Midnight My Love

by Anne Marie Novark

  Jenny laughed as she sat on the sofa. "Your aunt is a dear soul. She was quite overcome thinking you might be compromised by Rochdale. She teetered between anxiety over your virtue and the delightful prospect of quacking Robert."

  Carriage wheels sounded on the gravel drive outside, and Alexandra rushed to the window. "Oh, thank God. It's the doctor at last! I must take him to see Robert." She bent to give Jenny a quick hug. "Your chamber has been aired and is standing ready. Ring for tea and make yourself at home. But I have no need to tell you that, of course."

  "Don't worry about me, dearest. Go tend to Robert. We can talk later." Jenny smiled tremulously up at her. "And Alex . . . I wish to help any way I can."

  ****

  Damien sat at the workbench in the observatory and busily pored over Alexandra's journals. He read and re-read some of the entries and was amazed at the thoroughness of the research. Alexandra was a talented astronomer in her own right. Her dedication to her father's theory was incredible.

  An unusual woman, he thought--unlike any he had ever known. He would have to tread carefully during his stay at Willowmede. He'd been caught off guard this morning. The feel of her skin as he held her chin, the rush of desire coursing through his body. Damn it! He refused to succumb to the hunger raging inside of him. He would suppress these foolish emotions and stay in control of the situation.

  Yes, control was the key here. If he gave in to his base desires, he would be no better off than his father had been. Never would he be at the mercy of a beautiful woman.

  Damien resumed his study of the planetary charts. A knock on the door made him look up expectantly. "Enter!" he said.

  A young footman entered and cleared his throat. "Miss Turlington asks for the favor of your presence in the library, m'lord. The doctor has arrived and Miss needs to consult with you about Lord Turlington's condition."

  Damien nodded. "Very well. Tell your mistress I'll be there shortly."

  After the footman left, Damien placed the journal on top of a neat pile. He rose and quickly glanced around the room to make sure everything was in place. When Robert was better, he thought he might assist Alexandra in her studies. He intended to exorcise his physical yearnings for Robert's sister, and saw no reason why he couldn't help with her research. He had some interesting points to share with her in regards to the George.

  As Damien entered the library, he found Alexandra seated on the sofa, listening intently to the physician. She looked up and smiled. Was that relief in her eyes?

  "Rochdale!" she exclaimed. "This is Dr. Heron. He wants to ask you some questions. I told him Robert was at your town house for several days before you brought him home, and you had a London physician examine him. But I don't recall if you mentioned his name. Dr. Heron wants to know who examined him and what his prognosis was."

  Damien shook hands with the doctor and took a seat near Alex. "I called Montague in," he said, stretching his long legs before him. When Dr. Heron nodded his approval, he continued, "Montague said Robert needed careful nursing and sent an attendant to monitor his progress. After a week, Rob was better and anxious to start home. With the doctor's permission, we set out for Willowmede. We traveled by easy stages, stopping frequently to rest and refresh ourselves."

  Damien glanced at Alexandra, who was attending closely. He looked at the doctor again. "Montague warned me to keep a careful eye on Robert. He said something about depression and suicidal tendencies in amputees. I'm concerned about Rob. He sorely feels his loss and is worried about his fiancée," he finished tersely.

  Dr. Heron cleared his throat and frowned. "From my examination of his lordship, I'd say he is suffering severe depression." When Alexandra gasped, he hurried on. "This is understandable in such a situation. Lord Turlington lost a substantial amount of blood and lay in an army hospital for months. He endured a rough crossing, from what I understand, and the journey to Willowmede took its toll. Now that he's settled, he should regain his customary good health. Once he recovers, he will be better able to accept his disability. I've known Lord Turlington from the cradle, and I have every confidence he can overcome this devastating handicap. Surrounded by those who love and support him, he's sure to make a complete recovery."

  The doctor prepared to take his leave. "Our first priority is to get his lordship on his feet again. Unfortunately, I fear fever is setting in. He will need constant supervision day and night. I've left fever powders to be administered every four hours. I'm afraid he's likely to worsen before the fever finally breaks. I'll check on him tomorrow afternoon. I can send a nurse over if you like." He looked questioningly at Alexandra.

  She shook her head. "Robert's been surrounded by strangers for too long. I think we can manage. How long do you think the fever will last?"

