She pulled him to a seated position. “Now, up sir. Again, on the count of three. One, two, three.”
Clasping his cane, he held his breath. It took all his power to withstand the pain in his body when he rose, but he did it. By Jove, with her help, he stood.
Patience ducked under his arm. “Commander, let’s walk together.”
With a thud, he set down his cane. “You keep counting, Patience. I’ll not pass out. Proceed.”
Taking up the basket with her free arm, she started them moving, step by step to the door. They fell into a blessed rhythm.
“Busick, you’re being stubborn. I can postpone my trip a few days. Let me take care of you. I took care of your father. I’ll have you good as new.”
Those words were the scariest he’d ever heard. He wasn’t his father, wasn’t an invalid. And he’d never let a woman he didn’t trust have any control over him. “Night, Mother.”
“A mother should take care of her son, not a stranger.”
He ignored her and held tighter to the woman he did trust.
His mother went in front of them with her arms wide. “Mrs. Jordan, I order you to stop.”
“I’m sorry. I have a different commander. Out of our way.”
He wanted to smile, but everything hurt.
It seemed like an eternity before they reached his carriage.
She waved at the grooms, and they hoisted him inside.
Patience climbed in and put Lionel’s basket on the floor. She knelt beside Busick’s seat.
“Repington, are you sure you don’t just want to stay? The carriage will jar you all the way to Hamlin.
He stretched and put his palm to her cheek. “You’re the only woman I trust, Patience Jordan. Get me back to Hamlin, nurse me to health.”
“I’m serious.”
Busick held his breath and drew his arms together, folding them over his chest. “In fact, wear something fetching. I’ll recover faster, chasing you in my thoughts.”
“A nice dress will help you heal?”
“Yes, that and you agreeing to marry me.”
“Now I know you fell and hit your head.” She touched his temples as if to check for fever. “You need to stop this crazy talk. We’ll get you back to Hamlin, and you’ll recover, and everything will be normal again.”
Nothing would be normal, not for him, but he didn’t have the strength to convince her of the seriousness of his offer. It took too much to bite back the pain from the carriage wheels hitting every divot in the road.
“Fine. I’d rather be an invalid at Hamlin than any other place.”
He closed his eyes. He didn’t want to see the doubt straining her countenance. For the first time in a long time, he knew exactly what he wanted. Whether he could walk or not, he’d regain his strength and win Patience.
CHAPTER 27
CARING FOR THE DUKE
I stood outside Repington’s bedchamber, fretting as I had for the past three days. Upon returning to Hamlin, I’d sent for Lady Shrewsbury’s physician. This was against the duke’s orders, but I had to know how hurt he was. I didn’t understand everything the physician said, but he had my duke on laudanum and left instructions to keep him flat and isolated.
The duke hated it and begrudgingly followed the physician’s instructions.
Lord Gantry came out of the room and shut the door behind him.
“Is the duke any better?”
Gantry shook his head. “He needs to get back into his routine.”
Not knowing what to do with my nervous hands, I fiddled with my apron. “Can he see his men drilling from the window?”
“If he were up to it.”
The tone in his voice sounded too settled, too accepting of this fate.
I couldn’t.
A man who’d journey from a horrid injury back to riding a horse and had built a contingent force to face Napoleon wouldn’t accept it, either.
I glanced at his lordship. “Then maybe you should get his men drilling. We need to act like everything is normal.”
The viscount shrugged and went down the hall.
No one could be the duke but the duke. I should be mad at Lord Gantry, but he’d received a letter that left him brooding. I knew how deadly letters were, how they could kill a spirit, so I let him be.
Mustering my courage, I cracked open the door, hoping to see the duke sitting up and picking at the food I’d given to his valet.
Nothing was touched. The full tray was on the bed table.
Repington was flat on the bed. No pillows, no moving.
His eyes were closed. This quiet, this not declaring orders, unnerved me.
