Why should she need to explain her presence here? He would rather have her here than anyone else. But they had quarrelled and she would not know that. He must tell her.
‘I know it is not ideal,’ she went on, not meeting his eyes. ‘I am sorry if my presence distresses you. I shall leave as soon as Robbins can manage on his own.’
No, he did not want her to leave. Randall struggled. The words were in his head, but he could not yet command his voice. He frowned, concentrating hard in an effort to speak, but when Mary glanced at his face she misunderstood his scowl and thought he did not want her there.
‘I will send Robbins in,’ she said hurriedly.
Randall wanted to protest, to shake his head, to reach out, but he could do none of these things. It was all too much effort and he found himself sinking once more into the deep, warm pit of oblivion.
* * *
Mary hurried out of the room, blinking rapidly. What had she expected? He had told her quite plainly he did not back down, did not apologise. Yet she had hoped he would be pleased to see her. Perhaps it was not just the sword. Perhaps he truly believed the other accusations he had thrown at her, that she had schemed to marry him, that she wanted him for his fortune and his title. After all, he had been hurt before.
Summoning all her strength, she went in search of Robbins and asked him to attend to Lord Randall, who had at last opened his eyes, then she returned to the sitting room and allowed herself the luxury of shedding a few hot tears.
She looked up as Robbins came into the room.
‘He is sleeping again now, miss.’ He gave her a reassuring smile. ‘He seems pretty comfortable.’
‘I wonder if we should find someone else to look after him with you.’ Mary got to her feet, clasping her hands tightly in front of her. ‘He did not look at all pleased to see me here.’
‘He’s not himself, miss.’
She shook her head. ‘If you had seen his look—’ She broke off, unable to trust herself to say more without more tears.
‘Looking black, was he? Oh, I’ve seen that, miss, often and often,’ replied Robbins in a comfortable tone. ‘He has a way with him that makes grown men shake in their boots, but it don’t mean anything.’
‘He accused me of taking his sword.’
‘Did he now? Yet he was wearing it when you found him, wasn’t he?’
‘Yes.’
‘Then he must know the truth now, miss. He must know you didn’t take it.’
‘But it wasn’t just that.’ She hesitated. ‘He thinks me a fortune hunter.’
‘I’ve never had you down as that, miss, and I don’t think his lordship really believes it, either, whatever he might have said in the heat of the moment. He’s had enough caps set at him over the years to know the difference.’
She tried to smile.
‘You make it sound so simple, Robbins.’
‘It is simple, Miss Endacott. His lordship ain’t a great one with words, but if he’s wronged you he’ll be as sorry as he can be. Only you must give him time to tell you so, in his own way.’
‘But if he doesn’t want me here—’
‘If you will excuse me for saying so,’ he interrupted her, ‘Lord Randall is in no position to know what is best for him at the moment. Besides, where am I going to find another nurse to look after him as you do? The whole of Brussels is like one big hospital now. They are even nursing the wounded on the streets.’
‘That is true, I suppose.’
‘Of course it is. Now you go back in and sit with his lordship and I’ll brew a dish of tea for you. I managed to buy some black bohea when I went out this morning.’
‘Especially for me? Oh, how kind—thank you, Robbins.’
The manservant flushed a little and shifted uncomfortably.
‘Aye, well, it is for you, because his lordship would never drink such stuff.’
‘Well, perhaps he will do so now,’ returned Mary, smiling. ‘It might be quite beneficial to his recovery.’
She went back into the bedroom, comforted by the manservant’s support.
* * *
When Randall opened his eyes again he found Mary sitting beside his bed.
‘So you are awake at last, my lord.’
‘How long have I been here?’ Every breath was painful and his voice seemed to be little more than a thread.
‘We fetched you from Waterloo yesterday.’
‘We?’
‘Why, yes, sir. Sergeant Hollins and some of your men came to the schoolhouse yesterday, looking for you.’
A delicate colour tinted her cheeks and she wouldn’t meet his eyes when she explained this. He cursed silently. So even the Rogues believed she was his mistress. How could he have been so irresponsible?
‘You went to the village, to Waterloo?’
‘We found you on the battlefield.’
The information made his blood run cold.
‘I would not have had you see it, Mary.’
Her shoulders lifted slightly.
‘We found you, that is all that matters.’
‘My indomitable Mary.’ The flush on her smooth cheek deepened. He reached out for her, but she rose quickly, ignoring his hand as she straightened the sheets. Did she think he was still angry with her? ‘Mary, we must talk.’
‘Not yet, my lord. There will be time for that when you are better.’ She raised her head as voices sounded from outside the door. ‘Lieutenant Foster is here to see you.’
* * *
Mary hurried from the bedroom, thankful to put off the tête-à-tête a little longer. She did not want to hear what he had to say; she had made her decision, it was the only solution and she would not allow him to talk her out of it. She would not admit to herself how much it would hurt if he did not even try.
Chapter Thirteen
The brigade surgeon appeared quite satisfied and when he saw Mary in the sitting room he told her that rest was all the earl needed now.