  "I can't say exactly, but I'd estimate three days or so. It will get worse before it gets better. From the looks of him, I'd say tonight will tell the tale. Give him the cinchona bark to reduce the fever. Make him drink plenty of clear liquids and he'll do. Good luck, Miss Alex." He inclined his head toward Rochdale. "A pleasure, my lord. Now, don't bother to show me out," he said good naturedly, "I know my way."

  Damien watched as Alexandra took a turn about the room. She went to the escritoire to get a pen and paper, then resumed her seat. He knew she was distressed about Robert. He wanted to help relieve her anxiety and ease her burden.

  "I'll take the midnight watch," he said brusquely. "I never go to bed before dawn. I'll watch over Rob during the night."

  Alexandra turned grateful eyes toward him. Damien remembered those green eyes smoldering with passion. He stood abruptly. "If you need me before then, I'll be in the observatory." He walked quickly to the door.

  "What about dinner?" Alexandra called after him.

  Damien stopped and looked back. "Don't stand on ceremony with me, Miss Turlington. While Robert's so ill, there's no need for formal meals. Send me up a couple of sandwiches and some ale. That will suffice." Resisting the impulse to stay, he made his way to the observatory thinking that Alex looked as if he were abandoning her. Squaring his shoulders, Damien decided he didn't care.

  ****

  Alex sat in her brother's dimly lit room and anxiously watched as he tossed restlessly beneath the covers. The clock on the mantel showed a quarter to twelve. She knew Rochdale would come shortly to relieve her. He would help administer the next dose of medicine, then maybe she could go lie down awhile.

  Robert's fever had grown steadily higher; the Peruvian bark the doctor prescribed had proven ineffective. Alex bathed her brother's forehead with a cloth soaked in lavender-water. She tried to coax him to sip some of the barley water Cook had sent up.

  As the fever climbed, Robert became more agitated. He dozed fitfully, kicking the sheets away and mumbling deliriously. When he did awaken, he stared unseeingly at Alexandra. Time and again, she bathed his fevered cheeks and turned his pillows for him. He would rest quietly for a short while, only to start tossing and turning again.

  When Rochdale knocked on the door at midnight, Alexandra felt she'd been in the sickroom for days. She gladly greeted the viscount as he came toward the bed.

  Rochdale looked down at Robert, then at Alexandra. "You've had a rough time of it, I see," he said quietly.

  "Yes, his fever is mounting." She replaced the cloth on Robert's forehead with a fresh one, glad to turn away. It would never do to let Rochdale know the relief she felt when he walked into the room. "I hope it breaks in a few hours. Perhaps I should stay," she said, shoving her hair off her forehead.

  When he didn't answer, Alex looked up. Rochdale was watching her with brooding eyes. The candlelight mellowed his sharp features and she thought him extremely attractive. Against her will, she felt an overwhelming desire to feel his arms around her again in a strong embrace. She wanted to lean her head on his shoulder and share the burdens crushing down on her.

  Alex turned to the nightstand and began preparing Robert's medicine. She must be extremely tired to be feeling such
nonsensical things. Rochdale had no interest in her. He didn't even want to be friends. None of it mattered, any way. She was going to marry Carlisle, after all.

  Rochdale walked over to where Alex was mixing the dose of medicine. Her hand trembled and she spilled some of the laudanum she was measuring. Why did he stand so close?

  His hard body brushed against her as he reached for the draft causing her stomach to flutter and her breasts to ache. She glanced up into the golden-brown eyes, then quickly turned toward the bed before the treacherous sensations made her do something stupid like beg him to hold her, comfort her, kiss her.

  Goodness. She was more tired than she realized.

  "I'll lift Robert's head and you give him the laudanum," she said softly.

  Rochdale nodded curtly. When the medicine was administered, she plumped the pillows and tucked the sheet under her brother's chin. "Maybe he'll be able to rest now," Alex said. Avoiding Rochdale's intensive gaze, she sat in the wing chair near the fireplace.

  The viscount came toward her. She trembled, thinking he looked like a panther stalking its prey. The bedroom was dark; Robert was asleep; she was alone with Rochdale.

  He grasped Alexandra's hands and pulled her to her feet. With his hand on the small of her back, he guided her toward the door. "You, my dear, are going straight to bed."