Moving to the bed, I arranged the sheers. “One word. Just one will do.”
No answer. Nothing for my hopes.
But what could I do?
I went into my room, the adjoining one next to Repington’s to check on Lionel. We didn’t move back to the third floor when he’d placed us here after the fallen chandelier. Now I couldn’t be far from the duke.
My baby’s smile wasn’t there. It was probably my imagination, but my boy surely noticed the difference in the house.
Jemina swept into the room. She held Colin’s diary. “How’s the duke? Is he any better?”
“I’m not sure.”
My friend leaned against the door. “The night of the gaming hell changed so much. We found Sullivan. We know of the extortion, but you and the duke are not the same.”
“He’s injured, of course things aren’t the same.”
“But you’re not injured. You’re tentative. Tiptoeing everywhere. You’re not you.”
I wasn’t me.
I didn’t know who me was.
Jemina took my hand and sat me at my vanity. “You talk in your sleep, you know?”
“I do?”
“Yes. You have nightmares of Colin Jordan, and now you talk of the duke.” She spun me toward the mirror. “Where’s the bold girl who snuck into Hamlin? Who slipped away every night despite the countess’s orders and threats by Markham?”
I stared at my reflection, the frightened island girl staring at me in the mirrored glass.
Jemina leaned in close. “I see the mistress of Hamlin. She needs to run this place, and she needs to see about the duke.”
I was afraid.
Wasn’t I pretending that we hadn’t crossed a line in the carriage?
That he hadn’t hurt himself chasing after me?
But mostly, that I hadn’t turned down his proposal?
What would make me commit to a marriage where I’d have to walk on eggshells? Lionel and I were meant for Demeraran seashells.
“This is all my fault. I’ve taken away his Jove’s favor with all my masquerades. Why else would he be hurt now?”
Jemina put her hands to my face. “You and the duke are so similar, so stubborn. Don’t let fear come between you. You deserve to be happy. For a woman, that means being brave. For a widow, it means learning to be brave again, not just smarter.”
She was right.
My fears, my guilt pushed me back into that quiet life of just moving about Hamlin wondering how to please Colin.
Repington wasn’t Colin.
And I had ideas how to please the duke, at least a little.
“Help me find a beautiful dress. That’s what the guardian of Hamlin requested.”
My friend nodded and began creaking open my trunks, the rest of them brought up from the catacombs. After plowing through this shift, that gown, Jemina lifted a muslin dress with a silver overskirt. Points of Vandyke lace circled the hem and edged the bodice.
It was beautiful. Perfect for a dinner party I thought Colin and I would attend. The muted colors, the airiness, the nonexistent waist for a girl with hips wouldn’t do. “Let’s try my other trunk.”
She opened it, and I thought I could smell the sea.
Her hands dipped into the linens and silk, the rainbow of colors from the mud cloth for shoulder scarfs. Then she tugged out the l
ast dress my mother made.
Long sleeves, made of smooth shiny silk, this grand robe had a luster that caught candlelight. This beautiful dress of a marigold hue with gathers at the waist was perfect to me, always perfect, worth the fittings and the admonishment for fidgeting. Mama. I loved her so. She was my chandelier, that bright lady who gave light to everything she touched.
I wanted to be like her, bringing light to my son, to my duke.
“Repington can’t ignore me in this gown.”
My friend nodded and laid the dress on the bed to prepare it for pressing.
This traditional fancy dress of Demerara would do the talking for me if words failed.
* * *
Holding my breath, I opened the door between our connecting bedchambers.
The duke stirred. “I don’t want to be disturbed. Please leave.”
I crossed around to the footboard and peered through the sheers. “No. I’ve let you stew too long.”
His eyes opened, fluttered closed, then opened again. “Do you need to force another physician on me? Is this a warning?”
“That was for your safety. I needed to know how badly you were injured.”
