Never Envy an Earl

by Regina Scott

  Gregory straightened. “I’ll find them.”

  The doctor nodded. “I’ll write a receipt then. Lady Lilith, I suggest you accompany him. Women have a better affinity for such things.”

  An interesting supposition. Yvette would likely agree.

  Yvette, who was going to marry him. He must have spouted a grin, for Lilith was staring at him as if he’d lost his mind.

  She turned to the physician. “I would prefer to stay with my mother.”

  “Quite understandable,” he said in his soothing voice. “But you can do her the most good by bringing her what she needs to survive.”

  Lilith paled.

  “Has she a maid, a companion who could be trusted to watch over her?” he continued, glancing from Lilith to Gregory and back.

  Gregory met Lilith’s gaze. “Yvette.”

  She nodded. “Of course. I’ll speak to her.” She hurried out.

  The physician shut his medical case as if there was nothing more he could do. The sound was final, cutting off hope. He looked up with a polite smile. “Would you have a room where I could mix the tincture? One with water on hand would be best.”

  “The kitchen, then,” Gregory said.

  “I will need to work uninterrupted,” he advised, lifting the case. “Some of the ingredients lose their efficacy if not infused in a timely manner.”

  “I’ll ask the servants to remain in their rooms until you’ve finished,” Gregory told him.

  “Excellent. Shall we?”

  Yvette and Lilith entered then, and the physician strode out the door. Villers frowned at him as the fellow passed.

  Gregory closed the distance between himself and Yvette. “Did Lilith explain?”

  Yvette nodded. “I am to watch the countess while you procure medicine. Is there anything I can to do help her while we wait?”

  Lilith shook her head. “The physician said she is beyond our help.” She choked and bowed her head.

  Gregory put an arm around his sister, and Yvette touched her hand.

  “We will not fail her,” Yvette murmured. “Go. She and I will be waiting when you return.”

  By the fierce way she looked to the bed, he could almost believe it.

  He led Lilith from the room. Villers immediately enfolded her in his arms. “What can I do, beloved? How can I help?”

  Lilith rested her head on his shoulder. “We must find ingredients to make a tincture that might cure her. Will you accompany us?”

  “Of course, darling.” Murmuring words of encouragement, he started for the stairs, Gregory right behind. At least the fellow was being helpful. Gregory would have expected him to run at the least sign of trouble. Maybe Yvette was right, and this marriage to Lilith would be the making of him.

  Marbury met them at the front door. As the footman offered Lilith her bonnet, Marbury handed Gregory a list.

  “The ingredients Dr. Smythe requested, my lord,” he said. “I must say I haven’t heard of half of them.”

  Gregory scanned down the list, and despair gathered closer. “Neither have I.”

  Villers released Lilith long enough to glance at the list as well.

  “Is that Greek?” he asked with a frown.

  “What are we to do?” Lilith murmured, face bunching.

