Capturing the Heart of a Cameron (Farthingale Series Novellas)

by Meara Platt

  He ought to have said the bed. Not my bed. But the thought of Frances in his bed for the next nine days had his heart on a rampage again.

  He wanted her there.

  Stretched out beside him and wrapped in his arms.

  CHAPTER 11

  FRANCES FELT QUITE decadent while luxuriating in the small but comfortable room next to Robbie’s office. He’d stayed with her the entire nine days, sitting up in one of the big, leather chairs in his office or stretching out on the cot to sleep, more attentive to her than any servant on the Cameron staff had ever been, which was saying a lot for they were a good and loyal staff.

  If not for the boiled rice, salt, and liquids he was constantly coaxing down her throat, she would have been content to remain here forever.

  Mrs. Pringle assisted her each morning while Robbie returned to his townhouse to change his clothes and grab an hour of decent sleep, but he was never away from her for more than a few hours at a time, and she knew that she was going to miss him terribly when the dare came to an end. After next week, she’d see him rarely, only catching glimpses of him at whichever MacConnell clan functions he deigned to attend.

  One week left! Despite enduring menial tasks and a near encounter with a fatal disease, Frances felt her heart breaking. These three weeks had been more enriching than anything she’d ever experienced and Robbie had everything to do with it.

  When the dare ended, she’d have to deal with another problem. She’d fallen in love with Robbie. She couldn’t let anyone know, certainly not Robbie, but to marry his cousin now that her traitorous heart had surrendered to another was out of the question. She’d have to end it with Charles and she wasn’t quite certain how to manage it without causing further outrage. Her decision would hurt and embarrass Charles as well as her own family.

  Her thoughts were interrupted by a sharp knock at her door. She recognized Mrs. Pringle’s efficient rat-a-tat. “Come in.”

  “How are ye, lass?” the kindly older woman asked, entering the small chamber and immediately fussing as usual like a squirrel hunting for nuts before the onset of winter.

  “Very well, thank you,” she said with a smile, eager to wash and dress for this new day. “Am I to be sprung from my dungeon this morning?”

  “I believe so. His Grace will be back shortly to give you the official word. Come, lass. Let me help ye get ready.” She’d brought up water and fragrant oils for her daily sponge bath.

  “What fragrance do we have today?” She inhaled deeply and then let her breath out slowly. “Oh, how lovely! A delicate lemon scent to remind me of spring.”

  While Mrs. Pringle continued to fuss, Frances quickly bathed herself and washed her hair before donning another of her plainest woolen gowns, albeit a soft merino wool the color of russet that brought out the auburn highlights in her hair, or would as soon as her hair dried.

  Vi, the loveable harridan, had thoughtfully provided a change of clothes for her every day along with scented soaps and fragrant oils, so that Frances felt as though she were residing in a sultan’s harem instead of quarantined in a small chamber in a doctor’s clinic.

  Now ready to embrace the day, she stepped into Robbie’s office to await his return. She drew a stool close to the hearth, and with hairbrush in hand, began to brush her hair before the fire that Robbie must have started before leaving for his townhouse. It was a solid blaze that warmed the room and would quickly dry her hair.

  She was still brushing it out when Robbie returned. “You’re awake,” he remarked, casting her a tender smile. “I’ve been meaning to thank you for organizing those hospital reports. You saved me days of work. Probably weeks of it, for I don’t have the patience for that drivel.”

  “It was the least I could do. I rather enjoyed it.” She set her brush aside and quickly tucked the long strands behind her ears. Her pins were still in the bedchamber and she hadn’t thought to bring them out. “I suppose there’s no danger of my infecting those reports.”

  He arched an eyebrow. “Oh, there was, but it was a help to me either way.”

  She tipped her head in confusion.

  “If you remained free of disease, which you did, thank goodness,” he said, obviously struggling with the enormous blame he’d placed on himself, “then the work was done and ready to deliver to the trustees.”

