Love's Misadventure (The Mason Siblings Series Book 1) (35 page)

“Good morning, Annabel.” She placed her gloves and bonnet on a table beside the door, her white-blonde hair catching the sun from Anna’s window. She appeared ethereal in this light—delicate and pale.

“How is he faring?” Anna questioned, eyeing Bridget intently.

“According to his nurse, the fever broke early in the afternoon yesterday. He should begin his recovery now…as long as he regains consciousness.”

Anna pressed her lips together and twisted her engagement ring around on her finger, nervous anxiety lodging itself within her.

“I must say, Anna, I am very pleased that you are engaged to be married. I confess, I am very much looking forward to having you as a sister.”

Anna grinned sadly. “I am, as well.”
As long as Lane awakens.
She covered a yawn with the back of her hand. “My apologies.”

“Not at all. Would you prefer I leave you to rest?”

“Thank you, but no. I feel I have spent far too much time resting; I would much prefer the company.”

Bridget pulled an armchair to Anna’s bedside and sat. “I am certain Mama and the girls will be inordinately pleased once you announce your engagement to my family. I must warn you, however, that Kat will likely beg you the opportunity to make your wedding gown.”

“My wedding gown?” Anna had known Katherine to enjoy embroidery and materials, but she hadn’t the slightest notion that she enjoyed sewing gowns.

Bridget sighed. “Yes, did you not know? Kat has taken it into her head that she would like to become a
modiste
. She has been sewing since Mama first taught her to pick up a needle and thread. She has created all of the frocks that she wears, most of mine, Emaline’s, and Mama’s, and, truth be told, several of Lane’s suits of clothing.”

Anna’s eyebrows rose in surprise and fascination. “She does tailoring, as well?”

Her friend nodded. “Indeed she does. I am not certain that Mama approves, but she has yet to scold Kat for it. Though we all know that it cannot go on for much longer, as soon Katherine will wish to marry, and no London gentleman will take a wife with such diversions.” She glanced at her own clasped hands, and Anna wondered if she was still talking about Kat.

She pushed past the moment and allowed her excitement to bubble through. “I would love for Katherine to create my wedding gown! What fun that would be!” She would not have to explain her expanding waistline to a gossipy
modiste
!

“Truly?”

“Of course. I shall send a letter to her once our engagement is announced, formally requesting it of her.”

“Oh, Anna, Katherine will be so pleased.”

“As will I.” Anna took a sip of her chocolate. “Would you care for some chocolate or tea, Bridget?”

“Oh, no, thank you. I will not stay long. I have a luncheon engagement with a new acquaintance.”

“New acquaintance” meant a new project. Anna admired that about Bridget; she did her utmost to improve upon certain members of society, simply by being their friend. “As you wish.” Anna took another sip of her chocolate. “Tell me, Bridget, how have you been doing?”

Bridget watched her fingers as they fidgeted with the fabric of her gown. “I am well, Anna. Thank you.”

Once again, Bridget hid her true feelings. Anna would have pried, but the moment she did, Bridget would flee. And Anna enjoyed Bridget’s company far too much to jeopardize it.

“I am glad to hear it,” she said instead. “Now, do tell me about the newest books at Hatchard’s. I must begin a list of books to read, as I shall be secreted away to Hertfordshire after the season is through, and I do not wish to be bored.”

They spoke for some time, and had tea. While Anna was grateful for the distraction, she could not help but worry over Lane’s wellbeing.

Chapter 42

Anna watched from her propped position in bed as Marie ushered their footmen out, carrying the empty bathing tub. She wished her maid a good night before lifting her book from her lap and opening it to her bookmarked page.

“Why was she here again?” Charles’ dark form stepped out from the shadow of the hallway.

Anna gasped and suffered a fit of coughing. Her throat honked, and her lungs burned, but finally she regained her wheezy breath. “Good heavens, Charles!”

“Apologies, Anna.” He came to her bedside and rubbed her back in circles, waiting until she had finished. “Are you well?”

She inhaled deeply, sending Charles a wry grin. “Well enough for someone whose brother insists on spooking her.”

His lips twitched before turning down in a frown. “I will ask you again, Annabel. Why was she here?”