  Villers straightened. “Never fear, darling. These may look difficult to procure, but I know just who to ask to locate them. Come with me.”

  ~~~

  The room was silent after Gregory and Lilith left. Just as at Carrolton Park, a chair sat waiting for Yvette beside the bed. She would rather have paced, but the bed hangings could block her view of the countess. So, she sat on the chair and watched the ragged rise and fall of Lady Carrolton’s chest.

  “We have not always agreed, you and I,” she murmured. “Our wills are too strong. So, I ask you now to rely on that will. Fight this!”

  Lady Carrolton gasped in a long breath. Yvette leaned closer, but the lady’s eyes remained closed.

  “Can you hear me?”

  She waited but saw no change. She leaned back.

  “I will pretend you can. I am good at pretending. I pretended to support the New Order in France, pretended to serve my cousin, pretended I enjoyed the Emperor’s company, and pretended I was your companion. A short while ago I agreed to marry your son. I cannot decide whether what I feel is real or whether I simply became caught up in the role.”

  Lady Carrolton sighed.

  “I feel the same. He is a fine man, your son, despite his father. He is good and kind. Perhaps he would do better with an English rose than a French lily.” She laughed. “See? He even has me thinking about flowers.”

  The silence pressed the laughter from her. She stood and went to the wash basin to wring out another compress. The physician had apparently told Lilith nothing would help, but kindness could not hurt.

  She returned to the bed to find the countess watching her. The compress fell from her fingers, and she dropped to her knees beside the bed. “Lady Carrolton, do you know me?”

  “Miss French,” she murmured, eyes over bright. “I dreamed you were going to marry my son.”

  Yvette smiled at her. “And did this trouble you?”

  “Yes,” she said with some of her usual spirit.

  Yvette’s smile faded.

  “He isn’t good enough for you,” the countess complained.

  Yvette took her hand. “Non, ma chère comtesse. He is far too good. And you wouldn’t like a French daughter-in-law.”

  “It is tolerable,” she said. “Do you love him?”

  She had not told him, had barely admitted it to herself, but the answer was easy. “Yes.”

  Lady Carrolton smiled. “Then welcome to the family, my dear.”

  The door opened behind her. Yvette turned to see the physician framed in the opening. He stepped inside and shut the door. She had never looked closely at him until now, but, even before he pulled off those ridiculous spectacles, she knew.

  Cold washed over her. Releasing the countess’ hand, she climbed to her feet. “Claude.”

  “Dr. Smythe,” he corrected her, smiling as he moved closer. “Ah, I see our patient has not awakened. Pity.”

  Yvette glanced to the bed. Lady Carrolton’s eyes were closed, her cheeks pale. Had Yvette been the one dreaming? Was that why the woman had given her blessing to the marriage, because Yvette wanted it so badly? Was this her answer as to whether she should marry Gregory?

  Before she could marry him, she had to survive. She returned her gaze to her cousin. “Leave now, or I’ll scream.”

  “Scream, then. No one will hear you. The earl, his sister, and her beau are racing about London looking for unicorns. The staff is in their rooms high above us. I have taken care of the butler.”

  Marbury! She moved closer. “If you have harmed him…”

  He laughed. “You even fight for a servant? You embrace the Revolution’s notion of equality more than I do.” He sobered. “But that will not stop me from returning you to France to stand trial. A ship will stop tomorrow night near the home of your accomplice. We will meet it.”

  Yvette reached for her dagger, held it out in front of her. “Mais non, cousin. I will go nowhere with you.”

  “You will,” he said. “Because you care for these English, that old lady on the bed. You always cared too much, for all you tried to hide it. But you will follow me now. I know why she is ill. Surrender, and I will leave a note on how to cure her. Kill me, and she dies too.”

  Her hand was shaking. She may never have truly been the countess’ companion, but she could not see her harmed now. If there was a chance to save her, she must take it. Time enough once they were away from Gregory and his family to escape her cousin.

  She handed her cousin the dagger and followed him from the room.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  “Of course we’ll help,” Gussie Orwell said when Gregory, Lilith, and Villers called at the Orwell townhouse not far from Clarendon Square.

&nbs
p; “Whatever you need,” Lydia promised with a comforting smile to Lilith as they all sat in the cozy withdrawing room.