  She tried to halt their progress, but the strong hand pushed her out into the hall. "I can't leave Robert while he's still so feverish," she protested.

  "You can and you will," Rochdale said firmly. "We agreed to divide the watches, Miss Turlington. You won't be worth half a groat if you stay up all night." He looked down at her with a smile--half devilish, half tender. "Go to bed and don't worry about Robert. I promise to wake you if he worsens." He closed the door in her face and Alex made her way to her bedchamber. Would she ever understand Rochdale?

  CHAPTER FIVE

  It was midmorning by the time Damien crossed the black and white tiled foyer in the front hallway, making his way to the library. He had spent a long night, keeping watch over Robert. The fever finally broke around six and the patient was now sleeping soundly.

  Damien had discarded his jacket and cravat during the night. His shirt was badly wrinkled and he was in need of a shave. He had just finished a substantial breakfast; now he would retire to bed. He wanted something to read to help lull him to sleep.

  The knocker sounded on the front door. Damien looked around expecting to see the butler or a footman answer the summons. He reached the library door and the knocker sounded again. He paused, but no one came. Shrugging his shoulders, he decided to answer the door himself.

  Sir Howard Carlisle stood on the threshold. He held a basket of lemons and oranges in one hand and a bouquet of pink roses in the other. The squire's mouth dropped when he saw who had answered the door. "Rochdale!" he ejaculated. "What are you doing here!" Carlisle's cheeks flushed in annoyance.

  Damien smiled as he considered the basket and flowers. "I'm staying here, Carlisle," he said smoothly. "What are you doing here, old fellow?"

  "I've come to see how Turlington goes on, of course," Sir Howard said. "Why are you answering the door, my lord? Where is Sterling?" He tried to look past the viscount.

  Damien opened the door wider to admit the visitor. The squire stood in the hallway and stared at the viscount's shirt. Damien bowed. "You must excuse my state of undress, Carlisle. It's been a long night. I see you've brought some fruit for our invalid. Very thoughtful. Are the roses also for Robert?"

  "No, no. The flowers are for Miss Turlington, my lord. You must know Miss Turlington and I . . ." Carlisle stopped, his eyes widening as he glanced toward the stairs.

  Damien turned. Alexandra came down the staircase, looking delightfully sleep-flushed. She wore an emerald green dressing gown and her long chestnut hair tumbled around her shoulders. As if it were yesterday, he could still remember the feel of that glorious hair entwined in his fingers. He thought she had never appeared more desirable.

  Alexandra stopped midway down the stairs when she saw Carlisle. Damien watched as she drew her wrapper close and pushed her hair back behind her shoulders.

  "Carlisle!" she exclaimed. "You're up and about early, I see." She started down the stairs again. "Rochdale, Robert is awake and asking for you. I know you are about to retire, but would you please come with me and see what he wants? He won't tell me for some reason."

  Damien met her at the bottom of the stairs, taking her hands in his. "Yes, of course, my love. But don't you think you should dress first?" He grinned as her eyes grew round.

  Carlisle stepped forward hastily. "Unhand the lady, Rochdale. Miss Turlington is as good as betrothed to me. Unhand her I say, or name your seconds!"

  "Certainly, Carlisle. I'd be happy to meet you anytime, any place you choose," Damien purred. He regarded his opponent with menacing eyes.

  A shriek from the top of the stairs broke the terrible tableau. "Alexandra Turlington! Why are you standing there in dishabille in front of two men?" Aunt Haygood stared in horror at her niece. "I knew it! I knew you wouldn't be safe with him in the house," she moaned, clutching the tray she was carrying with such force the tea service rattled.

  "Come upstairs immediately and clothe yourself properly!" Miss Haygood commanded. "As if I don't have enough to worry about with an invalid in the house. I made this Willow-bark tea especially for dear Robert. Has his fever broken? Oh, dear! Oh, dear! I feel my lumbago starting up again!"

  Damien lifted Alexandra's hands to his lips, and placed a light kiss on each wrist. "Go get dressed," he said huskily, releasing her hands which were now bunched into fists. He smiled with wicked amusement and climbed the stairs two at a time. "Allow me to help you, Miss Haygood," he called.

  "Rochdale!" Carlisle cried. "You haven't heard the last of this. I demand satisfaction!"