“I assume you mean Bridget. She was here to visit Lane, then she came to my bedchamber to keep me company.”

“Lane is not yet conscious; how would he know that she has come if he is not awake to see her? She does not need to come every day, and I would prefer if she didn’t.” Her heart constricted at the reminder of Lane’s condition.

Anna frowned at her elder brother, dear though he might be. “That is uncalled for, Charles. Shame on you.”

He stepped closer, his spine impossibly stiff. “This is much more serious than you could know. She
must
not come here.”

Charles might not fully approve of her association and pending marriage with Lane, but Anna did not see that as an excuse to be so ill tempered.

“If her presence bothers you, brother, then I would suggest you vacate the house when she arrives. I have invited her to join me here again on the morrow. She is bringing a new book from Hatchard’s that we shall begin reading together.”

Charles groaned and rubbed a hand over his face. “Listen, Anna, there are only three weeks left in the season, at which time we will return to the estate in Hertfordshire. There, you will be wed. I do not request, I
demand
that you listen to me on this matter.”

Anna’s good humour dissolved. “You
demand
it of me? Demand, Charles? Not only are you not my father, and therefore not the head of this household, but you have no just cause to demand any such thing! She is a dear friend; you shall not order me to be otherwise.” She succumbed to a short fit of coughing. Lord but it was irksome!

Charles leaned into rub her back once more, but she batted his hand away. She waited until she had regained her breath before she spoke. “I would appreciate it if you left.” She sent a pointed look at the door. “Good night, brother.”

His jaw tight, Charles sketched a short bow and stiffly left the room.

Anna picked up her book only to gaze sightlessly at its pages. Goodness, but Charles was in a foul mood. Anna wondered once more what had caused such a strain on his and Bridget’s friendship.

* * *

The first thought that entered Lane’s head upon awakening was that he was in overwhelming pain. He carefully brought his right hand up to his forehead, where a damp compress rested. He lifted it off and cracked open his eyelids, but immediately regretted it.

Blazes
, the room was bright. Sunlight shone through the opened window. He blinked, staring at the dust motes that danced along the air.

Where the devil am I?
The ceiling was most decidedly not his; it was far too elegant and…delicate
.
He turned his gaze about the room. It was small but well appointed, with bright, cheerful colours and floral patterns.

A soft sigh reached his right ear, and he turned his gaze toward the sound.
Anna
. She lay curled up at his side, sleeping peacefully. She appeared drawn, but was a beautiful and welcome sight.
She had stayed by my side
. The realization warmed him immeasurably.

He moved to reach for her but cursed as searing pain shot through his shoulder. He hissed a breath and flattened himself against the mattress. Holy hell, but he felt awful.

“Lane!” she breathed, awakening. “Oh Lane, you’re awake! This is wonderful news.” Despite her exhausted countenance, she beamed at him, her eyes misting over. “How do you feel?”

The sun from the window gave Anna’s head the illusion of a halo, her sleep-tangled hair appearing nearly translucent. He had the urge to kiss her. If he could have moved, he would have. “I hurt,” he croaked. “And I am rather confused. Why am I not in my own bed? What happened?”

Anna straightened herself to a seated position on the bed beside him, her legs tucked to one side. “You are in one of the guest bedchambers in my home. You lost consciousness at the hunting cabin and have been sleeping since then. We brought you here to get the attention you required, and the doctor feared the repercussions should we have moved you.”

The hunting cabin… Hell and blazes!
“Are you well, Anna?”

She smiled damply. “I am. Just so pleased that
you
are well.” Tears abruptly spilled over her lashes. “I had begun to fear that you might not awaken.”

Cringing through the pain, Lane reached a hand up to stroke a tear from her cheek and slide a wayward lock of hair behind her ear. “I am well, Anna,” he murmured. “A mite sore, but I shall recover.”

His wound itched him, but he settled for placing his hand over it. Then a thought arrested him. “Whose night shirt am I wearing?”

Anna grinned, swiping at her reddened eyes. “It is one of Charles’.”

