enjoy the colors of a floral arrangement or witness the look of adoration in a man’s eyes. Sir Bastian’s gaze had not been one of admiration, but more of calculated lust. She had cringed in the face of his pursuit.
Then there was Lord Remington. A man who prayed. He had listened to her and not caviled at her rant. He had visited her, given her a handkerchief, squeezed her hand, and shared a sunrise. What kind of man was this, whose servants spoke highly of him and yet he flouted convention by coming to her room? Even with her abigail present, it was simply not done. Oh, but she was glad he had not stayed away.
Foolish heart! Don’t you go reading more into this than friendship. A man of his status and vitality would never condescend to love a woman like you. Maybe the dream, though, would be enough to sustain her in the years to come. That there had been a man who cared about her and was not put off by her bruises and disability. Even though he could never marry her, she could dream. Was this a comfort, though? Or would the Viscount be one more memory to eventually tease and torture her in the lonely, long days and nights extending into her future?
Josie wished her eyes worked. She longed to see the face of this lord of the manor who had invaded her thoughts and livened her lonely days. Selfish girl. He was probably busy managing his estate and playing host to her relatives.
Molly had mentioned three other friends who were also visiting and had assisted in her rescue.
They made her curious. What kind of men did Lord Remington call “friend?”
She despised this isolation. She could not read or draw to pass the time and found herself at the mercy of her thoughts. They led her down dangerous paths of despair. There would be no season in London. No marriage, home, or family of her own someday. It was frustrating. She had always been the one to care for everyone else. Was her value and contribution to this world over? Darkness surrounded more than her vision.
The door opened, and her heart leapt.
“’Tis only me, Miss Josephine,” Molly said.
The scamper of little feet preceded Charlie as the fluff ball availed herself of the open door and came back to jump on the bed. Josie gave the dog a squeeze and settled down to snuggle as best she could in spite of her pain. She could only rest and wait for a certain visitor to arrive.
~*~
Marcus had tried hard to focus on the numbers before him. He had sorted through his mail, disappointed at no correspondence from Mr. Storm or his aunt. He fought the urge to go check on Josie. The image of her gray eyes and wavy brown hair constantly seemed to blot out the figures on the ledger he tried to balance. In frustration, he rose, changed his clothes, and headed out for another ride on Cloud.
He had no real plan for where he would travel. He galloped for miles. Only upon entering the shade of the woods did he slow. Cloud was foaming and showed signs of fatigue from the hard ride. He brought her to a canter and headed toward the river weaving through the woods.
That was his last thought before an unseen branch caused him to take a hasty dismount from his horse and an unplanned nap.
~*~
Pain as well as boredom became more intense for Josie. The pounding of horse’s hooves had broken the stifling silence of the late afternoon. She grew despondent when Molly insisted on closing the windows as the temperature cooled.
Molly mentioned a fog rolling in.
Josie wondered about the horse and rider out in the fog and encroaching darkness. While she was accustomed to the dark now, she recognized how deadly it could be on horseback. She had nothing else to think about and even fretted at the lack of returning hoof beats. Josie struggled through her meal. She had no appetite, and her pain increased. “I’m sorry, Molly, I cannot eat.”
“I will remove the tray, Miss Josephine.” Molly took the tray and left the room.
Josie struggled to settle under the covers. She felt abandoned when Marcus had not returned to visit her. Her heart ached as well as her body as she struggled to find a comfortable position.
Molly soon returned.
“I think I would like to try the medicine tonight.”
“You would? You must be in terrible pain. Let me get it for you.” Molly dosed out the medication.
Josie shivered at the bitter taste. Soon, drowsiness overtook Josie as the opiate began to work. Perhaps she’d find refuge in sleep.
~*~
Marcus pried open his eyes and, at first, wondered where he was. His head throbbed. He sat up, and the world spun. Cloud stood nearby, munching on grass. Shadows overtook the dense forest. Marcus whistled for his horse, who came near enough to nuzzle her master. Marcus rose and tested out his limbs. He came through his mishap with nothing more than a knot on his head and a few scratches and bruises.
Standing, he held on to the saddle until the world stopped swirling. Finally, he mounted his horse, swallowed, and closed his eyes as the world wobbled once again. “Well, Cloud, shall we return home befo
re we are missed?”
They retraced his path out of the woods.
Marcus kept his head low to avoid any other branches that might have dastardly designs on him.
As they emerged from the tree line, fog enveloped them. He sighed. To save his horse injury and to minimize the throbbing in his head, he could not travel as fast as he had previously. Clucking to Cloud, he struggled to sit up straight, and with a slight squeeze of his knees, they moved into the misty evening air.
His thoughts once again were of Josie. Hadn’t he come on this ride to escape this obsession with her? Marcus experienced a tinge of guilt for avoiding her all day. The sight of her in bed snuggling Charlie this morning had stirred something deep inside him. He had wished he were his dog. He shook his head and regretted the action as the world tilted and slowly righted itself.
Why did she fascinate him? True, he had longed for a woman to call his own, to share his name and his home. Might Josie be the answer to his prayers? He laughed aloud as he looked to the heavens where the moon eerily shown through the fog. “You definitely possess a sense of humor, God. Please help me understand what to do. I can’t seem to stop thinking about her.”
He spent the next half hour covering the ground slowly and gingerly with Cloud. He shivered and fought back nausea caused by the pounding in his skull. Off in the distance, he squinted and hoped he was not imagining things. Maybe he had more of a head injury than he thought.
Slowly, the ghostly images became clearer. His friends shouted his name.
When they were close enough, he returned the call.
“Well met, gentlemen. Are you out for an evening ride, or are you searching for someone?” He hoped the hint of humor in his voice served to let his friends know he fared well.
The Virtuous Viscount Page 6
