Wilson, Gayle

by Anne's Perfect Husband

Ian's eyes opened. Brought back to the present by the question in them, she again pressed her handkerchief over the cut. She kept her eyes resolutely on the task, but she was aware that his had not closed again. They remained fastened on her face as she worked. Fighting to keep her fingers steady, however, she refused to meet them.

  After all, Ian Sinclair was in love with another woman. And she knew that what she had been imagining was in his eyes as he had leaned against her today had been only that. Only what she had imagined.

  ***

  "A broken rib, I suspect," McKinley said, lightly touching Ian's back and side. "Possibly more than one."

  His fingers pressed more firmly as they worked their way downward. Ian flinched against the pain, trying, as he had from the beginning, not to let any sound escape as the physician made his careful examination.

  "I can bind them to give you some relief. The rest of the damage appears to be superficial. The bruising itself will cause some discomfort, but that will become less noticeable after a few days. My best advice is to stay off your feet and allow your leg to heal. This," he said, running his palm along Ian's side, "will resolve itself as you rest the knee."

  The worst of the aftereffects from yesterday's confrontation was whatever he had done to his knee. Weakened by the injuries he had suffered on the Peninsula, the leg had been badly wrenched when he had fallen. Today his knee was swollen and so painful he could hardly bear to put his weight on it.

  When he and Anne had arrived at the town house yesterday, Ian had dispatched a note to his brother. He had known that Dare would come to town as soon as he could. He hadn't realized, however, that the earl would leave the Sinclair estate immediately upon receiving his message. Dare had arrived in London before dawn, and as soon as he realized Ian had been hurt, he had sent for McKinley.

  Had it not been for the doctor's support of Ian's request for privacy, he knew that his brother would have been in the room while McKinley made this assessment. And Ian was very reluctant to have him see the current damage.

  "Of course, since you seldom follow the advice of your physicians, Mr. Sinclair," McKinley went on, "I have little hope that you'll give this the time it needs to heal."

  "I assure you, Dr. McKinley, I have lived most sedately since we last talked."

  "Forgive me, sir, if I beg to doubt that claim. The evidence to the contrary is, after all, before my eyes. Do you mind telling me exactly how you managed to break your ribs and bruise your back in this fashion? That question is simply medical curiosity, I assure you. If you choose to kill yourself, it is really nothing to me."

  Ian laughed, and then wished he hadn't. He couldn't prevent a small gasp at the resulting shard of agony in his side.

  "It's your brother I am sorry for," McKinley continued, as if he hadn't heard that telltale inhalation. "He has no idea, of course, that if you continue in this fashion, he may lose you. I believe his affection for you to be quite genuine. I've a good mind to tell him exactly what a fool he has for a brother."

  "You will find he is well aware of that," Ian said, smiling as he remembered Dare's comments the last time he'd been injured.

  Apparently his voice revealed his amusement about those remarks, for McKinley said stiffly, "It seems that the concern the earl and I have for your continuing survival is not one you share. Rather, it is cause for mockery. I wonder why you would call in a physician if you care so little for your life."

  Hearing the undisguised anger in the doctor's tone, Ian feared he had thoroughly alienated the man, perhaps enough to drive him to speak to Dare about the danger of that piece of shrapnel lodged in his chest. And there was nothing, of course, that Ian desired less than that disclosure. Especially now.

  "My ward and I were attacked."

  The remembrance was certainly enough to destroy any lingering remnants of amusement in his tone.

  "Attacked?" McKinley repeated in disbelief.

  Using the post of the bed he had been holding on to for balance while the doctor carried out his examination, Ian turned to face the physician, whose features reflected the same shock his voice had just conveyed.

  "On a street in this city. A sweep was beating one of his climbing boys, and Miss Darlington, who is both impetuous and courageous, intervened. For some reason, things very quickly got out of hand. The mob that had gathered to watch the sweep's punishment turned ugly."

  "And attacked you?"