  “And if I had succumbed to cholera…” Her eyes widened in understanding and she gasped mirthfully. “Then those papers would have been tossed into the fire and burned along with everything else I’d infected with my touch. You’d have no reports to give them and an excellent excuse for eliminating all trace of them. You wicked man! What a brilliantly nefarious scheme!”

  He chuckled along with her, then his expression turned sober and he ran a hand roughly through his hair. “Frances, you know I would have given up my own life to keep you safe from harm. I should have gone down myself to—”

  “Robbie, there’s risk in everything we do in life. I knew what I was getting myself into with this dare and went into it with my eyes wide open. Nine days have passed since this incident and nothing bad has happened to me. Am I past the danger?”

  He nodded.

  She smiled. “Then we’ve both won out. I’m well rested and have been treated like a princess these past few days and you have your dreaded reports done.”

  He shook his head and laughed. “Feel free to organize those bloody things whenever the impulse strikes you. You’re welcome anytime. I’ll not deprive you of the pleasure.”

  “Are you suggesting that you’d allow me back here once this dare is over?” She held her breath, waiting and hoping he would nod his head.

  It took him a long moment, but he finally did.

  “Thank you, Robbie,” she said, feeling quite overwhelmed by the possibility of seeing him again and spending time with him because her heart would break if she couldn’t be close to him. That he wanted her, even if it was only to help him with his work, made her deliriously happy. “You realize that you can put an end to this dare and declare yourself the winner. I’ve failed. I’ve been up here mostly sleeping or reading Vi’s shockingly lurid novels while you’ve been seeing patients all day and tending to me at night. How do you manage it and still look so wonderful?”

  “Don’t be so quick to thank me. I doubt anyone but you or I would approve of the work arrangement. You’ll be married to my cousin shortly, and in all likelihood, he won’t allow it. I spoke in haste. Perhaps it’s best to put all thought of returning to this clinic out of your head.”

  She tried not to show her disappointment. For the moment, it was enough that Robbie appreciated the work she’d done. Breaking off her engagement to Charles wouldn’t fix matters either. Robbie wouldn’t have her back under those terms. He’d never hurt his cousin that way for they were close as brothers.

  “As for the dare,” he continued, his gaze never leaving her face, “I don’t see how you’ve forfeited. I believe your part of the bargain was to show up here every day and you’ve done that.”

  “Show up and work were the terms.” She gazed in the direction of the bedchamber that was visible through the open door. She would miss that bed. Miss the sandalwood scent of his body on the sheets.

  “You have been working. Isn’t that what we were just talking about?” He slapped the neat pile of hospital reports on his desk. “As I said, you haven’t forfeited. As for your last question, how do I manage to look so spectacularly magnificent—”

  She burst out laughing, appreciating his attempt to inject humor into their discussion. “I said no such thing. I merely remarked that you look wonderful, that’s all.”

  He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned his big body against the edge of his desk. “Ah, my mistake. I’m so used to being worshiped by the fairer sex that it quite swells my head. Alas, it’s always my wealth and title that they covet. I wouldn’t be quite so spectacular if I were a penniless doctor.”

  “Oh, Robbie. I’m sorry. That’s why you hate these social af
fairs, all the more now while the cream of elegant society is up from London and looking down their noses at everyone without a title. And even looking down their noses at the Scottish titles, which they rank as inferior to their own. But there will come a time when you’ll meet the woman who admires you for all the right reasons. For your intelligence and compassion.” She walked to his side. “She’ll be the luckiest woman alive, for I don’t think I’ve ever met a finer man than you. It has nothing to do with your wealth or your title, and all to do with your generous heart and noble character.”

  She turned away, suddenly realizing she had said too much. Far too much. She was engaged to be married for now anyway and yet her heart ached for the man standing beside her. She’d never forgotten his kiss. Indeed, she closed her eyes every night thinking of it.

  “Frances?” He spoke her name with an inflection of pained surprise. Oh, heavens! She’d made a fool of herself and he was thinking of a way to let her down gently. First a kiss on the night of her betrothal and now she’d practically admitted her love for him.

