Greyson debated chastising him for his behavior, but decided to let it go. For the moment, at least.
“I’m famished and could use something to eat.”
“At once, my lord.” Holland smiled and turned to leave, but Lady Merrick reached out to stop him.
“Just broth. If he handles it well, we will add to it.”
“Very good, my lady.”
Greyson inwardly seethed. First she treated him like a baby, and now she overruled his orders to his servants. Then, to make matters worse, they’d obediently took her suggestions over his. She’d never shown such courage before. What exactly had occurred while he was out of commission?
When the door clicked shut, she didn’t even look in his direction. Instead she flitted about the room, tidying up and refolding perfectly folded towels. She appeared nervous, and he wondered how she could go from touching him freely to not being able to look at him.
“From the unusual reaction, I take it I have been out for a while.”
“Yes.” She still didn’t look at him.
“How long?”
Her pause was telling and most frustrating. “Almost a fortnight.” She turned to him as he drew his head back in shock. “You suffered an infection from the bullet. We began to lose hope that you would ever recover.”
Two weeks . . . it was unheard of to survive a fever after so long. The awe he’d observed today was explainable now. After such a long period, he could not believe his fortune either.
Before he could question her further, Holland returned with the steaming broth. Greyson’s stomach growled at the sight.
Instead of bringing it to him as he expected, Holland presented it to Lady Merrick. She took it and brought it to the bed, positioning herself as she had with the water. It was too much. Pointing out his weakness in private was bad enough, but to do so in front of a member of his staff crossed the line.
Grabbing the cup, Greyson glared at her, then spoke to his butler. “That will be all for now, Holland.”
Without looking to see if the man exited the room, Greyson waited to hear the click of the door.
Lady Merrick stood, placed her hands on her hips, and glared down at him. Anger lit her face. If he had not been so angry, he would have enjoyed seeing her so full of passion.
“Do you honestly believe you no longer require my assistance?”
The reminder of how she had been forced to help him fueled his rage. “Why are you so quick to believe I need it now?”
“You are not fully recovered yet. If you allow me to assist you, you will improve in time.”
“Don’t act concerned for me. For all I know you enjoyed running the house without me to interfere. I noticed how quickly Holland deferred to your judgment over mine.”
“For your benefit,” she yelled, incredulous. “Everything is always for your benefit.”
“Not all. I believe you like having me weak and at your mercy, but no longer. I’m not a child in need of mothering.”
“Then stop acting like one.”
Her accusation slapped him in the face and his head reared back. Throughout his life, he’d suffered many insults. The majority of them he’d silenced with his fists, but the words could never be erased. However, he’d never been treated thusly in his own home. The last two weeks had thrown everything off. He would just have to re-teach his wife where her place was in his house.
“As soon as I return to my former self, beware. Things are going to change around here,” he warned darkly.
To his surprise, she didn’t respond with anger, but shrank back from him. Her eyes went wide and her hands fidgeted with the fabric of her dress. She was afraid. Although he wanted to feel satisfaction by her cowering, he felt like an ass.
He regretted threatening her. As he tried to form the correct words to apologize, she ran from the room. Feeling exhausted from the argument, he set the broth down on the tray, before sinking further into the pillows. His wife was right. He needed help, but he would be damned if he allowed her to continue to see him helpless.
Being injured had already proved his weakness, and then to not have the necessary strength to ward off infection had compounded the situation. Women didn’t like men who were feeble. They desired protection from a capable man.
“Good morning, Greyson.” Jonathan entered the room, unannounced. “Lady Merrick told me you were better today.”
“Apparently. She knows best.” Greyson meant to be sarcastic, but Jonathan simply smiled and nodded.
“I know. That woman is amazing. She never left your side. Did she tell you how she saved your life?”
“No.” Greyson felt his eyes widen, surprised his wife had cared enough to see to him personally. He quickly schooled his expression, not liking the reverent tone Jonathan had used when talking about her.
“She didn’t care for Doctor Jones, so she sent him packing and took over your care personally.”
Greyson couldn’t believe she would do such a thing. Was she really concerned over his health, or had she hoped he would die? He wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answer. Thinking of her made him feel uncomfortable, and he could no longer hear of how much she had observed his weakness.
“I’m so sorry this happened to you. I feel responsible.” Jonathan’s normally joking manner dissolved as misery entered his face.
“Why? The one to blame is the man who had the gun.”
“I tried to flush the thief out by spreading rumors. I didn’t think it would work so quickly, or I would have been there.”
“Don’t blame yourself. Your plan worked.”
Although surprised by Jonathan’s involvement, Greyson didn’t want his friend to feel guilty. Typically Jonathan took a more active role only when specifically asked to do so. It was unusual for him to attempt something of this scale by himself.
“But at what cost? I can’t believe—”
“Forget about it. I would rather talk about the holes in my memory of that night. How did I even get home? I remember being shot, then waking up this morning.” He did remember other things he didn’t wish to relay. A wild red-headed angel tended to him more than once from what he could recall. She had been soft, warm, and so real. He wondered if she had been assigned to him at night. Would she return tonight? He hoped for an opportunity to meet her, and perhaps touch the fire again.
