by Kate Pearce
The man went still and turned toward Alistair who was advancing toward him looking very haughty, indeed.
“You’re the Duke of Thorsway?”
“Yes.” Alistair looked down his nose at the unfortunate man. “Who are you?”
Dr. McNeil bowed. “I’m the local physician. I took over from Dr. Meader just after your father’s death.”
“How convenient for you. I’ve often wanted to ask my father’s doctors why they neglected to tell me he was so ill and assured me that I could return to India.” Alistair gestured toward the stairs. “Perhaps you should go up to my sister? I am very interested to hear your opinion of her current condition.”
“As you wish, your grace.” Dr. McNeil nodded and started for the stairs. “I must admit to some concern for her recovery.”
Margaret followed along behind, quite happy to remain unnoticed and listen to the doctor’s summary of Phoebe Haralson’s condition. She had a lot of experience in tending the sick, and she was interested in what he might have to say.
“She is lethargic, her skin is often red or swollen, and she suffers terribly from stomach problems. Unfortunately, her inability to nourish herself means that she lacks energy and rarely leaves her room.”
“How long has this been going on?” Alistair asked.
“It was a very gradual thing, your grace.” Dr. McNeil paused on the landing. “I—often visit the ladies of the house, and I noticed she seemed quieter at Christmas and less likely to join in the festivities.” He lowered his voice. “At first, forgive me your grace, I did wonder if she was looking for attention. It must be hard for a young lady to live with a beautiful woman like Lady Hellion, and I suspect they did not always get along.”
“Indeed.” Alistair inclined his head an icy inch. “When exactly did you manage to tear your gaze from Lady Hellion and start paying attention to the illness of my sister?”
The doctor’s mouth gaped open. “I—”
“My dear.” Margaret reached forward and grabbed her husband’s sleeve. “Perhaps it might be better to save your opinions until Dr. McNeil has seen his patient?”
He glanced down at her. “As you wish, my love.”
Dr. McNeil offered Margaret a harried glance, and then knocked on the bedroom door, which was opened by one of the maids.
“Miss Phoebe’s awake, Dr. McNeil.”
“Excellent.” He glanced back at them. “Do you wish to come in with me, or wait until I have completed my examination?”
“We’ll wait.”
“Thank you.” Dr. McNeil hurried into the room and closed the door firmly behind him.
Margaret frowned at her husband. “What exactly were you attempting to do, Alistair? Scare the man into running away, leaving your sister with no one to care for her at all?”
“I don’t like him.” Alistair moved restlessly down the corridor until he reached one of the windows and stared out of it.
“On sight?”
“Yes. He’s far too young and handsome. He’s obviously besotted with my stepmother; so besotted, in fact, that he failed to notice my sister was very ill.”
“You might at least give him a chance.” Margaret wasn’t mollified.
“I have.” He flung his hand out toward the door. “He’s in there with her right now, isn’t he?”
She stared at him until he sat down on the window seat beside her and let out his breath.
“I’ll listen to him first and then decide whether he is competent, all right?”
“Thank you.” Margaret took his hand and smoothed her thumb over his palm until he brought her fingers to his mouth and kissed them.
After the clocks chimed the quarter hour, the door opened again, and Dr. McNeil poked his head out and beckoned to them.
“She is in good spirits today and eager to see you.”
“Thank you.” Alistair paused at the door to look down into the doctor’s eyes. “Please don’t rush off. I wish to speak to you after I’ve seen my sister.”
“I usually take tea with Lady Hellion and apprise her of her daughter’s condition.”
“Her stepdaughter.” Alistair nodded. “Then we will see you there.”
They went in, and Margaret stayed slightly behind her husband so as not to disrupt his reunion with his sister.
“Alistair?” the girl on the bed whispered, her eyes wide. “Is it really you?”
“Phoebe.” Alistair went toward her and gathered her in his arms. “Yes, it’s me.”