  Damien took the tray from Miss Haygood and looked down at the irate squire. "I'd be delighted to give you your due, except I doubt Miss Turlington would wish blood shed on her account. After she is dressed, perhaps she will explain these extenuating circumstances to the best of her ability."

  Alex turned to follow Rochdale. "Carlisle," she called over her shoulder, "make yourself at home in the Blue Saloon. I'll be down as soon as possible." She started up the stairs.

  "Miss Turlington! Please!" Sir Howard exclaimed.

  "I won't be long," Alex said, pausing a moment to flash a quick smile at her suitor.

  She entered Robert's room without knocking. Rochdale was seated by her brother's bed talking quietly. Aunt Haygood had gone straight to her room.

  Both men turned to look at her. Robert was the first to speak. "Alex, you really should get dressed. It isn't proper for you to be in your dressing gown in front of Demon. You know what he is," he reminded his sister. "Everyone does." He managed a weak grin.

  Alexandra stood by the door, her eyes dangerously bright. "Yes, I do know what he is. Merely the most despicable man I've ever had the misfortune to encounter." She rounded on the viscount. "If I were a man, I'd call you out for the outrageous behavior you exhibited in the hall." Her voice was carefully controlled. "Carlisle is no match for you. He's good and kind and virtuous--"

  "Carlisle!" Robert interrupted. "What's he doing here?"

  Rochdale walked to the end of the bed. "I believe Carlisle is paying his addresses to your sister--if I haven't mistaken the matter?" His golden eyes flickered with amusement as he looked at Alexandra. "And if you were a man, my dear, we would not be having this foolish conversation." He turned to Robert. "You will be interested to know this is the second challenge I've received in the past half-hour. And I thought things would be devilishly slow here at Willowmede."

  Robert tried to sit up. "Go to bed, Demon. You're starting to ramble. Now, what's all this about Carlisle?" he said, turning toward his sister. "That strutting peacock cannot be seriously courting you?"

  "Carlisle is not a peacock," she said. "I shall marry the squire if I so choose! You have no say
in the matter, whatsoever." Opening the door with a jerk, Alex looked back at both men. "I'm glad I was able to provide you two this much needed diversion, especially since we're so dull here at Willowmede." Turning on her heel, she swept out of the room.

  She rang for her maid who helped her into a morning gown of pale peach muslin. Maggie gathered Alexandra's hair into a chignon, leaving wispy tendrils framing her face.

  After she finished dressing, Alex sat and stared at her image in the mirror. She was so angry she could spit. Would she ever understand Rochdale? Did she really want to? When she had met him at the bottom of the stairs, passion surged between them as he took her hands in his large warm grasp. The wicked gleam in his eyes and the sardonic tone he used with Carlisle told her he was only amusing himself.

  Now she had to face Carlisle. What would she say to him? What could she say?

  There was a light tap at her door. Jenny opened it halfway and peeked in. "Good, you're awake. Did you have a rough night with Robert? How is he? I thought I'd sit with him after I had a bite to eat." Her smile faded. "What's wrong, dearest? Surely Robert's not worse! Tell me he's not worse, Alex!"

  "No, no. Robert's better. Much better. In fact, I left him enjoying a private joke with Rochdale," Alex reassured her friend.

  "Then what is bothering you?" Jenny asked.

  "Carlisle is below stairs in the Blue Saloon. He's waiting for an explanation. He wants to know why Rochdale is on such intimate terms with me and he will probably demand an answer to his marriage proposal."

  Jenny laughed. "Rochdale and you? Where could Carlisle have gotten such an absurd notion?"

  "It could have been when Rochdale called me 'his love' and kissed my wrists," Alex replied.

  "Kissed your wrists?" Jenny sat on the bed. "Alex, you must tell me what has occurred this morning. Obviously, you've been downstairs already."

  "Unfortunately, yes," she said. "I checked on Robert and he wanted to speak to Rochdale. I was still in my wrapper, so I went to the stairs and there was Carlisle with fruit and flowers. Rochdale called me his love and kissed my wrists, and Carlisle demanded satisfaction. Rochdale enjoyed it all immensely, I assure you." She lowered her eyes, arranging her combs and brushes on the tabletop. "How could he have changed so much, Jenny? Whenever he used to tease and flirt with me, it was always done in fun. Now, it seems he almost hates me."