Anne Barbour (24 page)

“I’m so pleased,” she was saying, “to be able to show you— why what is it?” she finished, apparently in response to the questioning expressions on the faces of her guests. She swung about, but the incipient smile that had begun to spread across her features died aborning.

“Wha—what?” were the only words she was able to form. Her gaze as she swung in consternation to Kate and Lady Frederica, was almost ludicrous in its expression of thwarted expectation, and for a moment she simply gabbled. Then, with obvious effort, she gathered the remnants of her dignity about her and spoke to Cilia. “We—we wondered where you had got to, my dear. How does it happen that—that there is such a large gathering here?”

“Ah, Regina,” warbled Lady Frederica. “It’s so terribly droll. Apparently all of us were struck at the same time with a desire to see your famous acid ant flower. We were engrossed in its beauty, when dear Cilia was apparently, er, molested by some species of beetle—a flying beetle, it appears. I was just about to aid her.” She turned to Cilia and began a vigorous pummeling at the back of her neck. “So distressing, all that wriggling. The beetle, that is. Perhaps this will dislodge it.”

Cilia jerked away from her. “Never mind, Aunt,” she said with a look that could have penetrated a tree trunk, “it’s gone now.”

“Well, then,” cried Aunt Fred merrily. “All’s well that ends, don’t you think? Come, dear,” this to Kate. “All this excitement has me very nearly expiring for a cup of tea.”

With Kate in her wake, her ladyship swept past Regina, who contented herself with a glare of such malevolence that Kate could feel its effects long after they had made their way down the corridor and out into the Hall. Lucius, however, bestowed upon them a look of abject gratitude.

“Aunt Fred,” breathed Kate in awe. “How did you know?”

Lady Frederica loosed a peal of her young girl’s laughter. “One of the upstairs maids came to me. She overheard Regina giving Cilia her orders not an hour ago. Really, the woman could put Wellington to shame. Celeste—the maid—had just performed some service for Regina and was still in the room, but you know Regina. The servants are just so many pieces of equipment to her, and might as well not have eyes and ears at all.”

“I thought she was going to explode with rage”—Kate laughed—”when she walked in to find her only daughter, not in a forbidden tête-à-tête with a deliciously eligible young man, as she was most certainly expecting, but in an unexceptionable huddle with the young man and a pair of female relatives.”

“Poor Regina,” Aunt Fred said, chuckling. “What a disappointment to find that dear little Cilia was not ruined after all, and the gentleman obliged to offer for her. All that lovely money gone a glimmering.”

They had by now reached Lady Frederica’s chambers, and the old lady ushered Kate into the room, requesting her to ring for tea.

Over the cups, Aunt Fred eyed her young relative meditatively. “Why are you wearing long sleeves, my dear, on such a warm day? To cover a succession of bruises, perhaps?” she added when Kate did not reply.

Kate sighed. “Nothing escapes you, does it? I suppose you recently sustained a visit from Phoebe. Yes, I did run into a little difficulty this morning.” She pushed up her sleeves as far as she was able, to display a burgeoning assortment of dark purple swellings.

“Good heavens, girl! Have you been indulging in fisticuffs?”

Kate ruefully detailed the morning’s events, with certain, careful omissions.

“And now,” she concluded, “I don’t know if I’ll ever go back to my ruins. I must admit to a certain reluctance in entering the two rooms where the roof is still whole, although I’m sure they’re perfectly safe, and I don’t think there’s much of interest in the area in front of the dwelling. And I feel so awful about what I put David through. He insisted he has suffered no permanent damage, and I hope that’s true, but he was in terrible pain. No, I think I’ll just let the past lie in the past from now on.”

“Nonsense,” retorted Aunt Fred briskly. “You must get David to put some real supports in the existing villa, and with a crew of diggers, you can simply start carving at the place from the top. It may take some years, but—”

“I shall not be here, Aunt.”

“Oh?” The old lady eyed her sharply. “And where would you be besides Westerly?”

“Westerly is not my home, Aunt Fred. It has provided a haven for me, but it is not my home. That I must make for myself.”

“I see.” Lady Frederica’s brows lifted, and when she spoke again, the brusqueness that was characteristic of her was gone from her voice. “What else happened this morning, my dear?”