  Gregory drew in a breath. His muscles had been tight since the moment he’d heard of his mother’s illness. Now he was glad to surrender the physician’s list to the amateur apothecary.

  Lydia crowded close on the camel-backed sofa to read the ingredients as Gussie’s gaze scanned the page.

  “Aconite,” Gussie said. “Lady Agnes should have that. She swears by it for curing a headache. We can send someone to ask her.”

  “We might be able to find some bitter vetch growing in the hedgerows on the way to Kew Gardens,” Lydia suggested.

  Gussie nodded. “I have several of the other ingredients here in London. In large enough quantities, I believe.”

  Villers smiled. “I knew it. Thank you.”

  “You cannot know the hope you’ve given me,” Lilith said, dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief.

  Lydia was frowning. As Gussie continued to study the list, the little blonde glanced up at Gregory.

  “I don’t understand. We’ve tried many of these ingredients in Gussie’s formulation and found them to be ineffective for any healing purpose. Under the wrong circumstances, some might be considered poisons.”

  “Poison?” Lilith gasped, hand going to her throat.

  That made no sense. “Perhaps it’s the combination,” Gregory said, “or the portion of the plant used in the tincture.”

  “No,” Lydia insisted. “Look.” She took the paper from Gussie with one hand and pointed out the oddities with the other. “The acidity of the orange oil would counteract the nature of the hazelnut. I don’t know what your physician intends to make, but I doubt it would have much effect against any illness.”

  Heat flushed up him. “Another charlatan!”

  Gussie raised her head. “I beg your pardon!”

  “Not you, Gussie,” Lilith assured her. “Mother’s physician in Chessington proved unreliable. We had higher hopes for this one, especially since this time Mother is truly ill.”

  “Is she?” Lydia asked.

  “Now, see here, Lydia,” her brother put in. “Just because you dabble in science doesn’t mean you know anything about medicine. You aren’t a physician.”

  “I never claimed to be,” Lydia replied, her gentle smile turning harder. “But I’ve studied enough about plants and minerals with Gussie and by reading the scientific literature to know what they cure and what they don’t.” She turned to Lilith. “Can you describe your mother’s symptoms?”

  Lilith frowned at Gregory but went on to explain the situation, while Villers crossed his arms over his chest.

  Gregory shifted in his seat. If chasing after all these ingredients was a useless gesture, he had to return to the house, find someone who could help his mother, if such a person existed.

  “It very much sounds like an overdose of laudanum to me,” Lydia said, her usual sunny smile returning. “I’d give her syrup of ipecac. I have some in my room. It’s been useful as we experiment.”

  Gregory stared at her. Lilith and Villers were doing the same.

  “Laudanum?” Gregory asked.

  “Are you mad?” Lilith demanded. “My mother doesn’t dose herself with the stuff.”

  Lydia’s smile finally evaporated, but Gussie held up a hand. “She’s right, Lady Lilith. The symptoms could well have been brought on by the sedative. You said your last physician was a charlatan. Could he have prescribed it without your knowledge?”

  “It seems he prescribed a great many things,” Gregory said. “I removed all such medications from her personally.”

  “Then perhaps a servant intent on revenge slipped it into her tea,” Gussie suggested.

  Gregory shook himself. “No. Our family has no enemies.”

  Lilith grabbed his arm. “Of course we do. The person who spread rumors about my reputation.”

  Villers started. “Now, darling, I doubt she would go so far.”

  Lilith stiffened. “She?” She glared at Lydia.

  Villers’s sister threw up her hands. “I most certainly never said a word about anything to anyone. I’m not even sure what you’re talking about.”

  Villers shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. Dearest, think. You have someone far deadlier interested in your house. The Frenchman after Miss de Maupassant.”

  Gussie and Lydia hopped to their feet. “Of course!” Gussie cried.

  “It’s exactly the sort of thing a French agent would try,” Lydia agreed.

  Lilith scowled at Gregory. “Does anyone not know this secret?”

  Determination pushed him to his feet. “Ladies, thank you,” he said with a nod in their direction. “Villers, stay here with Lilith. I must return home. Yvette is in danger.”

  Villers nodded, but Gussie started for the door, skirts flapping. “Don’t be ridiculous. If Yvette is in danger, we intend to help. Cuddlestone!”

  A well-dressed little man with a head ringed by a fringe of white hair scurried to answer. “I’ll have your redingote down in a twinkle, madam. The carriage is being brought around. I only wish I’d thought to bring Sir Harry’s sword from the manor. How else might I be of assistance?”