  "My ward was attempting to take the boy away from his master. There seemed to be some resentment about our interference in his livelihood, and it...boiled over. That's the only explanation I can make for what occurred."

  "I can't say I would blame her for that attempted rescue," McKinley said. "The way those children are treated is a disgrace to this nation. Still, it would take a remarkable woman to rush to a climbing boy's defense."

  "You will find no disagreement from me with either of those opinions, Dr. McKinley."

  "And then you, of course, felt compelled to rush to her defense, despite... Despite the risks," the doctor amended, thankfully leaving unsaid the warning he'd made the last time he had examined Ian. "Impetuous and courageous, indeed."

  McKinley's eyes continued to examine Ian's face as, still holding to the bedpost, his patient eased his battered frame down to the edge of the high mattress.

  "And apparently a lightning rod for trouble," the doctor went on. "This is the same ward, I take it, in whose company you were attacked by highwaymen."

  "I have only the one," Ian said, his lips lifting into another remembering smile.

  "Lucky for you, I should think," McKinley said. "Otherwise, I should indeed worry about your survival."

  ***

  The doctor had finished and gone, leaving Ian once again to his bed, thoroughly exhausted by the ordeal. At least his ribs were now tightly strapped, and, as McKinley had promised, they were less painful. With the heavy dose of laudanum he had insisted Ian drink, even the agony in his knee was beginning to dull to something bearable.

  He had expected Dare's visit from the moment of the physician's departure. Perhaps his brother had accompanied McKinley to the door, asking him the kind of probing questions Ian had managed to avoid for the last year and a half. And he could only hope that the doctor still felt bound by the terms of his original promise not to answer them.

  When the door of his bedroom eased open, Ian turned his head to discover his brother looking around it. Finding that he was still awake, the earl walked in, closing the door behind him.

  As desperately as he was trying to interpret his brother's expression, Ian found he was uncertain how much Dare had been told. Of course, if McKinley had not kept his confidence, he would be made aware of it soon enough.

  "As I'm sure your sawbones told you, I'm still not likely to turn up my toes in the family crypt," Ian said, injecting the kind of gentle raillery into his tone that was customary between them. "You have permission to stop worrying."

  His brother crossed the room and stood looking down on him. Ian held up his hand, and Dare enclosed it in his, the grip warm and strong. His expression, however, was still enigmatic.

  "I have seen far too much of you in the horizontal lately to do that," Dare said. "McKinley says you have broken ribs."

  "He wasn't sure," Ian hedged. "He strapped them in case."

  "And your leg?"

  "Hurts like bloody hell. Not something I am unaccustomed to, I assure you."

  Dare's lips tightened and then pursed, as if he were thinking. "You didn't send for me to offer sympathy. If I know you, and believe me I do, then I should be the last person you'd want hovering at your bedside."

  Despite the haze from the laudanum that was beginning to steal over his senses, Ian couldn't prevent a smile at the accuracy of that judgment. And feeling the effects of the drug, he knew he wouldn't have long to talk. Not coherently.

  Perhaps it would be better to reveal what he had been thinking, as well as the doctor's comment, which seemed to back up his own belief. Then h
e would give the problem over to his brother's intelligence, trusting him to separate whatever needed looking into from what might be nothing but drug-induced fantasy.

  "The sweep's boy seemed old," Ian said.

  "Old?" Dare repeated. He leaned closer, apparently trying to make sure he had heard the words correctly.

  "Anne thought so," Ian said, knowing he wasn't expressing this well and that it probably made no sense to his brother.

  However, the opium was running through his veins in a great roaring wave now. Suddenly, what he had been worrying about since the attack yesterday didn't seem important any more. And far too difficult to explain. After all, Val was here now, and nothing else would happen.

  He closed his eyes, still trying to organize his wayward thoughts. They seemed to be drifting everywhere but where he wanted them to go. He knew there had been something else he needed to tell his brother. Something important.