“Goodness, Aunt,” responded Kate brightly. “Wasn’t that enough? You should see the bruises on the more unmentionable parts of my anatomy!” When Aunt Fred made no reply, Kate lifted her eyes, then dropped them swiftly. At last, she continued in a colorless voice, “I discovered that David thinks of me as nothing more than a dear friend.”

“But, I thought that was what you wanted.”

“So did I, until...” She straightened. “Please, Aunt Fred, I’d rather not talk about it.” She made as if to rise from her chair, but Lady Frederica stilled her with a gesture.

“Then don’t talk, just listen. You and David have known each other for a very long time, my dear. Your relationship had become a comfortable nest for both of you. You each had your little niche in the heart of the other. Now you are grown, and it is inevitable, perhaps, that you must carve new places.” She smiled tenderly. “I’m sure the operation must be as painful as it sounds. Worst of all, it takes time to accomplish.”

“You are very wise, Aunt Fred, and you’re right, I suppose. The trouble is, my heart seems to have cracked in the process. As for David, he obviously prefers the old niche. I shall grow to accept that, perhaps, but not from such close range. So”— she brushed away the film of tears that had gathered in her eyes—”how would you like to live in Brighton with me—or how about oh, say, Canterbury. Not too far from London, but...”

“You’re talking nonsense, girl,” Lady Frederica interrupted. “But I shan’t plague you anymore. You’d best go downstairs and search out young Pelham. He is probably still rooted to the spot in the conservatory, quivering like a jelly. Tell him he’d best get his bags packed and flee this place before Regina gets any more bright ideas.”

As it happened, Lucius was not quivering like a jelly in the conservatory. He was doing so in the gold saloon, putting himself outside a glass of brandy with all possible speed. He raised his head with a jerk at the opening of the door to the saloon, and a hunted expression filled his eyes. When he saw who had come to join him, however, he heaved a ragged sigh of relief and lowered himself into a nearby chair. With a shaking nod, he gestured to another, nearby.

“A narrow escape, that, eh, my lad?” Kate grinned. She and Lucius had rapidly established a friendly, informal rapport, and she felt no hesitation in chafing him on his
affaires de coeur.

“My God,” breathed Lucius. “Do you realize that this afternoon I came within Ames ace of acquiring that dreadful woman as my mama-in-law? I shall be leaving in a few days— I received a note from Papa in this morning’s post requesting my return home. Now, I want your solemn promise, Kate, that you will not let me out of your sight until my carriage toils its way past the gates of Westerly and is nothing but a distant point on the horizon.”

“Ah,” said Kate wickedly. “But then you run the risk of being coerced into marrying me. I am looking, you see, for my own transportation away from Westerly.”

Lucius lifted his brows.

“I rather thought you a permanent fixture here. Are you planning to leave?”

“Not until I have reached my majority, but that will not be many months from now.”

“Does David know of this?”

Kate shrugged. “I have not told him in so many words, but I’m sure he does not expect me to live out my days here, turning into a maiden aunt for his children. He will no doubt marry in the not-too-distant future, and I hardly think his countess will want to share her home with one of her husband’s leftover relatives.”

Lucius opened his mouth as though to say something, but then shut it abruptly.

“How is David, anyway?” asked Kate hurriedly, moving to a subject that had not left her mind all day. “He looked dreadful when he was being carried into the house. Do you know how he fares now?”

“The last I saw of him, he lay abed, the center of a considerable controversy between and Moody and Curle. Curle took it upon himself to prepare a hot tub laced with Epsom salts, which, he informed us grandly, he has found to be most helpful in the past to aid ‘the major’ when he was in particularly bad straits. Moody, on the other hand, insisted that cold compresses and fomentations were what was needed now. That, of course, is his sovereign remedy for a horse with joint problems. If it’s good enough for his lordship’s mount, it’s apparently good enough for his lordship.

“Oh, dear,” said Kate, unwilling to let Lucius draw her into laughter. “He must be in terrible pain. I will go up to him.”

“No—no, you mustn’t, Kate.” Lucius grasped her sleeve. “He won’t want you to see him like that.”

Kate looked at him straightly. “You said that to me once before,” she said in a quiet voice.

“I was right then, too,” he replied in an equally serious tone.