“I already knew. It’s my body. My shrapnel-laden spine. I knew what he’d say, and that he’d force laudanum down my gullet. I hate laudanum.”
“Do you feel better? The rest—”
“I can’t get up. I have to wait this out. I’d rather do that with some sense of control.”
Swishing my airy skirt and adjusting the bright madras scarf of orange and rust about my shoulders, I prepared for the duke to see me. I knew my appearance was the farthest from full- or even half-mourning as it could be. I was a walking English scandal.
“Repington, I must speak to you.”
It seemed like an eternity times three, before I heard him stir again.
“Patience, you may speak.”
Speak, run to him, fly forward, I rounded the bed and stood in the very position where his boots lined up, the spot I fell upon him on that day long ago. “I needed to see you.”
Eyes closed, nightshirt parted, exposing bits of his chest, he lay under bedsheets with hands flat on the mattress.
His face held three days of shadow. So different from his tidy appearance, but I didn’t mind rugged.
“You’ve seen me. Regrettably, I’m in the same position as when we arrived from Town.”
He released a long sigh, his blank expression not changing. “You’re going to tell me that I’d be up and around if we stayed with Lady Bodonel.”
“No.”
“You’re going to tell me I should’ve had my crutch if I was going to make a point of carrying Lionel about Town?”
“No.”
“You’re not going to tell me that all my foolish drills, trying to prepare to return to the fight is now wasted?”
“Never. This is my fault. You’re hurt because of me. My risk-taking has done this.”
He opened his eyes. “What?”
“You came after me. If I hadn’t gone chasing after Colin—”
“Colin is dead. There’s nothing to chase, unless you believe in ghosts.”
“I don’t know what I believe.” I shook my head. “Actually, that isn’t true. I believe in you.”
He raised his hand like he wanted me to come, but I saw a wince on his cheek. His arm dropped. “Well, rest assured. I’m not going anywhere. You’ve seen me. Stop fretting. I’m not wasting away.”
“You haven’t eaten.”
“Broth? A sick man’s food. Shouldn’t a prisoner have smuggled bread?” He laughed and then winced.
“I’ll get you bread. Anything you want.”
“Anything?” Now his eyes were wide open. “A miraculous sentiment coming from you. But, by Jove, you’re pretty, Patience.”
“Your god would approve?”
“Yes, lass. Now, if my god could answer my one prayer again, I’d show you how much.”
“I struggle with trust. Things are so different here than where I was raised. English versus island deities, so much conflict. And those marble gods downstairs are completely useless. You should toss them out.”
He chuckled even as his face scrunched. “Don’t make me laugh. It hurts to laugh.”
I threaded my hands through the bed curtains. “I believe that a man who has such good in his heart, who does good, will be rewarded.”
“On this side of glory? Or the other?”
“Hoping for both, Duke.”
“I walked before. By Jove, I’ll walk again.”
“If you know this, why tell me to go? Tell me anything else to do.”
“Anything, again? Patience, you weren’t good at following my orders under my employ.”
“It’s hard to listen and to trust.”
“That I know, but you’ve seen me. I’m glad you came, but you can leave. In a week or two . . . I’ll determine what’s next.”
Next? Was he referring to the proposal again?
I knew walking out the door wasn’t the right path. I avoided Mama’s last days because I couldn’t face life without her.
The duke wasn’t dying, but his spirit was. I couldn’t let him alone like I did Colin hoping things would improve. Not this time, not when I could do better.
As if I were moving toward the adjoining door, I rounded the bed, spread open the curtains, and eased onto the mattress. I didn’t want to jar his back, but I needed to be next to him.
He groaned from my scooting. “What are you doing?”
“Sharing your view. I used to lay here and study the canopy, count the stitches, hoping to hear Colin’s carriage. He stayed away for weeks. There were always reasons for him to be away.”
“Well, you’ll know where to find me if you’re looking for me.”
The uncertainty in his voice hit me hard. I didn’t know how to tell him, how to say all the thoughts crowding my skull.