She pushed against his chest. “You should not have come back! You know—”
“I had to come.” He smoothed her hair away from her face. “I had to see you.”
“But that’s what she wanted!” Hectic color rose on Phoebe’s already reddened cheeks. “You have to go.”
Alistair sat on the side of the bed and held her hand. “I will be careful, I promise you. I do not intend to stay very long. If I can persuade you to return to Hellsdown Park with me, we can be shot of her forever.”
He turned toward Margaret who had remained in the shadows observing the young woman in the bed, and held out his other hand.
“I’m married now. My wife Margaret can be your chaperone and introduce you to society if that is what you wish to do.”
Margaret came forward and smiled at Phoebe. “It is a pleasure to meet you. I do hope you will consider coming to live with us.”
Phoebe simply stared at her and then looked back at Adam. “Does she know?”
“That I’m married? Yes, of course,” Alistair replied. “I introduced her to Margaret earlier.”
“She won’t let me leave,” Phoebe declared.
“But she isn’t the head of the family, I am. If I decide to take you home with me, she can do nothing to stop me.”
There was a note of finality in Alistair’s voice that reminded Margaret very much of her brother concluding a business deal.
Phoebe shook her head. “She wants to go to London with me for my debut and find herself a new husband. She won’t give that up.”
“Margaret will sponsor your debut, won’t you, my dear?” Alistair looked over at her.
“Yes, of course.”
The fact that she had no knowledge of high society, had no acquaintance in town, and the flat accent of a middle-class mill-owner’s daughter seemed not to occur to him.
“She won’t let me go.” Phoebe spoke each word with equal force, her frantic gaze fixed on her brother, and then began to cough, her whole body curling in on itself as she fought for breath.
Margaret rushed forward. “Perhaps we should worry about all that after you are well enough to travel.”
“I will never be well enough.” Phoebe lay back against her pillows and briefly closed her eyes. “She won’t let me.”
Alistair squeezed her hand and then stood up. “We will come back and see you after dinner, if that is acceptable?”
Phoebe nodded, her energy seemingly gone as she turned her face into the pillow and fell instantly asleep.
Margaret opened the door and let the maid in to watch over her mistress. Alistair didn’t speak as they descended the stairs together and headed toward the drawing room. The sound of Frederica’s light laughter and the doctor’s deeper tones filtered through the door.
Margaret grabbed hold of Alistair’s hand, halting his progress.
“Promise me that you will listen to what Dr. McNeil has to say before you condemn him to Hades.”
A muscle twitched in his cheek. “I will do my best to remain civil. Will that satisfy you?”
“I suppose it will have to.” Margaret resigned herself to the prospect of Dr. McNeil being forcibly ejected from the hall by her husband.
They entered the drawing room together, and the conversation ceased.
Frederica smiled at them. “How was Phoebe? Dr. McNeil said she was having a good day today. Was she able to speak to you?”
“Indeed.” Alistair bowed. “It was a pleasure to see her again.” He redirected his att
ention to the doctor, who was looking remarkably apprehensive. “Perhaps you might further explain her condition and the remedies you are employing to make her better?”
Margaret sat down beside Frederica, but her husband took up position on the hearthrug so that he could best stare down at the poor doctor.
“I… have consulted with several colleagues, and we are at a loss to decide what ails your sister.” Dr. McNeil frowned. “Her stomach is weak and averse to many foods. When I bleed her, she sinks even further into lethargy.”
“Have you taken her to London to see a specialist?” Alistair asked.
Dr. McNeil shot a quick glance at Lady Hellion, who was looking very concerned. “Her ladyship and I feared that making such a journey might weaken Miss Phoebe too much.”
“Then have you written to anyone in London to ask for their assistance?” Alistair looked at his stepmother. “You certainly have the funds to employ the best.”
Lady Hellion sighed. “Oh, Alistair, how like you to make this about money, when it is your sister’s life that we seek to save!” She dashed away a tear. “I know you have never forgiven me for your father’s decision to leave the financial matters of this estate in my hands, but please can you stop being so petty?”