He shook his head. His wife didn’t want him, and most likely the angel wouldn’t either. Why was nothing ever simple?
“Nathaniel found you and hired a hackney to bring you here.” Jonathan sat on the rocking chair and leaned forward. “From the trail of blood leaving your office, I imagined you had an unobstructed view of your attacker in order to get a clear shot. Who was it? Who shot you?”
“Algers.”
Jonathan pressed his lips together tightly and slowly nodded. “I don’t know why I’m surprised. He was on the list.”
“What list?” Greyson tried to sit forward, but the pain had him leaning back again. This was becoming tiresome.
“Nathaniel compiled a list of employees who didn’t return to work. We have been seeking out each one to find an injured man, but so far most of them are unreachable. I take it Algers was also the thief?”
“Yes, and the others were probably working under him. Apparently Kirkwood hired him a year ago to wreak havoc at Ravenhurst. When Algers went to obtain his pay, we had already taken care of Kirkwood.”
“I never expected a man to strike from beyond the grave. Too bad we can’t have a word with him now.” Jonathan rubbed his chin. “Although, killing a dead body might not be a crime. I imagine Lady Stonemede would like a chance at that.”
The reminder of what had happened to Richard’s wife made Greyson’s heart stop. Algers still remained out there. And he planned on making Lady Merrick the next target.
Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, Greyson ignored the pain as he used his sore muscles to pull his upper body straight. “Where is Lady Merrick?”
“Why? What are you doing?
I’m not sure this is a good idea.”
“Help me get up. I need to check on my wife.”
“She’s fine. Her cousin is with her.”
Greyson relaxed as he sat on the edge of his bed. He knew his reaction was unreasonable, but he could not help the panic that overtook him. Taking a deep breath, he reminded himself that as long as she remained in the house, she would be protected. Even if Algers arrived at the door, Holland would never grant him an audience with the lady of the house.
“Good. She looked tired. I hope the visit revitalizes her.”
“I’m sure it will. The day is lovely, and the fresh air is sure to revive even the most tired soul. Can I help you get back into bed now?”
“What do you mean by fresh air? Where is she?” Panic snaked its way back into his chest, clogging his throat.
“She and her cousin are taking a walk. I’m not sure of their destination, though.”
“We have to find her now. She is Algers’ next target.”
Chapter 10
Abigail always enjoyed her time out of doors. She loved the sun and the beautiful sights she encountered. Every day, except today. She didn’t know how she expected Lord Merrick to act, but his yelling at her had never crossed her mind. How could he think she enjoyed seeing him like that? To endure never-ending worry that he would not awaken. She seethed at the memory of his accusation.
“I’m glad you finally consented to see me, but I understand if you would prefer to return home.” Julia looked at her with concerned eyes.
“No. I need an outing. Since I know Lord Merrick shall survive, there is no reason for me to remain cooped up in the house.” Especially since he intended to beat her.
She should not be surprised by his admission, as she knew it was only a matter of time. Enjoying months of hope while her body healed had been pleasant. Previous to Lord Merrick, she’d never had a full week before her father sought her out again. Most of the time, she didn’t have more than a day or two in between.
Sighing, she spotted her favorite shop. The milliner had an uncanny ability with hats. She loved to see the new creations before they were sold. Julia shared her fascination as well, so the destination must have been predetermined by her cousin.
“Would you like to come see what Madam Clairborne has today?” Julia asked, anticipation lacing her words.
For once in her life, Abigail found she had no taste for hats. “Why don’t you go in without me? I’ll sit here and wait for you. I’m enjoying the sun far too much today.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I will not have you out here alone. We can visit the shop another time.”
“Then the best ones will be gone. Please, go in. I’m content to stay here.”
“If you are sure . . .”
“I am,” Abigail assured.
“I promise to be quick.” Julia didn’t finish her words before she opened the shop door.
Abigail smiled at her cousin’s enthusiasm. Two weeks ago, she would have shared the feeling, but so much had happened during that time. Nothing would be the same now, her husband confirmed it.
Sitting on the bench, she watched the busy people passing by. No one appeared to be particularly happy, and she wondered if something about the day had put everyone in a foul mood. Lord Merrick was certainly affected.
“My lady, please help me,” someone called from behind her.
Turning around, she didn’t see anyone, but the space between the milliner’s shop and the bakery had places to shield someone from view. Imagining she misheard, she faced the street again.
“Lady Merrick,” the voice, full of pain, begged.
Facing the alley once again, she spied a man standing there. His shirt from his left shoulder and down his body was caked in dried blood. Horrified, she stood, wanting to get help for the man. As she took a step toward the alley, a hand touched her shoulder, making her jump.
Relief flooded her to see Lord Jonathan. He could help.
“Lord Jonathan, this man needs assistance.” She indicated the alleyway, now empty. “He was just here. Covered in blood.”
His eyes scanned the alley before turning back to her. “Where is Lady Scholton? I thought the two of you came together.”
Alarm shot through her at his abrupt tone. Something was wrong. “Julia is in the milliner’s shop. Why? What is going on? Is Lord Merrick all right?”