  She forced a laugh, trying to make light of her words. “Well, I do like you, even though I can’t look at you without thinking of that horrid rice. My stomach rebels at the mere thought of seeing another grain.”

  He eased his stance, but only slightly. “I suppose mine would, too, if I had an arrogant doctor spooning that swill into my mouth every day.” He reached out and tucked a finger under her chin to turn her to face him. “Your eyes are clear and your complexion is rosy. Frances, you’re fit to be released from your dungeon. Take the day off. You haven’t left here in over a week. It’s time you saw Charlie and your family.”

  He was purposely sending her away. Her smile slipped a little. “They may not wish to see me. They’re all quite angry. Vi said so in her letters. She wrote to me every day and sent a new letter along with my daily change of clothes. I suppose Charles will be relieved to know I haven’t succumbed to… you know.” She couldn’t bring herself to mention the name of the disease ever again.

  His finger remained tucked under her chin. “I won’t diminish the severity of the danger you faced, but you’re in the clear now and suffered no ill effects. In truth, the rest has done you good. The Earl of Danforth’s ball is tomorrow night. You need to attend with Charlie. He isn’t angry so much as worried about you. He needs to see that you’re well and looking forward to marrying him.”

  “Will you be there?”

  He dropped his hand to his side. “No. I never go to these affairs.”

  She swallowed hard to relieve the lump of sadness caught in her throat. “Oh, that’s right.”

  “Although I might show up, if only to see the look on Lord Digby’s face when you turn up looking… he thinks I’ve been working you to the bone, but you… well, you look radiant.”

  “The Duke of Kintyre has given me the day off,” Frances explained to her parents as she entered the salon of their townhouse on Canongate. She arrived with Vi, who had insisted on coming along to lend support, and Frances had gladly taken her up on the offer.

  To her surprise, Charles was there as well, already seated in the salon beside her sister, Meredith, the pair seemingly engaged in serious conversation.

  “He visits every day,” Meredith said, jumping to her feet the moment she noticed Frances walk in. She sounded angry and at the same time quite defensive. “We’ve all been worried about you. Why haven’t you come by sooner?”

  Her brother, Brandon, casually stood beside the hearth toying with the fire irons. He grinned when he saw her and strode forward to give her a big hug. He then planted an annoyingly wet kiss on her cheek, a gentle reminder that he was still her irritating brother even if he was now a much sought after bachelor. “I missed you, Fee.”

  She rubbed her cheek dry with the sleeve of her gown, but her heart was eased by his welcome. “I missed you, too,” she said, laughing as she shook her head.

  At twenty, Brandon was only a year her junior and had already developed a well-deserved reputation as a rake. His coloring was similar to hers, auburn hair and dark green eyes, but he stood a head taller and was quite muscular while she had remained merely average and unremarkable in all her feminine proportions.

  Meredith, their younger sister, had just turned nineteen. She was the beauty of the Cameron family, her honey-gold locks and blue-green eyes so lovely she’d ensorcelled several eligible young men during her first season.

  Frances felt like a rather bland mushroom next to her, but she never minded fading into the background and allowing her sister to shine. Meredith, being the youngest in the family, seemed to need more pampering than either she or Brandon. Their two older sisters were already married and happily settled.

  Frances might have been the third sister to marry well and settle happily, but that wasn’t going to happen now that she’d met and fallen in love with Robbie.

  She glanced at Charles, knowing she had to take him aside and confess her feelings to him, but now was not the time. Her siblings were fussing over her. She’d missed them sincerely. Until the dare, hers had been a close-knit family and she’d always gotten along well with her siblings despite their very different natures. There were rarely any great dramas in the Cameron household.

  The dare had caused a painful rift and damaged those close bonds.

  “Brought reinforcements with you, I see,” her brother continued, giving Vi an equally disrespectful kiss on the cheek that earned him a wallop. “My favorite battle-ax. Always good to see you, Vi.”

  That earned him another wallop.

  But his antics had the desired effect of easing tensions in the room. Frances wanted to hug him again for that. However, she knew all would not go smoothly, for her parents were not nearly as mirthful or forgiving.