‘His lordship is already sleeping,’ said Robbins when Lieutenant Foster had left. ‘I’ll watch him now, miss, and you can get some rest.’
But Mary was too on edge to lie down. She had asked for her embroidery and her writing box to be sent over from the schoolhouse, but plying a needle left her far too much time to think, so instead she went through her correspondence. There were several letters from parents of her pupils, giving notice that they would not be sending their children to the academy again. They had obviously been sent before they had received her own letter, telling them that she was closing the school. None of them gave a reason, but it was quite clear from their tone that they had heard she was the mistress of an English milord. There was also a note from Lady Sarah that required an answer. It would be difficult to respond. Mary knew she should be thankful that Sarah was safely back in Brussels, but she could not help thinking that if Sarah had not persuaded her to go to the ball, Randall might never have said such wounding things.
Quickly, she pushed aside that thought. He would still have thought her a thief and a fortune hunter even if he had not had the opportunity to accuse her to her face. That is what hurt most, that Randall should be so quick to condemn her. She could not forgive him for his lack of trust. Perhaps she had been too hasty in putting aside her own principles when he had suggested marriage. He was still an earl, a member of the nobility whom she despised. Even love could not change that. She just managed to wipe away a tear before it splashed on to the paper. She did not want anyone, especially Lady Sarah, to know of her distress.
* * *
Thankfully she had quite recovered her composure by the time Major Flint barged in some time later and she stoutly refused to give him more than five minutes with his colonel. He looked shocked at his half-brother’s appearance, but at least that prevente
d him from asking her too many questions about her presence there. Not that it mattered. Her reputation was in tatters.
Randall slept so much that it was a simple matter for Mary to avoid being with him when he was awake. It was necessary for her to help Robbins to wash the earl and ease him into a clean nightshirt, but she scurried away as soon as she could, determined not to be alone with him.
* * *
She managed to get some sleep in the early evening, ready to relieve Robbins at midnight, but when she went into the earl’s room she found him awake. He stared at her with sombre intensity.
‘I believe you have been avoiding me.’ He spoke quietly, so unlike his normal, brusque tone that she felt the tears sting her eyes again.
‘No, my lord, I—’
‘Don’t lie to me.’ His voice was weak, but she discovered it had lost none of its power to command.
‘Very well,’ she said. ‘Yes. I have been avoiding you.’
‘I know now that you did not take the Latymor sword.’ His fingers plucked at the bedcovers. ‘It was unforgivable of me to accuse you.’
‘Yes.’
‘What can I do to make it up to you?’
‘Nothing, my lord.’
‘Mary—’
‘Please, my lord, there is no need for you to say anything else.’ She sat down beside his bed and folded her hands in her lap. ‘I wanted to put off this until you were stronger, but perhaps it is best if we discuss it now.’
‘You mean while I am too weak to argue with you?’
His flash of humour stabbed at her, but it did not shake her resolve. She continued in a calm and measured tone.
‘I am closing the school and leaving Brussels. It is impossible for me to stay here.’
He closed his eyes, a shadow of pain flickering across his face.
‘That is my doing,’ he said. ‘Mary, let me make it right. My hand—and my heart—are yours. Nothing has changed.’
‘Everything has changed. I know now it would never work.’
There, she had said it.
His eyes were on her face again. ‘Go on.’
She met his glance steadily.
‘I cannot marry you, Randall. It was always an impossible dream, an earl and the daughter of a radical. I was too quick to jump at your proposal and did not think it through. You are a peer of the realm, an ancient order that I cannot support. You are also a soldier and I am opposed to war.’
‘I am well aware of our differences, Mary, but they are not insurmountable—’
‘That is not all,’ she interrupted him. ‘Can you not see what has hurt me most of all? Your lack of trust. You thought I would steal your sword to keep you by my side. You did not question it; you did not come and ask me if I had taken it. You assumed I would stoop to such a trick. That I was selfish enough to put my own desires before everything that you hold dear.’
‘It was wrong of me, I admit it, but will you not give me a chance to put it right?’
‘It cannot be done.’
‘You are certain of that? You have appointed yourself judge and jury and have decided there can be no possibility of our finding happiness together?’
Misery welled up inside her, clogging her throat. She could only shake her head. The silence pressed around them and for Mary it was filled with unshed tears, unspoken words and unuttered, anguished cries.
‘Where will you go?’ he asked at last.
Her wretchedness deepened. He, too, knew it was over and did not attempt to argue.
‘I do not know yet.’
‘Will you tell me, once you have decided?’
‘I think not.’
She wondered if he would press her, make one last attempt to persuade her to stay, but there was a knock at the door and Robbins looked in.
‘It is time for my lord’s laudanum, miss, if you would like me to help you?’
‘Yes, yes, please, Robbins.’
She let the manservant lift Randall’s shoulders while she held the cup to his lips, but all the time the earl’s blue eyes were on her, peering into her soul, seeing the anguish deep inside. When they were alone again he spoke, so quietly she had to lean closer to hear him.