“I am hardly—” Alistair started speaking.
Margaret hastened to intervene before Lady Hellion managed to send Alistair off on an unnecessary tangent. “We are planning on traveling onward to London when we leave here. We can take Phoebe with us, and I can care for her on the journey.”
All three of the occupants in the room turned to stare at her with varying degrees of consternation. Her husband was the first to recover his composure.
“What an admirable thought, my dear!” He turned to Dr. McNeil. “Perhaps you might care to accompany us to ensure my sister’s wellbeing?”
“I—” Dr. McNeil opened and shut his mouth and turned to Lady Hellion. “What do you think, my lady?”
She bit her lip. “I think that his grace is willing to put his sister’s life in danger just to score a spiteful point off me.”
“Hardly,” Alistair said. “I was not aware that you had acquired the knowledge and skills of a physician in my absence, my lady. If not, I would prefer to hear what Dr. McNeil has to say. Would my sister seriously be imperiled by such a journey?”
“If she was well taken care of and thoroughly monitored, then probably not,” Dr. McNeil answered slowly.
“I am deeply saddened, Alistair.” Lady Hellion applied her handkerchief to her eyes. “You are speaking of the girl I have practically raised as my own, and yet you offer me no say in her welfare?”
“I am her guardian,” Alistair said. “My father, at least, made that clear. The only reason Phoebe has remained in your care for so long is that I didn’t have anyone female to chaperone her.” He bowed to Margaret. “Now I do, and, if Phoebe wishes to live with us, then I will not stop her.”
“And what am I supposed to do?” Lady Hellion screwed her handkerchief up in her fist. “When you deprive me of my last duty to your father?”
Alistair shrugged. “With all due respect, my lady, we are discussing my sister. I am more than willing to discuss your future in private, and not in front of the family doctor.”
“Then as you have all decided to ignore me, I will remain silent,” Lady Hellion said stiffly, her gaze on Dr. McNeil who was blushing intensely. “All I will say, your grace, is that if harm comes to that girl because of your ill-advised decisions, then it will be on your conscience and not mine.”
Alistair bowed. “Indeed.” He glanced over at Dr. McNeil. “Perhaps I might accompany you to your gig?”
“Yes, of course.” Dr. McNeil grabbed his bag and bowed to the two ladies. “I will see you tomorrow, your grace, my lady.”
Lady Hellion tossed her head and didn’t reply, leaving Margaret to murmur something conventional.
Silence fell after the two men left the room, and Margaret made no effort to break it.
“Are you not worried about your husband’s current actions?” Eventually, Frederica spoke. “Does it not seem that in his need to hurt me, Alistair might inadvertently hurt his sister?”
“Alistair only wishes what is best for Phoebe.” Margaret turned her calmest gaze on Frederica. “Taking her to London, and ensuring that she gets the best treatment possible, is hardly the action of a man out for revenge.”
“You obviously don’t know him as well as you think you do,” Lady Hellion replied, her voice rising. “He hates me so much that he would do anything to destroy me.”
“With all due respect, my lady, you seem somewhat overwrought,” Margaret said sweetly. “Perhaps you should lie down?”
Her companion rose slowly to her feet. “Alistair and I grew up together, did you know that? My father was the curate at the local church.”
Margaret said nothing and concentrated on looking composed even as her stomach was tightening.
“So don’t ever think you know him better than I do.” Frederica pressed a hand to her heart. “He was always mine. That’s why he hated me for marrying his father. That’s why he can’t forgive and forget.”
She nodded at Margaret. “He may spin you any tale he wishes to protest his innocence, but, as they say, you never forget your first love.”
She stormed out of the room, leaving Margaret with much to think about. Despite her suspicions, Frederica’s words rang true, but what to make of them, and how did they affect the current situation? Alistair’s attitude toward Lilly, who had expected to be the next duchess, had held none of the rage he apparently felt for his father’s wife. Why was he so passionate about the one and not the other? She suspected she knew the answer but was unwilling to face it.
