“Don’t worry about Her Grace, as she’s always known I’ll dress as it suits me,” he directed to his valet.
“Certainly. Is there a particular bandana you’d prefer over the others to wear?”
“One of the brown ones as it will go with the jerkin and my work boots.”
Dressed to his satisfaction, and no one else’s, Simon ran his fingers through his hair again. As it dried, he realized it needed to be trimmed. Once again he shrugged and put the idea far back in his mind.
“For dinner this evening I’ll want the black jacket and trousers,” he announced then strolled away.
As he’d not heard the luncheon gong, Simon headed for his office to see if there were any posts which had arrived in his short absence. Happy nothing awaited his attention, he had an idea to write up what he’d seen on the visits. This way he’d know what problems might occur in the future, thus being able to head them off before they happened.
He’d barely started on the second sheet of paper when the gong sounded, interrupting his thoughts. Knowing his ladies wouldn’t arrive at the family dining room for a few more minutes, he finished the note suggesting the swine pen be reinforced. That was something he would be more than willing to help with, if a certain lady didn’t object. And that was the rub. Did she want him to go as the duke or Simon, someone willing to help when and wherever needed?
Hearing Emma and his mother walk past the office, Simon put the pencil down and marched to the door where he joined up with them. The reception he got from both, did and didn’t, surprise him considering his choice of clothing. His mother scowled while Emma smiled. What he did find interesting, was the simple dark brown dress Emma wore.
Was she going to be joining him and work in the garden?
“Simon, would you care to explain your attire as it’s not seemly for a duke? Also, don’t forget we’ve the doctor and his wife arriving later,” Laura reminded him.
“I’ll be happy to over luncheon,” he declared before following the ladies into the family dining room.
After making his selections for his afternoon meal, Simon followed the ladies to the table where he took his seat. He barely had a chance to slice into the piece of ham, when he felt eyes glaring at him. Lifting his head, he smiled to his mother then Emma. Unfortunately, neither returned the sentiment which meant he needed to explain himself.
“Since Emma is an accomplished rider and not in need of lessons, I thought I’d take time to do one of my favorite activities.”
“You mean besides chasing every eligible lady around London?” his mother jested.
Considering his already well known attraction to Emma, he decided to lay a biting scowl on her that earned a titter from both.
“Of course not. I thought I’d spend some time in the garden, helping to prune and weed the beds. That is, if Michael will allow me.”
“If I can ask, why wouldn’t he? After all they are yours, and you’re the duke,” Emma inquired.
In one sense Simon recognized she was correct, but in another, the man had a very protective nature to the flowers. Alas, that wasn’t the only problem he had with Michael. If he didn’t tell her, his mother would and make it seem worse than it was.
“Yes, they are, but once, and it only happened that one time no matter what others might say, when I was old enough to learn how to care for the beds, I helped Michael, who at that time wasn’t head gardener, pack the beds for the winter. We didn’t learn of my error until the next spring that I’d used too much straw. In the process, I came close to killing many of the plants. I was then banned from them until I got older, but the man takes great pleasure in reminding me of that particular incident. Sometimes I’m astounded he even lets me stroll along the paths.”
“Then, if Her Grace doesn’t have a need for my presence this afternoon, would you care for company?”
He’d been correct since she’d not mentioned anything about changing into a dress which she wouldn’t mind getting dirty. With a grin he cocked his head toward her.
“It would be a pleasure to have you join me, but won’t you need a chaperone?” he asked, wondering what his mother might say.
“As you both will be in the open, and others will be around, I don’t believe one will be necessary as long as you, Simon, promise to behave,” Laura directed him.
With that resolved, Simon dug into his meal and was happy the ladies did also. The rest of the luncheon was conducted in silence giving him a chance to figure out a way to get Emma alone.
Once they rose from the table, Simon escorted his mother to the stairs and waited until she reached the first floor before turning to Emma.
“Are you sure you wish to accompany me and without a bonnet?”