She sent him a rueful smile. “You are a good friend, Lucius.”

“To both of you, I hope.”

When Kate made no reply, Lucius lifted his hand with a smile, but as he prepared to leave the room, he was barred by the entrance of a breathless Curle.

“Captain!” he panted. “Miss. It’s ‘is lordship—we’ve ‘ad to send for the doctor!”

Chapter Eighteen

Kate’s face whitened. For an instant, it seemed that the room and all its furnishings had dropped away, leaving her frozen in a void of anguished disbelief.

“But you said he was all right!” she threw over her shoulder at Lucius who followed her as she ran down the corridor and up the great stairs. When she hurtled into David’s bedchamber, however, she was brought up short. There, standing at his bedside, was Lady Falworth, engaged in a verbal brangle with David, who lay atop the covers, fully clothed, and looking to be very far from death’s door.

The two turned their heads at the entrance of Kate and Lucius.

“Kate!” said Regina in a tone of extreme exasperation. “Perhaps you can talk some sense into him—and you as well, Mr. Pelham.”

“But, what is it, David?” Kate’s voice trembled with the effort it took not to shriek her question. “Why has the doctor been sent for?”

“Because,” he answered tiredly, as Regina opened her mouth once more, “I am tired of fighting the pain. And I am tired of being so damned fragile and useless.”

“Useless!” squeaked Kate. “You saved my life this morning, and ...”

David struggled to a sitting position and gestured to the others in the room.

“Please, all of you. May I ask you to leave for a moment? I must have a few words with Kate—alone.”

Regina stiffened.

“Certainly not!” she said, incensed. “It would be most improper. Whatever you have to say to her can be ...” She stopped as Lucius moved to take her arm.

“Whatever villainous intentions he may have, your ladyship,” he said smoothly, “I hardly think he’s in any position to carry them out.” With these words, he towed her from the room as she still gasped in outrage. Curle, who had entered the room behind Lucius, followed.

David leaned forward with some effort, and grasped Kate’s hands in his own.

“I’ve been thinking all day about what happened in the villa—and I’ve been thinking about what you said to me in the Abbey.”

“David, I had no business ...”

“But you were right. Not about my responsibility for Philip’s death—I still hold myself to blame for that. I would give all I possess to have that night back, but it’s not possible. So, I shall have to learn to deal with it—at least better than I have done so far.” He drew a deep breath. “Ever since Badajoz, I have sunk further and further into a swamp of self-pity. That may have been all right, as long as I had only myself to consider, but things are different now. I have a responsibility to Westerly and all those who live here. In short, my dear”— his grasp on her hands tightened—”I have decided to take off my hair shirt and get on with my life.”

Kate returned the pressure of his fingers. “Oh, David, I am so glad,” she whispered. “But what is this about the doctor? I was told you had suffered no real damage.”

David abruptly released her, and when he spoke, his voice was brisk and purposeful. “Step One in the David Merritt Improvement Program is to rejoin the world of the useful. As you so perceptively pointed out, I was rather taking comfort in my helplessness, but after this morning—and, yes, I do recall that I saved your lovely hide—I have become quite inflated in my own estimation. Despite my general decrepitude, I performed in a manner that quite astonished me.”

Kate was forced to laughter.

“David, you are being quite ridiculous. It did not astonish me in the slightest, for I know you would give everything that’s in you to save a friend.” This last was delivered with careful emphasis.

“Which,” he continued, as though she had not spoken, “leads me to the belief that I am not quite as helpless as I thought. This being the case, it behooves me to get off my admittedly scrawny backside and do something about it.”

“Oh, not nearly as scrawny as it was,” interposed Kate, her eyes twinkling. “There is nothing like country air and good food to flesh out one’s, er, anatomy.”

“How very gratifying. Anyway, I have decided to follow Dr. Craven’s advice and let him remove the ball from my hip.”

“What!?” The amusement fled from Kate’s face. “Oh, no— oh, you can’t David. Surely, it’s much too dangerous.”

“There is some danger, yes. The ball lies very near the nerve. But,” he continued gazing directly into her eyes. “It is a risk I must take. I trust Craven—he’s an excellent surgeon. He has gained some experience in this sort of wound, having first traveled to London for instruction before performing similar operations on Peninsula veterans living around here.”