I stopped thinking, stopped listening to excuses.
I gripped his hand, turned into him and kissed his cheek, then his nose.
Crouching on my knees, I leaned into him and tasted that mouth, that delicious, doubting wonder.
“Patience, you do know where I am.”
His hand reached my neck, stroking that spot, that gullet exposed by my coiffe, the silky mobcap covering my braided chignon. “You’re not going to let me waste away. You’re going to force me to live, aren’t you?”
“Yes, but I do like knowing where you are. And that you won’t be leaving me. I like not being afraid to touch you even more.”
With my pinkie, I traced his cheek. “Rough, very different, you not in full compliance.”
He brushed my knuckles against his lips. “This beard won’t last. Don’t get used to it.”
Clear blue eyes settled on me. The shadows I saw in the carriage and when I stood at the footboard seemed to have lessened.
Yet, a shadow was still a shadow. Regret or mistrust still remained. It was time for a full confession; well, an admission of the truths I knew.
“I went with the barrister to two gaming hells to search for a man named Sullivan. We found him. He runs credit at the Piccadilly gaming hell. I think he’s changing the amounts owed and pocketing the money. I believe Colin and Markham were extorting him.”
“That’s a serious accusation. A man’s debt are a matter of honor.”
“Colin kept a record of these transactions. We found a diary. The notations in it are confusing. I want to think Colin’s moods got to him. The latter pages show the trembling of his hand, must be from his deepening depression.”
“My cousin’s script was something he prided himself. You’re sure it’s not some sort of misunderstanding with Sullivan? I didn’t think Colin would threaten someone for money.”
“Threats sounds like Markham. I think this is why he had to get rid of me. I can identify Sullivan. I must be a witness to the conspiracy.”
He clasped my fingers. “You’re rocking. Snuggle close, the
n don’t move.”
Those were orders I could follow. Lying beside him, I put my cheek to his shoulder. “Rattle off more commands, and come up with a strategy on how to win this war and prove Markham’s guilt.”
“I’ll stew on this and review the diary. But I’m intrigued about your new willingness to follow orders, Patience.”
With my chin tucked high on his shoulder, I didn’t resist when his other arm found me.
The gown I’d pressed, each gather at the bodice, the lacy puffy sleeves, would wrinkle and deflate within the heat of his hold. I cared not.
The drumming of his heart, the rhythm mirrored what I felt down deep in my battered soul.
His moan was loud when he held me. It wasn’t pleasure. He’d forced himself to move, slipping his mouth along my jaw until he’d taken full possession of our kiss.
I wanted him to command me, to tell me what to do to make his pain go away. In this instance, I’d let him mold me into the woman he needed.
A loud groan like a cannon’s belch ripped from my duke. He eased back onto his pillow. “Well, that’s enough seduction for me. I’m glad you found me. I’m glad, but you can go.”
Kneeling over him again, I put my hands to his sides, soft and easy, all those years of walking on shells put to good use. “You know I don’t do well with orders.”
Then I arched my back and stretched and finished this kiss that needed to be his. Three days of fearing for him, of hating myself for his injuries disappeared in the taste of him.
“With you rallying me to health, I’ll walk again.”
One palm cinching my waist, expert fingers scorched my melting spine. The duke’s silent commands encouraged me to continue.
“I’m not hurting you?”
“Of course you are, but that doesn’t mean I want you to stop. With pleasure, sometimes there’s pain. I’ll let you know when I’ve had my fill.”
Lionel’s sweet cry filtered into the room.
“Or he will let us know. Take care of my boy. Tell him to enjoy the good stuff.”
Easing from this mattress made for two, I smoothed my gown, but before I went to my son, he stopped. I peeked through the door, and he’d fallen back to sleep, thumb in mouth.
The duke chuckled. “I need to speak to him about sharing. I’m beginning to take these interruptions personally.”
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