Margaret rose to her feet and walked out into the corridor with no real sense of where she wanted to go—except that she wasn’t quite ready to face the keen gaze of her husband. He would use his wiles to extract her concerns from her, and then what? Would he deny Frederica’s accusations? Would he laugh at her? And what if he didn’t? What if his stepmother truly had been his first love, and he hadn’t even bothered to mention it?
Chapter 12
“Dr. McNeil will travel with us on the first stage to London and stay overnight at the inn to watch Phoebe,” Alistair said as he shrugged into his coat, one eye on his wife who was still sitting up in bed staring into space. “Don’t worry, I’ll make him ride alongside the carriage, so that we don’t have to deal with his presence.”
“When do you plan to leave?” Margaret asked.
“Tomorrow, as long as Phoebe is well enough to travel.” Alistair settled his coat on his shoulders, and transferred his belongings from the dressing table to his pockets. “If that is acceptable to you, of course.”
“I certainly have no wish to stay here.” Her smile was a little reserved. “And my opinion is hardly relevant in the matter of your sister’s health and wellness.”
He paused and turned fully back toward the bed. “Is everything all right?”
“Why should it not be?”
“That isn’t an answer.” He frowned. “Are you annoyed at my highhandedness? It was your idea to take Phoebe with us to London.”
“I am aware of that.” She started undoing her braid and threw back the covers. “If we are leaving tomorrow, I will have to ask Eileen and Clarkson to start packing as soon as possible.”
“Margaret…”
She looked over at him. “What?”
“I am aware that something is troubling you, but I will admit that I am so consumed with getting my sister away from that woman that I do not have time to coax answers from you.” He paused, but she didn’t speak. “If there is anything you wish to say that cannot wait, please speak up, and I will do my best to accommodate you.”
In truth, there was something about his sister’s current condition that worried him greatly. He wouldn’t be happy until he had consulted an old army surgeon friend of his who lived in London, and could hope
fully lay his suspicions to rest.
“I—appreciate your concern.” Margaret paused by her dressing table. Her hair covered her face, making it impossible for him to read her expression. “Anything I have to say can wait until we are away from this house.”
“Good.” He kissed her briefly on the cheek. “I appreciate that. Are you coming down to breakfast?”
“Yes, I will join you after I have spoken to Eileen.”
Alistair left the room and went down the stairs toward the breakfast room where he discovered his stepmother eating toast and reading her morning correspondence.
“You’re up early.” Alistair helped himself from the array of dishes on the sideboard, wondering again why his stepmother needed such a large amount of food. “Did you visit Phoebe? She seems a lot better today.”
“I believe that is because she is pleased you are here.” Frederica poured them both some coffee. “When do you plan to leave?”
“Tomorrow.” Alistair cut into the succulent ham. “If you wish, I will write and let you know how Phoebe is doing.”
She sniffed. “You will not.”
“Whatever I might think of you, my lady, I am well aware that you have given my sister a home and have cared for her in the past five years.” He buttered his toast. “While I am in London, perhaps you might give some thought as to where you wish to live if Phoebe decides to stay with us?”
She put down her cup, her nose wrinkling. “What do you mean?”
“As I will be attending the House of Lords on a more regular basis, I think this house will become a good place for my family to reside when we are able to leave London, but are unable to travel all the way up north.”
“This house was left to me for the remainder of my lifetime.”
Alistair sighed. “I hate to mention it, but all the property of the marquisette is now part of the dukedom, and its disposition is again at my discretion.”
She set down her spoon with a clatter. “You cannot throw me out!”
“I believe I can, but, rest assured, I have no intention of doing so, or leaving you penniless. I am offering you the opportunity to move to a smaller residence, even somewhere on this estate—there is a dower house—because I require this property for my own use.”