“Yes, as it will only get in my way. As you can see, I already have my walking boots on as I had planned on working in the garden anyways. At least Michael appreciates my help,” she teased.
This time, instead of offering her his arm, Simon held his hand out wondering if she’d accept the intimacy of bare skin. Much to his wonderment she did. He studied her face for any reaction, such as the faintest hint of a blush, when they touched. And there it was. He smiled to himself.
When they stepped onto the veranda, Simon heard in the distance, sawing then a faint cry just before a tree fell. From the information he’d read, there were several that had been reported to him as dead or dying from old age. What, he wondered, was to be the final outcome of the wood? Most likely the trunks would be cut into billets to heat the different rooms in the palace while the branches would be divided between the staff who lived in their own homes.
“Shall we hunt down Michael to see what needs doing and where?” he suggested.
Simon accepted her smile and head bob. He led her down the steps to the massive lawn where they turned left and headed toward the hot houses where the most delicate flowers were kept. This is where he knew the gardener also used the space to start new plants and vegetables, those for the kitchen garden.
The distant sound of an axe came to his ear, almost calling to him. He knew, if given a choice, he would rather work with the forester and his crew, which consisted of one other man. He was glad he’d dressed for any work that might pop up. Then he had an idea.
“If I was to dress more as a worker, in rough clothes and an old pair of boots, would that convince you to allow me to accompany you on your visits?”
“That would make not only me happy, but also your valet. At least then, he’d not have to worry about the condition of your clothes when you return.”
Looking ahead, he saw Michael striding toward them, a grin on the old man’s lips. If anything, that told Simon he wasn’t in trouble, yet.
“Your Grace, Lady Emma, how can I help you?”
“We came to offer whatever assistance you might need. At least that had been my original intention until I heard the forester cutting down a tree. I’m sure he could use my help,” Simon stated simply.
“As that work isn’t for me, I’m more than happy to help in the flower beds,” Emma added.
“Your Grace, you’re excused, gratefully, thusly preventing danger to the flowers. Lady Emma, if you’ll follow me, I’ll get you a basket and nippers,” Michael said.
Simon noticed the slight grin the man gave him when Michael said he didn’t need to help in the flower beds. With a bow to Emma, he turned and marched for the forest line at the far end of the garden.
Getting closer, he heard Hopkins and his assistant arguing. He couldn’t make out exactly what they were talking about. As he got closer Simon was able to make out they were verbally fighting over which tree should be the next to be taken down. Hopkins wanted one, while the helper adamantly insisted the other should be felled, thus opening the area the forester wanted.
Walking into the opening where the men stood, Simon cleared his throat to get their attention. As they started to bow he waved his hand to stop them. If anything, as with the tenants, he wanted to be treated as an equal in this situ
ation, not the duke.
“Gentlemen, I came to help, but it seems a tie-breaking vote is needed. To do that, what I need you both to do is stand beside the tree you want to cut down next. Not only that, but face the direction you want it to fall,” Simon directed.
He waited until each stood in front of the tree they wanted down. From where he was standing, several yards away, he wasn’t sure which should be felled next. He started for the one Hopkins had selected, when he saw a dark-headed rider approach with a pistol raised.
“Die, son of a bastard-making duke,” the man screamed out.
Simon watched a small puff of white smoke, followed by a larger one, exit the pistol’s barrel.
A searing pain ripped through his left shoulder.
Simon collapsed to his knees.
The last thing he saw, or heard, was the shooter turning and racing away before blackness overtook his eyes.
Chapter Fifteen
Emma had just knelt down and was starting to trim the dead and dying flowers when she heard a gunshot ring out through the silence. Quickly standing, she looked to the tree line. She threw her hand to her mouth to stifle a shriek but to no avail.
“Simon, you can’t die,” she screamed out.
The pannier fell from her hand, and she reached for her skirt when a firm hand stopped her. Trying to wrench her arm free, but not able to, Emma turned on the person and saw Michael staring at her.
