Authors: Claudy Conn
SCOTT TOUCHED HIS shoulder with a wince as pain shot through him. Something was wrong with the blasted thing. The wound was oozing a bit right through the new bandage he had just managed to put on … and that after Flip had already changed the bandage for him earlier that morning. It shouldn’t have needed changing so quickly.
She had, in fact, remarked upon it, saying that the wound looked wrong to her.
“Wrong?” he had asked on a chuckle. “How could a wound ever look right?”
She had laughed but said, “Well, I shall feel better about it once the doctor has visited you today. Much better, for I am a bit worried, Scott.”
“Nonsense.” He had shooed her away and tried eating his breakfast. However, a few bites had made him feel queasy, and he had lifted the tray, got up, felt a bit wobbly as he set it outside his bedroom door, and had climbed back into bed.
He was heartily bored and thought that Flip would have returned to him by now … and then he looked and saw the bandage she had managed for him earlier was oozing badly.
He was a bit surprised and just a bit worried as he changed it himself, struggling a bit to get the wad in place, but thought when he was done that he had made a good job of it.
“Zounds,” he told the empty room. “Damned sick of being here alone.”
What he needed was a shot of exercise and fresh air—that was the ticket, he told himself. Up he got to his feet, and though he still felt just a bit off, he shrugged on the new cloak that Ashton had supplied him, wincing as he finally got it over his shoulders. He made the way out of his room and down the stairs to the main galley, where he stood for a moment to catch his breath. Something was damnably wrong, he thought. Air … probably only need fresh air, he told himself as he looked around and wondered where Flip had gone off to. He smiled to himself. She never could sit still. No doubt she was taking a ride on Whiley.
Aye, then, a walk would do him good.
As he stepped outside and took in a long drink of fresh air, he felt suddenly worse. Dizziness hit him like a punch to the head, and all at once he knew he needed to hold onto something to continue to stand. He reached out to hold the side of the building and said under his breath, “What the deuce. Well, that’s what I get for staying indoors too long.”
Determined, he took a few hard strides forward and realized he felt a bit hotter than he should. The day was cool, very cool.
What was wrong with him?
A few more steps, and he saw trees and courtyard table and chairs all begin to spin before his foggy eyes.
* * *
Rebecca handed her gray gelding to the stableboy and made her way into the inn and up the stairs. She was looking forward to finding her friend, Felicia, again and having a good long chat, but besides that she also wanted to see how Mr. Scott went on. Her black eye was already yellowing, but she had managed to put a splattering of powder on it, though her father had tsk-tsked at her and said it wasn’t necessary. At least her hair was looking more the thing, and she found she cared very much how she would appear … to Scott Hanover.
It never occurred to her that she would not find Felicia within as she made her way down the hall. A maid stepped out of Felicia’s room, put a hand to her heart, and said, “Lor … Bless ye, Miss Wilson, but ye look a sight better than ye did after yer ordeal. It’s that glad I am to see ye looking so well and so pretty in yer blue silks.”
Becky thanked her sweetly, and the older woman bobbed her head and hurried off with a basket of linens, saying over her shoulder as she moved away, “Miss Felicia went off for a ride, she did, high-spirited that one, lovely, lovely young woman always has a moment to chat and smile.” She eyed her then and added, “But Mr. Scott is about somewhere. Saw him come down the stairs just a few moments ago.”
Becky hurriedly went back downstairs, holding up her riding skirt as she went, stopped at the bottom, and gave herself one final adjustment, making certain her tawny hair was in place and her blue crown hat with the pretty lace ribbon sat jauntily on those curls. She took in a long breath of air and with a smile on her face stepped into the courtyard.
Becky found Scott tottering and looking as though he were about to collapse right before her eyes. She ran to him, shouting out his name, “Scott!”
He smiled like a fool as she caught him and struggled to hold him up, for although he was not heavy, he certainly was a handful for even her tall frame. He eyed her adoringly and said, “Ah, an
angel in blue
… Miss Wilson.”
His voice was scarcely audible, his color white, and his body, she thought, warm … too warm, and she suspected he was feverish.
She called for the innkeeper, who luckily was nearby and came hobbling towards them just in time to help her with Scott’s weight. He shifted the woozy young man against his ample side.
“Glad you are here,” Scott said.
“Are ye, lad?” the innkeeper teased.
“Not you … well, yes, and you … but … Miss Wilson … glad Miss Beautiful in Blue is here,” Scott said, a silly look on his face.
Becky knew now that he most certainly was feverish and probably did not even know what he was saying. She thought, however, it would be best to humor him and answered, “Are you, sir? I am glad of it too. But now we must get you inside and see what the trouble may be.”
“Trouble? No trouble now that you are here.” He beamed at her. “Inside? Very well … been thinking about you,” he said confidingly.