“Hell,” he grumbled. As grateful as he was for the sleeping attire while he was abed, he was markedly uncomfortable borrowing another man’s clothes. He cleared his throat over his discomfiture. “You say that Dr. Claridge has seen to me?”

“Yes.” She nodded her adorably rumpled head. “He has been remarkable.”

The good doctor, it seems, had been rather busy during Lane’s unconsciousness. “How long have I been abed?”

“You have been fading in and out for five days. Your fever broke the day before yesterday.”

“Five days! You’re bamming me.”

She shook her head. “I assure you, I am not.” She put a stray hair behind her ear, and Lane followed the movement with his eyes.

A sparkle caught his gaze, and he watched her put her hand back on her lap. She was wearing her engagement ring! Elation and pride pumped through him as he reached his hand out to clasp hers.

Her blue gaze glittered.

“You’re wearing it,” Lane noted lamely.

She nodded, a small smile on her lips. “Of course.”

Lane returned her smile with an absurdly exultant one of his own, just before she leaned down to kiss him.

“What the devil is going on here?” Charles’ outraged voice came from the doorway, startling Anna into a fit of coughing.

Lane rubbed a concerned hand on her back until she finished.

“How long has this been going on?” Charles and Lane asked in unison.

Anna looked between the both of them, then laughed breathily. “I do believe you mean different things.”

“Of course we do, Anna,” Charles muttered, crossing his arms over his chest. “What are you doing in here? How long has this been going on? Do you two meet in the evenings while pretending to be ill during the daytime hours, just so I am forced to keep Lord Devon under my roof?”

Anna let out a bark of a laugh, startling both men. Lane had never heard such derision directed at Charles from her before.

“Not that it truly matters to you, Charles, how I feel or what I do, but I have been sneaking in here at night to keep an eye on Lane. His fever had been quite severe, and I monitored him to ensure that he survived the nights. Last night was his first truly restful night, and I confess, I fell asleep while keeping him company.” Her eyes warmed as she turned to look down at Lane. “To answer your question, my love, I have been coughing since the fire. It has improved, however, as I no longer cast up my accounts while doing so.”

Concern gripped him. “How is the baby?”

“Well, so Simon informs me.” She began to lean down for another kiss, when Charles took a step further into the room.

“This is all so very touching,” he sneered, “but if Lord Devon is recovered, then I believe he should return to his own home.” He sent an angry glance at Anna. “You should be in your own bed. Off with you.”

Despite her brother’s disapproval, Anna gave Lane a quick kiss. She then slid off the bed and left the room, sending Charles a frown as she did.

Charles closed the door behind Anna, then turned to face Lane, his arms crossed and his expression irate.

“I thank you for your hospitality, Charles,” Lane said, his voice still rough like gravel. “I understand that there is something you wish to discuss with me, however at the moment, I must answer nature’s call.” Lane struggled to a seated position then gasped, a cold sweat beading on his skin. The blood drained from his face, and black spots danced before his eyes.

“Are you with me?” Charles hovered over him with Lord Simon Claridge, heir to the Earldom of Merrington, standing behind him, an odd air to his startlingly blue eyes.

“With you?” Lane frowned. “When did his lordship arrive?”

“Please, call me Dr. Claridge. And I happened to arrive shortly after you fainted, which I assure you—”

“Fainted
?
You mean to tell me that I swooned?”

The doctor tilted his head sideways in an odd shrug of his shoulder. “Medically speaking, your loss of blood caused your bout of dizziness, but yes, you fainted. It is nothing to be ashamed of, I assure you.”

“Have you ever fainted, Dr. Claridge?”

“No, but—”

“Then I would not speak of embarrassment to me.”

The man nodded. “Very well, I concede the point.”

Lane swallowed his pride as he asked, “Is it possible for me to use the facilities?”

“Indeed.”

The two men assisted Lane to his unsteady feet, then walked with him until he reached the necessary, at which point Lane insisted on continuing on his own. It was humiliating enough having them aid him that far; he needn’t have them hovering while he performed his ablutions.

What was it that Charles had wished to discuss with him? He had appeared distinctly put out when Dr. Claridge had insisted that Lane receive a meal, then rest in silence for the remainder of the day. Curious, indeed.