“Release me now,” she ordered.
“M’ lady, no I can’t. Until I know what happened, I insist you remain here where it’s safe,” he demanded.
Looking over his shoulder, she watched several gardeners race in the direction where the gunshot had come from. It was the yelling from the palace which, next, got her attention. Emma watched as footmen streamed down the veranda stairs, Laura protected by Winston and a few burly men following came up to her. She was then distracted by voices calling out, coming from the right side of the palace as grooms, many riding bareback, galloped toward the rear of the park.
“Emma, you have to come with me now,” Laura stipulated, grabbing her hand.
She was surprised at the duchess’ informality. Wanting to go to Simon, she couldn’t shake off the duchess grasp.
“I-I…but what about Simon? I have to go to him,” she sputtered.
“Until we hear back from the footmen or grooms, you must remain safe. Whoever took that shot could still be around. Let’s get you inside.”
Knowing it was a lost cause, Emma let Laura steer her back to the palace where they took seats at a table on the veranda surrounded by the footmen and Winston. The sound of the French door opening brought Emma’s head around as Mrs. Lee stepped out carrying a small tray.
“Your Grace, m’ lady, this is to help calm your nerves.”
Emma didn’t want to calm her nerves, not until she knew Simon was safe.
Forced to take the proffered glass, Emma started to take a sip, when in the distance, she saw a mounted groom dash up, dismount, and stand on the grass in front of the veranda.
“Your Grace, Lady Emma, please accept my apology for galloping up. I was sent back to get something to work as a stretcher.”
Emma watched Winston slip back inside and a minute later reappear with two more footmen carrying a door.
It took all of Emma’s emotional fortitude, and a firm hold on her arm by Laura, not to cry out and go to Simon, which she knew wouldn’t do any of them any good. She had to be strong for him and his mother. That’s when she wondered how the duchess appeared so calm, at least on the outside.
“Drink up, my dear, as we’ve a great deal to do in preparation for my son’s arrival.”
Doing as directed, she took in a very unladylike gulp of the sweet liquid then looked past Laura to Mrs. Lee.
“We need clean, white sheets and hot water,” she ordered.
“Along with one of your special teas with a touch of laudanum in it. Get some cotton batting and honey to dress the wound,” Laura added.
Emma turned to the duchess. “Thank you. I’ve never had to deal with a person being shot before,” she admitted.
“Think nothing of it, dear. Hearing he’s been shot is something I’ve fretted about for years. As for becoming hysterical, it serves no purpose except to make things more difficult for everyone. This event, and you remaining calm, shows everyone how strong a lady you are.”
Hearing voices coming through the garden, Emma looked out and saw several footmen carefully coming toward the veranda. The sight of Simon set her into motion. With a glance to Laura she stood, marched into the palace, and up to the ducal suite. When they entered, Emma glanced around and saw everything was ready. Considering her unmarried status, she doubted she’d be able to treat the wound. Her only choice was to take the initiative.
“I’m not sure if it will be appropriate for me to be here while his wound is treated. Once he arrives, and I can see he’s not in great danger, I’ll depart and meet you in your parlor.”
“Lady Emma, I disagree with you. Granted, someone else might send you packing, but I’m aware you need to be here. Not just for him but for you. We’ll let Mrs. Lee and a maid get him settled, then with their help you clean the wound,” the duchess countered.
“Very well. What if the ball is still in him?”
“You see, even I can have a blank moment. We need to have Winston send a footman to the gate house to bring Harold here. That man spent years with my son fighting the French. I’m sure on more than one occasion he assisted in treating wounds. Even if he hasn’t actually removed a round, at least he’ll tell us what to do,” Laura said.
“Yes, and since we’ve no idea when the surgeon is arriving, we need to use the resources at hand. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll ring for the butler,” Emma uttered.
“That won’t be necessary. I’ve already sent for Harold, and he should be here shortly,” Winston announced from the doorway.