  It seemed her butler listened at keyholes and was ready to serve. Gregory strode toward him. “Send word to Julian Mayes.”

  “Tell him to send as many men as possible,” Villers added, standing at Lilith’s side. “Trevithan and Laughton are on duty watching the house this morning, Carrolton. If you shout, they should come running.”

  “I don’t understand,” Lilith said. “Who are these men? Why are they watching our home?”

  Villers put an arm around her waist. “I’ll explain all, darling, but we must let your brother go.”

  “To do what?” Lilith begged.

  Gregory glanced back at her. “I intend to capture Claude de Maupassant before he does any more harm.”

  They all urged him to wait for the carriage, but nothing could have kept him away from Yvette another minute. He galloped out the door, leaving the Orwell butler with his mouth hanging open. Gregory’s legs ate up the pavement the short distance between the Orwell townhouse and his own. Ladies stared, and gentlemen dodged out of his way with cries of protest. Every moment he kept imagining the worst—his mother dead, Yvette taken beyond his reach to meet her own fate. She’d been alone so long, fighting the danger around her. How did she bear it? He could hardly think straight.

  But he must, if he was to save her.

  He paused on the front steps and shouted. “Trevithan, Laughton, if you can hear me, send for reinforcements.” He didn’t wait for a response. He burst into the house.

  And was struck by the awful silence.

  “Marbury!”

  No tall form moved to answer.

  Gregory scaled the stairs. He had no sword or pistol in the house, had never felt the need. At least his fists would suffice. For once, he was glad for his size; it meant he might be able to keep her safe.

  He ripped open the door to his mother’s room and skittered to a stop. His mother was sitting on the edge of the bed, swaying and obviously trying to catch her breath. She aimed her glare at him.

  “I told you I needed that bell. I’ve been shouting for hours it seems. Where is everyone? That villain took Yvette.”

  Fear stabbed at him, but he made himself move to her side. “Mother, you aren’t well.”

  “I’m likely dying,” she informed him. “But I refuse to stay abed. He’s taking Yvette back to France to stand trial. You must stop him.”

  A sound in the corridor set them both turning. Marbury staggered into the room, one hand holding his head. “Forgive me, your ladyship. Someone struck me, and I only now woke to your calls. What’s happened?”

  “The Frenchman we’ve been expecting took Yvette,” Gregory told him.

  Marbury sucked in a breath.

  “He played the physician, the despicable cur,” his mother said. “I played dead.” She
cackled. “And I heard everything. There’s to be a ship tomorrow night, at a cove near Foulness Manor. He’s taking her to meet it.”

  He bent and kissed the top of her head. “Thank you, Mother.”

  Marbury took another step into the room, lowering his hand. Gregory could not like his pallor. “How can I help, my lord?”

  “Tend to my mother,” Gregory said. “We believe she’s been dosed with laudanum. Miss Villers suggested syrup of ipecac.”

  His mother waved her hand. “The villain left a note saying something similar. I have any number of emetics about somewhere. We will contrive. Now, don’t just stand there. Go rescue my future daughter-in-law.”

  ~~~

  Hours later, Yvette lay on the bench of a coach as it rattled its way out toward the coast. She’d tried to scream for help earlier, even attempted to hurl herself out of the coach. Now her hands and feet were tied, and her mouth gagged. Her cousin thought of everything.

  “You never knew how to be a lady,” he jeered across from her. Blood dripped from his nose where she’d slammed into it attempting to escape, and he muttered a curse as he sopped it up with his handkerchief.

  She only wished he hadn’t gagged her so she could tell him what she thought of him. Her anger must have flashed from her eyes, for he rounded on her.

  “Don’t look at me that way. This is your fault. You chose to leave my employ to work for the Emperor. You decided to feed information to the rapacious English. You brought this on yourself.”

  Perhaps all this was a consequence of her actions, but she could not regret her efforts. The information she had sent to England had routed armies, prevented more deaths at the guillotine. Her only regret was that Gregory would never know what had happened to her. He might guess that the physician was involved when he returned home and found the man gone as well. But he would not know where she had been taken or how to save her.

  Worse, she had never told him she loved him.