“Have you been?” She blushed and looked up to find Glen Ashton and Felicia hurrying towards them.
* * *
“Scott! Oh no, what has happened?” Felicia cried fretfully as she went to him but then immediately stepped out of Ashton’s way.
“Dash it!” Ashton swore under his breath as he took hold of Scott’s weight. “What has the boy gone and done to himself?” All at once, he had taken control, and Felicia watched him with absolute admiration as he asked for the doctor to be sent for immediately, took hold of Scott as though he were naught but a featherweight, and lifted him like a babe in arms. He told the innkeeper as he moved towards the stairs, “That’s a good man, if you will see that a bucket of lukewarm water is brought up … and a bottle of gin.”
Felicia knew this method of bringing down a fever. The wonder was that Ashton knew it as well. He was such a man, she sighed, between worried thoughts for Scott.
Ashton managed to get Scott situated in his bed, and Felicia saw that her friend was perspiring severely. She wrung her hands and said, “Where is the water …?” She went and used the wash basin water, dipping her handkerchief in it and rushing back to wipe down Scott’s face.
Becky did the same, and they took turns at this.
“He is so hot,” Becky whispered.
“Indeed,” agreed Ashton. “No doubt the wound has become infected. It happens.” He had already opened Scott’s shirt and removed his soaked bandage to find that the wound was indeed oozing badly, swollen and red.
“We need warmer water and the gin,” Felicia said and then breathed with relief as the innkeeper appeared with the bucket and the bottle.
Ashton took the gin and poured some of it into the warm water. He then dipped one of the clean rags the innkeeper had supplied and went about the business of wiping Scott’s forehead, face, chest, and even his wound.
Becky leaned over Ashton and said calmly, “It will need to be cauterized after it is cleaned. My father suffered such a wound from a stray bullet—
poachers
—and his wound looked just like that.”
A few moments went by as Becky sat beside Scott and used a wet cloth from his wash basin, warmed it by the fire, and cleaned his damp face over and over again.
Felicia went downstairs to see if the doctor had been sent for and paced a moment when they told her he had over twenty minutes past.
Ashton took to pacing, and Felicia returned and helped Becky wipe Scott down. She knew an urge to cry, for he did not look well at all.
Suddenly Ashton was there, gently touching her cheek as he whispered, “Good girl, Scott will do. As Becky says, the wound needs cauterizing.”
The doctor arrived, and when he inspected the wound a bit too roughly, Felicia thought, Scott screamed out in pain, which made Becky clutch at her.
When the hot iron was set to the wound, Scott let out one yelp and passed out.
The doctor said on a sigh, “Aye, lad … aye … but now it’s done.”
Becky started for the door, telling the doctor, “Don’t cover the wound. Honey … it will work to help heal him. I should have thought of it sooner.”
“Yes, I have seen honey work wonders on very awful wounds,” Felicia agreed.
The doctor shrugged. “Agreed.”
A few moments later, Becky returned with the honey, and it was placed on the now closed black flesh.
Scott squirmed and opened his eyes, grabbed Becky’s hand, and whispered, “Don’t go.”
“No, I shan’t,” she answered.
After that, Scott seemed to rest a bit more comfortably, and the doctor pronounced that they had all done right by him but that he needed some sleep. “Keep him off his feet … keep his meals light, bread and jam for a bit … he should do.”
Felicia and Becky fussed over Scott, and Ashton grinned at the young man and said, “Well, look at you, with two beautiful women attending your every need. I tell you what, Scott Hanover, you are the most complete hand.”
Scott grinned before he closed his eyes and promptly dozed off.
AT EASTON MANOR, Lady Daphne went about the business of discovering how the missive from her brother had been delivered.
She was thorough and relentless. She gathered her information, and it was easy enough to discover that the groom who had delivered the note had come from Andover Inn, off the Post Road to London.
This establishment, she was advised, was a perfectly respectable hostelry some twelve miles west and should not take her above two hours traveling time.
What did take her time, however, was seeing that her maid packed her bags, instructions to the Easton staff to carry on, and composing a letter to be taken to Scott’s father. It had to be worded just so, as she did not wish for him to find and follow her.
Confronting her brother was something she meant to do completely on her own and in private.
These matters thoughtfully executed, she advised her coachman to hitch up the horses and get ready for their short journey.
She saw herself comfortably situated against the leather squabs, gazed at the passing scenery, and planned her revenge against her beloved brother. That he was a duke made not a bit of difference to her. That he was her younger and very dear sibling meant nothing in her present state of mind. That he had gravely and unjustly wronged her meant everything.
Her maid, who was more friend than anything else, kept her entertained with endless chatter that was both amusing and, at times when the woman spoke of her family in the North, endearing. Her maid, Sally, had been with her a long time, and her ladyship, being both generous of nature and considerate, made a mental note to slip Sally a few extra coins to help her less fortunate but deserving family members.