“He is fine.” Lord Jonathan’s tone softened, and he smiled. “I believe your husband simply misses your company. Come, let’s get your cousin and return to the house.”
Abigail didn’t believe a word he said. Her husband had already made his dislike of her company clear. However, she followed along with Lord Jonathan as they collected Julia and made their way back to Thorpe House. Once they arrived, her cousin must have sensed a problem, since she quickly made an exit.
“Are you going to tell me what is really going on?” Abigail asked Lord Jonathan after they entered the drawing room.
“London is a dangerous place for women to go places alone. I just wanted to ensure myself of your safety.”
“What has changed your opinion of it? Earlier you encouraged me and Julia to obtain some fresh air.”
“That was before I . . . I mean, after being shot, Greyson is more concerned for your safety. For his benefit, promise me you will you not venture out without male protection?”
Something more had occurred, but she didn’t imagine he would tell her. Considering his outlook on London’s hazards had changed after speaking with her husband, she knew whom she should seek out for the information.
“I will,” she promised, noticing him visibly relax. “As I have been gone for a while, I should go check on my husband.”
“Yes. I’ll leave you now. As usual, if you need me, I’ll hurry here.”
After he left, she made her way upstairs. She hoped her husband adopted a better mood. Over this past fortnight, she’d felt so close to him, and it pained her to lose their relationship now that he’d returned to himself. Hearing loud voices, she stopped inches from the door.
“Damn it, Holland!” her husband bellowed. “You have no right.”
Hearing Lord Merrick’s fury made her break out into a cold sweat. Many times she’d heard that tone from her father. It never ended well.
Holland responded, too muffled for her to understand.
“Get out! I have already dismissed you. Do you want me to call The Watch?” Although loud, Lord Merrick’s words were slurred.
She stood, heart pumping wildly, waiting for something more from inside. Was Holland all right? Why had he not responded? Clutching her chest, she debated opening the door, but fear kept her motionless.
After a long pause, Holland exited. He jumped after he saw her standing there, but he didn’t appear harmed.
“I wasn’t aware you returned, my lady.” He sounded calm, as if nothing unusual had occurred in Lord Merrick’s bedchamber.
“What happened?” she whispered to Holland, searching his face for an explanation.
“I gave him some laudanum. He wasn’t pleased about it, but I felt it necessary.”
“Why? He appeared fit an hour ago.”
“When I arrived, he had fallen on the floor in an attempt to rise from the bed.”
“Are you certain? Could it have been an accident?” She could not believe Lord Merrick would do something so foolish. Surely he knew it would take time to acclimate himself to the pain and encourage his muscles to work properly again.
“He was insistent and mightily unpleasant. When I forced him to drink the laudanum, his language deteriorated, and he decided to terminate my position within the household.”
“Then I reestablish you. You did the right thing.” She lightly patted his arm.
He smiled. “Thank you, my lady. In case he remembers his tirade, it may be best if I remain out of his presence for the time being.”
“That is quite all right. Mrs. Boart can assist me if I require it.”
“Actually, I
’m not sure she would be willing.” Holland shifted uncomfortably. “Word travels fast and once the staff discovers I was released, they will keep away for fear of losing their positions as well.”
“I see.” Abigail wiped a weary hand over her forehead. Incurring Lord Merrick’s wrath meant lost positions for the servants, but it meant pain for her. Pushing the thought aside, she dismissed Holland. There was no help for her.
Turning back to the door, she knocked, but no sound came from within. Stepping into the dark room, she noticed the curtains were drawn. Cautiously continuing forward, she approached her husband’s bed. His eyes were closed, but the slow rise and fall of his chest indicated he lived.
She refused to idly sit by, waiting for her husband to awaken, so she left him to enter her bedchamber. Grabbing her needlework and a few books, she returned to set them on the rocking chair next to Lord Merrick’s bed.
After reopening the curtains, she dragged the chair closer to the windows. Not only did she need the light, but she wanted to be further away from him when he awoke. Seeing him once again sleeping peacefully, made her remember how close she felt to him over the past two weeks.
If she wanted to be honest with herself, she had to admit their closeness began long before that. Recalling how kind he had been to her made her miss their previous interactions. Unable to resist, she approached him. With his face so peaceful, she longed for the man she’d seen glimpses of over the course of their marriage.
Stroking the side of his face, she leaned down and lightly touched her lips to his. He was warm without being hot. Knowing he would live gave her relief, but the feeling was short-lived. He was just like her father. If she could, she would return to the days before his injury . . . before she knew how good it felt to lay beside him.
Greyson watched his wife as he hid under the guise of sleeping. Seeing her sitting in his bedchamber as he awoke gave him more relief than he had expected to feel. She was safe.
Misjudging the toll the past two weeks had taken on his body, he’d tried to go after her when he learned she was out with her cousin. The attempt had not gone well. And the traitorous Holland drugged him. But he would not allow himself to show such a weakness again. Clenching the muscles in his chest, he realized he was already becoming accustomed to the pain. All that remained was working his leg muscles. He should be up as soon as tomorrow.
His Perfect Game Page 14