  Perhaps if he had gotten some sleep last night, he would have been able to concentrate. That's what the doctor had told him. The last thing McKinley had said as he walked out the door. Try to get some sleep.

  And with Val here... He opened his eyes, and found his brother still standing beside his bed.

  There was something else he wanted to say, Ian thought. He couldn't seem to find the right words, however. Maybe if he closed his eyes for a moment, just to rest them, then it would come back to him. Just for a moment.

  Dare released his hand and laid it on his chest, pulling the covers over it. Aware on some level of what Val was doing, Ian opened his eyes again, afraid his brother was leaving. He was relieved to see him instead take the chair from beneath the window and bring it to the bedside. As soon as Dare realized he was watching him, the earl smiled at him.

  "Go to sleep," he advised. "You can tell me about it when you wake."

  Ian wanted to tell Dare that he must stay until he had told him the whole, but it seemed too much trouble to form those words. Besides, he knew his brother. There was no danger of Val deserting him. And he was right, of course. He would be able to think more clearly after he had slept.

  Ian Sinclair closed his eyes, no longer conscious that there had been something very important he needed to share with his brother. Something he had believed last night to be important enough to call the earl back to London. Something whose urgency had now been lost in the massive dose of laudanum the doctor had administered before he left.

  Chapter Ten

  "How is he?" Anne asked the Earl of Dare.

  She had been waiting in the hallway outside Ian's bedroom for most of the morning. She had not been brave enough to stop the doctor in order to pose her question. Sometime in the slow hours that had passed, however, her reluctance had been pushed aside by her growing anxiety.

  "He's asleep," Dare said.

  He attempted to walk around her, probably headed downstairs for breakfast or dinner, neither of which he had bothered with before. Anne took a step to the side, blocking his passage.

  Dare stopped, one dark brow raised as he looked down into her face. He was taller than his brother, she realized, and though the family resemblance was clear, his classically handsome features were more finely formed. And right now, his cold blue eyes seemed to be boring a hole through her.

  "I really need to know how Mr. Sinclair is, Lord Dare," she said. "Would you please tell me?"

  "And why are you so interested in my brother's condition? Guilt, perhaps? I understand you were instrumental in beginning that ridiculous contretemps in which he was injured."

  "Ridiculous, my lord?" she asked, stung by the accusation. "I don't believe your brother thought it ridiculous."

  She could feel her cheeks begin to flush, this time from anger. Although there was certainly an element of guilt in her concern for Ian, it was not over her defense of the child.

  "Did you give him an opportunity to decide whether or not your interference on that boy's behalf was worth his dying for?"

  The word chilled her blood. "Dying?" she whispered.

  "He isn't, thank God. No thanks, however, are due to you for that. A gentleman has little choice about coming to the defense of a woman in his charge, even if her actions are both ill-advised and foolhardy."

  "The man was beating a child. What would you have had me do, my lord?"

  "I would have had you refrain from putting my brother into danger for your own quixotic motives."

  "I see," she said tightly. "And it is quixotic to you to attempt to rescue a child."

  "As quixotic as it was of Ian to attempt to protect you from the consequences of your actions. Believe me, I'm thoroughly annoyed with both of you."

  Again he attempted to move past her, and again she stepped in front of him.

  "There is little I can do about your opinion of me, Lord Dare," she said. Nor do I give a damn what it is, she thought rebelliously. "However, I should still like an answer to my question, if you please."

  "I don't please. If you'll excuse me, Miss Darlington..." He offered her a half bow, the gesture far too polite for the tenor of the conversation they were having.

  "You don't like me," Anne said. "And you have made that abundantly clear. Whatever I've done to inspire that dislike—"

  "I don't dislike you, Miss Darlington. I dislike the fact that you endanger my brother. I warned him from the beginning that this guardianship would be nothing but trouble. Even I couldn't conceive, however, how right I should be proven to be."

  "From the beginning," she repeated. "And why would you have believed, even before you met me, that I should prove troublesome? I can assure you that has never been my reputation. Nor was it your brother's opinion of me. I wonder why it should have been yours, my lord."