All at once the carriage came to a complete stop, and her lashes flashed over her eyes.
Oh no, now what?
Vexed, she stuck her head out the window she had opened and asked, “Why are we stopping?”
“Sorry, m’lady,” offered her coachman. “Brown Pudding here lost a shoe. But don’t ye be fretting it. Oi had the good sense to bring along extra and know the way of it, Oi do.”
“Good man, Tom. You have always been quite excellent, a knowing one and accomplished as well,” Lady Daphne said, well pleased.
Very well then
, she told herself,
now to further plan my brother’s murder
.
* * *
Breakfast had turned out to be a meal Felicia had taken in her room. She didn’t know when it occurred to her that the time had come to avoid Ashton.
She knew he felt something for her, but the trick now was to make him declare it first to himself and then to her.
Absence makes the heart grow fonder
? Well, she wasn’t sure about that, as there was always the danger that he might forget what had not yet developed enough to hold onto. A little absence was safe ground, though.
She hadn’t been able to swallow more than a few bites of toast because thoughts in her head had begun a whirlwind of activity that in turn had her stomach churning.
She gave it up and had a nice long visit with Scott.
Changing his bandage made her exclaim with delight, “Oh, Scott, that is much more the thing … it has healed so much overnight.”
He grinned at her, for he was no longer feverish and even tried to get out of bed. She pushed him back down and fetched the cards. “No, no, you don’t. Here … we’ll play a hand.”
“Will Becky come soon, do you think?” he asked suddenly.
She eyed him. “Why?”
“Well, she was the one who thought of the honey, wasn’t she?” he teased.
“Odious boy, so you want a nurse do you? Is that how you think of our Becky?”
“No, not a nurse, but the most beautiful woman I have ever clapped eyes on,” he said dreamily.
“Ah, she is …” Felicia said softly. There it was. Her Scott was in love.
He eyed her. “Not that you aren’t very fine, of course you are, but …”
“But, as a sister, you don’t see me that way. I feel the same about you, so I quite understand,” she said.
They finished off another game. Restless, Felicia got up, and he snorted, “Aye … go on, get in a walk or something. You can’t stay here all cooped up.”
She made her way below and stopped short at the wide open doors to the private parlor.
He
sat there, perusing a paper, a cup of coffee at his elbow, and she thought she had never seen in all her life a man quite like Ashton. She was shaken to the core, or thought she was until he looked up and his silver eyes caught and held her rigid in place. Oh, yes, she couldn’t breathe now that their eyes had gone into lockdown. It was as though time had been suspended. She couldn’t tell what he was thinking or feeling because she was caught up in her own storm of emotions.
As he jumped to his feet and went towards her, she saw the glint in his silver eyes, and her lashes fluttered against her will. She had to stay strong. This man did not want a simpering, infatuated girl. This man needed a strong woman, and
she was that strong woman
; she only had to remind herself of it.
“Felicia,” he said, his voice low and caressing. “I have been waiting for you to make an appearance. I—do come join me for some coffee.”
“That would be very nice,” she said and allowed him to take her hand and pull her within. The touch of his hand over hers sent shivers of excitement through her body. His flesh on hers sent coursing through her mind’s eye flashes of images of their night together, and she knew she was being absurd, but it was as though little bubbles had formed in her blood and each was exploding from his touch.
She was hopelessly in love, but what sent her into a sense of exultation was the look their touch had created in his burning silver gaze.
She might be naïve, but she was certain he was genuinely taken with her. Was she thinking that because he was someone she didn’t want to live without?
Exultation made her bright and daring as he saw her seated, and she lifted her face to his. “Do you not have to leave us yet, sir?”
“
Leave you?
” He frowned. “What are you talking about? Of course not. I am here and shall stay here until it is time to escort you and young Scott wherever it was you two were going to in the first place.”
“Ah, but I am certain you must have some other place to be,” she answered.
He took her chin and forced her eyes back up to his. “Are you certain? You shouldn’t be.”
She must push forward with her plan. She must be cool and unattainable. Mustn’t she be? An inner voice told her she was wrong, that she should just be herself. Game playing was not what was needed with such a man. Which voice should she listen to? Oh, but she wished she knew.
He sat and began a string of delightful anecdotes, appearing determined to keep her entertained with lively conversation.
She laughed easily and bent near him. “Ah, but you were the devil of a handful growing up.”
Once again he took hold of her fingers and pressed them to his lips before he stroked her cheek with the back of his palm. “Indeed, I was … but I fancy you are no stranger to being a handful, my dear.”
She giggled. “Indeed, I suppose I have always been rough and tumble.” She sighed. “I suppose that Scott will be well enough to travel in a couple of days, don’t you?”
He inclined his head. “Indeed, I do agree. We have to make certain the wound is healed sufficiently, as there will be some jostling about in the coach.”