  Charles stood quietly all the while, but he was obviously troubled.

  So was Meredith, who had come to her feet beside him, although she did her best to appear cheerful.

  Brandon was the only one unaffected by the dare.

  “Charles,” she said cautiously, “I look forward to attending the Earl of Danforth’s ball with you tomorrow evening.”

  “You’re going?” Meredith paled and her eyes began to tear.

  Frances groaned inwardly. Her sister was never very good at hiding her feelings. Did Meredith believe that she would not be permitted to go now? “Charles can escort both of us.”

  Oh, dear! Would their father allow it? He wasn’t pleased that Meredith was now officially out in society and had made no secret of his concern that she was still too young to attend these grander social functions. He might keep her home now that Frances had just said she was attending. “Isn’t that right, Father? We can all go together. I think that would be lovely. You don’t mind, do you, Charles?”

  “Oh, how could you?” Her sister ran crying from the room.

  Charles and Brandon both started after her, but Brandon placed a hand on Charles’ shoulder. “I’ll calm down the brat. She’s been prickly as a porcupine all week long. Stay with Frances. You’ve seen little enough of her as it is.”

  No one said anything for a long moment after Brandon left the room. Frances’ father remained on his feet beside her mother’s chair, his hand resting on the back of it in a manner that appeared endearingly protective. “Frances,” he said finally, his tone exasperated rather than angry, “your behavior has been a strain on all of us. We’ve been so worried about you.”

  “I know, Father. It hasn’t been easy for me either.”

  Charles finally spoke. “No doubt my cousin has made it difficult for you.”

  She didn’t wish to lie to him, but neither could she simply blurt out the truth. “At first, but after a week of forcing me to scrub floors and empty chamber pots—”

  Her mother gasped. “And you accepted to do this? Because of some foolish wager struck by a roomful of drunken men at your engagement party? A wager these same men regretted the following morning once they’d sobered? You ought to have
walked out the moment the duke handed you the scrub brush.”

  Frances shook her head. “No, I couldn’t. I would have lost my right to have a say concerning the hospital expansion.”

  Charles moved to her side so that they both stood near her parents. “You had no say from the beginning, Frances. You would have lost nothing in conceding.”

  This was not going well. Frances knew she ought to keep her mouth shut and simply agree, but she couldn’t. “I would have lost everything. How can you not see it, Charles? Don’t women make up half of the hospital population? Shouldn’t one of us have the right to voice an opinion even about the little comforts specific to us? How can any man know what a woman experiences in her body—”

  “Frances! That will be quite enough,” her father intoned. “I’ll not have you speaking of such matters!”

  “Indeed, not,” her mother agreed, taking hold of her father’s hand to calm him as his face began to redden. “My dear, you mustn’t distress yourself. The matter will be over in a week and we’ll all return to our daily routines. Frances, too. Do you think the duke will permit her to remain underfoot more than a moment longer than necessary?”

  Frances noticed that Charles had his lips pursed in thought. “I don’t know what my cousin will do regarding Frances,” he said. “I thought he’d load her down with work until she could bear no more and beg to be released from this dare, but it obviously hasn’t happened. Then Frances became… er…”

  “I became difficult as always,” she said in a rush. “But let’s say no more about that.” Oh, dear! Was he going to tattle about her being exposed to Mrs. Fuller’s son? In truth, she wasn’t being fair to Charles to call it tattling when the consequences could have been quite dire.

  Charles had every right to be angry about the incident, but she cast him an imploring look not to mention her encounter with the young cholera patient to her parents. After all, she hadn’t caught the disease and had spent the past week being pampered.

  Vi came to her rescue. “Indeed, we all know how difficult Frances can be. But the duke can be difficult as well. The point is that they’ve worked it out. Frances is no longer scrubbing floors and has been given responsibilities suitable to her education. You ought to be proud of her negotiation skills. As you can see, she’s done all right for herself. She looks better than she ever has, don’t you think?”