‘I want you to be happy, Mary.’
‘And I you, my lord.’
His hand caught hers, his grip surprisingly strong.
‘When will you leave?’
‘As soon as Robbins no longer needs me to help nurse you. Tomorrow, perhaps. Lieutenant Foster says you are mending well.’
‘Yes, he told me that. Since I have no fever he thinks I may live comfortably with this musket ball in my chest.’ He lay back on the pillows, watching her. ‘But I cannot live comfortably without you, Mary.’
His eyelids begin to droop. The laudanum was taking effect.
She said softly, ‘You will learn to do so, my lord.’
His eyes closed and the grip on her hand went slack.
‘You will learn to do so,’ she whispered again, pulling her fingers free. ‘And so shall I.’
* * *
By the following morning Randall was showing a marked improvement. When Mary carried his breakfast into the room she found him propped against a bank of pillows. Robbins had just finished shaving him and he looked so much like his old self that her heart turned over, first soaring with love for him before it plummeted down into the depths of despair. He no longer needed her to nurse him, she must go. It was with the greatest difficulty that she kept her tears at bay and greeted him with a cheerful good morning.
‘You are looking much better today,’ she remarked, putting the tray down across his knees.
‘I do not feel it.’ He paused until Robbins had gone out and closed the door. ‘You are determined to leave me?’
‘Yes, Lieutenant Foster says you are out of danger.’
‘Mary.’ He caught her wrist. ‘I told you once I am no good with soft words, but please, stay and talk to me.’
She stiffened, staring at his hand until, reluctantly, he released her.
‘There is nothing to say, my lord.’
‘But there is. You must listen to me.’
‘Must?’ She bridled instantly. ‘I am not one of your minions, Lord Randall. There is nothing I must do where you are concerned.’
‘Then let me plead. I beg you to listen to me.’
‘No!’ She put her hands to her temples. ‘I have made up my mind. We cannot make each other happy. Our worlds are too different, my lord. It is best we part now.’
‘I do not believe that,’ he exclaimed. ‘I will never believe it. Beneath it all we are a man and a woman, Mary. We are in love. There has to be a way.’
She gave a little sob. ‘Oh, why must you make this so difficult?’
‘Because it has taken me thirty years to find you, Mary Endacott. I do not intend to let you slip away so easily.’
Not trusting herself to reply, she hurried out of the room. Robbins was waiting in the sitting room and he gave her a searching look. Fearing he might ask her questions that would make her cry, Mary spoke quickly.
‘When is Lieutenant Foster calling?’
‘Noon, miss. Plenty of time for you to get some sleep and I’ll wake you when he comes. Not that I think he will find anything wrong with his lordship now. Looking very much more his old self this morning, I thought.’
‘Yes, he is, Robbins. So you will not be needing my help any more, will you?’
‘Well, as to that, miss...’
She gave him her brightest smile. ‘I am sure I can be of more use back at the schoolhouse now. I shall collect up my things, and as soon as the lieutenant has confirmed Lord Randall is recovering well I shall remove myself. I have no doubt you will be relieved not to have me fussing around you.’
‘I shouldn’t say that, Miss Endacott. I couldn’t have managed without you and that’s a fact.’
This unexpected praise from the taciturn manservant made Mary’s heart ache even more and, muttering her excuses, she went to her room. It did not take her long to pack her bag and afterwards she lay down on the narrow bed. It would break her heart to leave Randall, but it must be done. His treatment of her at the ball had shown her just how far apart they were. He had blamed her for the loss of his sword and for leading his sister astray. She was innocent on both counts. Robbins had told her the thief was his own brother and as for Lady Sarah, Mary did not think she had ever held any influence over her at all. And what Randall would say if he found out Sarah had accompanied her to the battlefield she did not like to think.
Mary turned on to her side and curled into a ball. Really, with the exception of Harriett every member of the Latymor family was arrogant and overbearing. She would never find happiness with them; she had been foolish to ever think she might. But it did not stop her shedding a few more tears into her already damp pillow before she eventually fell asleep.
* * *
She awoke some hours later to the sounds of commotion. She sat up quickly, rubbing her eyes. Surely that was not Randall’s voice she could hear, raised in anger? Shaking out her skirts, she went to her door and opened it, in time to see a flash of uniform and hear the clatter of boots on the wooden stair. When she entered the earl’s apartment she found Robbins coming out of the bedchamber, his face even more sombre than usual.
‘Was that Major Flint I saw leaving?’
Robbins carefully closed the door behind him.
‘Aye, it was, miss. Came to tell his lordship about his sister.’
‘Lady Sarah?’
‘Aye, miss. It seems she’s, er, taken up with Major Bartlett and his lordship ain’t happy about it at all. In a rage, he is, shouting about court martials. It was as much as we could do to keep the master from getting out of bed and going after her, there and then.’
A sudden roar was heard from the bedroom.
‘He wants pen and ink, miss,’ Robbins explained. ‘To write to Lady Sarah.’
A Lady for Lord Randall Page 22