“Coach? What coach?” she asked, surprised.
“I mean to hire a conveyance to take us to London.”
“But what about your curricle?’
“I have an excellent tiger … I will send him to fetch my phaeton after I get home. Nothing to concern yourself about. I’ll tether your horses at the back of the hired coach, and we’ll lumber along comfortably.”
She sighed and regarded him with some awe. “You do think of everything, but why are you putting yourself to so very much trouble? You have already done more, so much more than anyone could ever expect.”
He took her face in both his hands. “Don’t you know, my sweet?
Don’t you know?
”
“Hallo, you two!” Becky said, popping her head in at the doorway.
“Becky—come join us.” Felicia smiled welcomingly at her friend, who she could see was clothed in a worn but serviceable brown riding ensemble.
“Ah, later perhaps. I mean to go up and look in on Scott,” she said.
“Good, for I’d wager a monkey you are the only thing that will keep him from wandering about. When I left him he looked as though he had plans to break the rules.”
Becky laughed. “Right then, madcap, off I go. Wish me luck, for he can be quite stubborn.”
“Can’t he though,” agreed Felicia.
“What is that you say? Is that the pot calling the kettle …?” Becky was off.
Ashton laughed as they waved her off, and he turned back to Felicia and said in a low, husky voice, “Now, what were we saying?”
She allowed him fluttering lashes and a playful smirk. He laughed out loud and took hold of her shoulders. “You devil, you!”
“Am I—a devil, you say?” she bantered and laughed.
“Indeed you are.” He sighed. “You know, I don’t want to put a damper on your plans, but once we get you settled, we will have to inform your guardian of your whereabouts. It is only fair.”
“Fair? He didn’t care about me or my affairs until only recently … I don’t see …”
“Ah, but, perhaps you are wrong. Perhaps there was a reason?”
She frowned. “Perhaps, but I don’t mean to write him until I have reached my majority and have control of my affairs.” She shrugged and eyed him quizzically. “By that time, you shall be back to your own life and busy with your own affairs.”
His gaze was like molten lava as his hands took hers. “Sweet beauty,
you
are my own affair.”
From the doorway someone stomped a foot!
* * *
Lady Daphne had not heard what her brother and the young lady whose hands were in his had just said to one another, but upon seeing him apparently well and comfortable, her outrage knew no bounds.
She stomped her foot hard as she viewed the scene with growing indignation. Her hands went to her hips as she strode forward, stopped, and stomped her foot again. She exclaimed in outraged accents, “Well! And so my brother has taken to the role of duke, has he, and is so far above all others that he forgets his duty? Is this the duke, the all-incomparable duke doing whatever he wants regardless who he leaves floundering? So, I have found you!”
The duke, who rarely became flustered, appeared momentarily stunned, which pleased his sister as she folded her arms across her chest and made a show of just how she felt at that moment.
Daphne gazed at the young woman at his side, and her eyes narrowed. The girl appeared to be young, far too young for her libertine brother. Just what was he doing? This was worse, so much worse than she had surmised. She could see that the girl was startled by her entrance, and well she should be. Where was her duenna?
“Daffy!” her brother said as he apparently had found his voice. “What are you doing here?”
This outraged her ladyship to the point of spluttering incoherently. “
What am I doing here?
” she returned as she then took to wagging a finger at him, much as she had when they had been youths. “How dare you! Let me tell you that I have spent the most dreadful days of my life on your infamous errand. Dutifully, obediently, I went to Easton to meet and care for
your ward
. Did you keep your promise? Did you come? No, and what must I find?” She stopped there to recoup, and she could see the young lady eyeing her with keen interest at this point, but she was heedless of the girl’s presence. Her nerves were frazzled beyond logical consideration. She meant to have at her brother regardless of an audience.
He frowned. “I do beg your pardon, Daffy, did you not get my letter?”
“
Your letter?
What do I care for your letter? We have a situation, I tell you, and one I have been at pains to scotch.”
“What are you saying?” he puzzled at her, but as he reached to touch her shoulder she yanked away from any contact.
“Do not touch me, you dreadful, dreadful boy. You may be a duke, but you are still my younger brother and have ill-used me.”
“Daffy … do be calm and tell me—”
“Be calm, he says,” she told the young woman eyeing her with keen interest. “He does that well, does he not?”
The young woman apparently had nothing to say on the matter, and Daffy once again looked her up and down before turning back to her brother. “Well, your ward has run away!” She eyed him, satisfied with the shock that froze his features. “That’s right. There I was with this squire berating me as apparently she has run off with his son, and God alone knows where they have gone. I thought they must have eloped, but he says they are like brother and sister, so what was to be done? Did you arrive to help me?
No,
you did not … because here you are having a jolly good time, while scandal threatens at the door.”