Upon hearing the news, Emma sighed in relief. The footmen’s steps were heard coming through the hall, and a second later they appeared carrying Simon into his room. Cook and Mrs. Lee followed closely, no surprise. Everyone was concerned and full of worry.
“If you’ll give us a few minutes to get His Grace settled then your assistance in helping to clean the wound would be appreciated,” Mrs. Lee declared to Emma.
Not sure what to do or where to go, Emma felt Laura’s hand settle gently on her arm.
“Come my dear, let’s wait over there,” the duchess said, pointing to the sitting area by the fireplace.
She followed Laura across the room, glancing over her shoulder and watched as Simon was moved to the bed. That was when she saw his normally robust complexion had gone pale. The change made her heart ache for him, and she vowed not to leave his side until he was greatly improved, no matter how long it took.
Emma heard Simon’s boots drop to the floor just as Edmond stormed in.
“I’m sorry. His Grace had sent me into town to collect several shirts, and I just got back. What can I do to help?”
From the panicked look in the man’s eyes Emma wasn’t sure what to do or say so she turned to the duchess for guidance.
“Right now, nothing. He has only now arrived, and as you see, the housekeeper and Cook are getting him settled. Edmond you need to try and relax. You’ll do him no good in this state,” Laura told him.
“Yes, and thank you.”
“Now, I’d suggest you slip out, find Winston, and under my order, have him give you a drop or two of whiskey. If nothing else, it will calm you down. As soon as he’s settled we will be helping Mrs. Lee treat and dress the wound,” Emma directed to the poor man.
“Thank you, m’ lady. It will be a pleasure having you as the new duchess.” Edmond then turned to Laura, “Meaning no disrespect.”
“It’s not a problem, young man. Now off you go,” Emma told him.
She waited for the valet to leave then turned back to the duchess as Cook stepped up and curtsied.
“Your Grace, m’ lady, as you see, he is set to have the wound treated, and he’s lucky the ball passed through him. If you’ll excuse me, I must return to the kitchen to make a simple gruel for when he awakens.”
“Yes, and send a tea tray up to help sustain us,” Emma said.
With the cook on her way, Emma turned her attention to Laura.
“I’m sure I can handle taking care of the wound under the guidance of Mrs. Lee. Might I suggest you interview the men who were with him to find out what happened?”
“My dear, that’s an excellent plan. If they tell me what the man looks like, and it confirms what we know, then we’ve the solid proof needed to make this Justin Beaumont hang,” Laura uttered.
She waited until the duchess left to hunt down the butler and arrange for her to interrogate the forester. Once alone with Mrs. Lee and a still unconscious Simon, she carefully looked over to him stretched out on the bed covered to his waist.
Never having seen a partially naked man before, she wasn’t sure how to respond. Taking in a deep breath, she let it out as she timidly crossed the room to where he lay with her eyes cast down.
“Lady Emma, this is a first for you I gather?” the housekeeper said softly.
Without even having to ask what the woman was talking about, Emma nodded as she stepped up beside her. Daring to look down at Simon, she slowly relaxed while studying him. Granted, she’d seen drawings of statues in books and remembered a trip years ago to London. Her parents had taken her to the museum. From what she could recall, none of what she’d seen before could compare to what she stared at now.
She already knew he had broad shoulders tapering to a narrow waist. However, seeing how he was muscled, Emma felt the air taken from her lungs. Then, there was the dusting of light-brown hair on his chest that extended below the sheets covering his lower half. Even the long scar across his chest didn’t distract from the magnificence of him. If anything the now long-healed wound added a touch of beauty to him.
His arms were well muscled, and the fresh gunshot didn’t take away from his apparent strength. No wonder he happily went to help with cutting the trees. This man, she knew, longed for hard work not so much to stay this well put together but for the physical exercise it provided.
The Duke's Bride (The Radcliffe Family Book 1) Page 13