  There was a small hesitation and, if possible, the earl's eyes seemed to grow colder than they had been before. "Perhaps I am simply an outstanding judge of character, Miss Darlington."

  "But at the beginning of your brother's guardianship, you had no way of knowing mine."

  Dare's lips tightened, as if he had clamped them shut against the rejoinder he wanted to make. And from what was in his eyes, there was no doubt he wanted to make one.

  When he finally opened them, he said instead, "You told Ian the boy was too old. Would you explain to me what you meant?"

  The question was almost incomprehensible because she had been expecting something very different. Something caustic and bitter. Accusing. His tone had been neither, and that, too, confused her. But the only boy she and Ian had ever discussed had been the climbing boy. The one who had started everything yesterday with his cries and his pleas for rescue. What the child's age could have to do with anything...

  However, Ian had asked her this same question in the coach. Her mind occupied with worry for her guardian, she hadn't understood the relevance of it then. She didn't now.

  "He asked me how old I would judge the boy to be. I didn't see why it mattered. I still don't, but I gave him my opinion."

  "Give it to me," Dare suggested.

  "Eight or so. It was hard to tell, given the deprivations in his background. He was small and thin, but still..." She hesitated, recreating the urchin's dirty face in her mind's eye. After she had, she could see no reason to change her original estimate. "What difference can it possibly make how old he was?"

  "I'm not sure," Dare said. "Ian seemed to think it was important enough for him to attempt to tell me about it, despite the fact that he was half-asleep with the doctor's dosing. I suppose laudanum alone could be responsible for whatever significance he has attached to the child's age."

  "Except he asked me this question yesterday. When there was nothing to interfere with his ability to reason."

  Dare's lips quirked. "Very astute, Miss Darlington. Perhaps it is your intellect that has so attracted my brother. And all along I had believed it was your speaking eyes."

  She examined the words, searching them for any other possible meaning. Any meaning other than the one that seemed to be obvious, if unbelievabl
e.

  "Attracted your brother?" she repeated, feeling foolish even as she picked that phrase out of the whole.

  "He hasn't told you? How clumsy of me then to reveal his secret. I'm afraid Ian clings to the rather strange idea that because he was injured so severely, he is no longer worthy of a woman's interest. No matter how strongly he is attracted to that woman. I wonder that your intellect has not allowed you to arrive at that conclusion."

  No matter how strongly he is attracted to that woman... No matter how strongly...

  "You don't mean me, my lord?" Anne said.

  "Then I wonder why I would bother to have had this conversation with you, Miss Darlington. I am not yet in my dotage, I assure you, despite the difference in our ages."

  "But..."

  Again she searched her memory for Elizabeth's exact words. As she did, the remembrance of what had been in Ian's eyes as he had looked into hers yesterday was in her mind as well. And in light of what the earl had just said, that look took on a new and compelling significance, causing her to rethink everything she had believed she understood about their relationship. Although his gaze remained on her face, surprisingly the earl refrained from comment as she reviewed all the things that had caused her to reach that understanding.

  "He is in love with someone else," she said finally, realizing that one piece of information was at the heart of what she had been led to believe.

  "And who told you that? My so-noble, pigheaded brother?"

  "Your wife."

  "Elizabeth?" Dare said, a crease forming between the wings of his brows. "I wonder why she should think that."

  "Perhaps because your brother told her?" Anne said, feeling her pulse begin to increase at Dare's puzzlement.

  "If so, I can assure you he did it with a purpose. That ridiculous nobility I was talking about."

  "Because of his health?"

  "Another quixotic notion. The two of you deserve one another," Dare said mockingly.

  "You are mistaken," Anne said, trying desperately to quell the surging hope.

  This had been a battle she had believed she was winning. She had been forced to accept that, no matter how she felt about him, Ian Sinclair was in love with another woman. He had turned his head away from her touch because of it.