Sharon Sobel (21 page)

Surely the excitement of the moment completely distracted her senses, for she thought she would enjoy it immensely. She smiled, wondering what great credit the invisible Mr. Knighton would demand when the success of his cure would be published and how she could not dispute it. Mr. Queensman, reading the open book of her face, gently touched her chin, and raised her face to his.

“Do not even think it, Lark.”

She blinked, blinded by the sun and the brilliance of his eyes.

“I have feared the great moment would belong to you, Mr. Queensman, when you would expose me for all to see. Do not deny you have thought of doing so, even from the beginning of our acquaintance, and have taunted me with your
knowledge. Why do you not choose this moment yourself and amaze the whole beach with your cleverness?”

“I would not steal anyone’s praise, for surely everyone awaits us to applaud you as the day’s heroine.”

“Your honor is inviolate, it would seem.”

“I prefer to leave a discussion of my honor out of this.”

A wave pushed her forward, and she once again found a stronghold on Mr. Queensman’s warm body. He bent slightly and scooped her up.

“And why is that, sir?” Lark asked huskily.

“I have other things on my mind at the moment. And none of them are particularly honorable.”

“Please tell me what they are, Ben.” Lark closed her eyes, wanting nothing so much as to hear his confession, his admission that he wanted her as much as she wanted him, his protestations of love. She opened her lips, ever so slightly, and waited for what must surely come.

“There is an intent of evil here,” he said.

Lark’s eyes opened at once. “You recognized the men in the sailboat?”

He nodded briefly.

“Martha Gunn has been struck down, and any one of the rest of you might have been injured. Someone hoped to do mischief—or worse—and it would greatly satisfy my curiosity to know the reason for it.”

“Why does it matter?” Lark asked bluntly. “The stone whizzed just under my nose, and yet I am not half so interested as you in the matter.”

He looked down at her, and his expression softened. He raised one dripping finger to trifle with the tip of her nose.

“Perhaps I am feeling proprietary.”

Lark squirmed to free herself. “Though you regrettably exercise some power over me, no part of my body belongs to you, sir!”

“A pity,” he said, angering her more. “But I was speaking of my hospital and beach, not of your beautiful self.”

“And yet neither seems in any danger. Nor, come to think on it, do I. You may release me, sir. I shall make my own way to the beach, even if I have to crawl all the way to get there.”

“My dear lady. I ran through bramble and over rocks to reach
you. I abandoned a perfectly good worsted jacket and new cravat on the wet sand and have ruined my favorite pair of boots in the water. I have also been standing here clutching your immodestly dressed person, compromising my integrity as a physician and yours as a respectable lady. At least allow me the privilege of rescuing you so I might make some attempt to redeem myself.”

“I do not need rescuing.”

“I did not say you did. I said only I needed to rescue you.”

“You are utterly selfish, sir, and completely self-serving.”

“Perhaps I am. But I should think a lady who has managed to deceive her whole family and a very concerned fiancé ought to consider such remarks carefully.”

During the course of this nasty interview, Mr. Queensman managed to make a good deal of progress towards shore. Over her shoulder, Lark heard the excited cries of those already on land and knew she wished to say a good deal to this arrogant man, but did not have the time to do so.

“I have done nothing but consider my actions in recent days, sir. In fact, I am of a good mind to give myself up to Lord Raeborn, if for no other reason than to thwart you in your lofty expectations.”

Amazingly, Mr. Queensman broke into gleeful laughter, and his body shook with it.

“Excellent idea, my darling! Your timing is fortuitous. When Raeborn arrives, in two or three days’ time, I shall hand you over myself.”

Lark struggled again. “It is not your place to do so,” she retorted angrily. “When I accept the man I shall marry, I shall walk directly into his arms.”

As other hands caught her from behind and wrapped her in warm, dry blankets, Mr. Queensman managed to get in the final word, for she thought she heard him say, “Then I hope for his sake it is not Raeborn, for you will surely knock him over.”

L
ord Raeborn put down his empty sherry glass and reached for the half-filled bottle before Ben could serve him. With a shaking hand, the elderly man poured out his portion and then settled back into his comfortable chair, apparently intent upon the draperies.

“I had no idea the family was so comfortably settled here at Seagate,” he admitted. “When my cousin—your worthy father—abandoned life in London to take up with his little missy here at Brighton, we thought him making a considerable sacrifice in the name of love.”

“Do remember you are speaking of my mother, my lord. And my maternal grandfather was the Earl of Doverfield, a considerable landowner in these parts. The lands and house you see here were given to my parents as a wedding gift, and my father spent the rest of his life improving upon it.”

“There now, I meant no offense, boy. But you must see how unfavorably Brighton compares to London.”

“I am afraid I do not, my lord. Nor, I believe, does our king.”

“Ah, yes. I am invited to the Royal Pavilion this week, did you know? The king requests your presence as well.”

Ben put his glass down on the mantelpiece, though he had hardly touched the drink at all.

“Did he ask for me specifically, my lord?”

Lord Raeborn looked confused. “I am not at all certain. Just said to bring my young cousin, or something of the sort. He cannot know you, can he?”

“Only slightly,” Ben said. He usually was very discreet about his relationship with those at the Pavilion, a preference the king shared. “Perhaps he meant your lady.”

Raeborn laughed. “Indeed, we are somewhat related on her mother’s side, though I am not certain of the particulars. But I am sure he meant you.”

“Very well, my lord. We will wait upon his word.”

Raeborn grunted his assent and finished what remained in his glass. As Ben came forward with the bottle, his elderly cousin waved him off.

“Enough. I have drunk too full of it already, and we have much to discuss.”

Ben felt a dull, aching pain in his breast, as if the weight of a hundred bricks rested upon him.

“Indeed. I know you have not journeyed all this way for the sole purpose of admiring my properties.”

“And yet it does me well to see them, my boy! I feared you had not already married because you did not possess enough to tempt a good woman. I am happy to see you so settled.”

Ben felt the gentle slap of his cousin’s reproof.

“I am very busy with my work at the hospital, my lord. If I have not married, it may be because I have not tried very hard to find someone.”

“Then I am right to worry about you. I would caution you not to make the same mistakes as I have. Dallying about while all the prime maids are sacrificing themselves to other men and stocking their nurseries.”

Ben did not like to think of beautiful, spirited Lark in such a mercenary role, though for the last few days he felt she deserved some sort of lesson. But marriage to Raeborn ought not be it.

“I have hardly been dallying, what with all my endeavors at the hospital. And I should not wish any lady to sacrifice herself for nothing more than the perpetuation of the family name.”

Raeborn said nothing for so long that Ben thought he might have fallen asleep. Or worse. But he suddenly looked up and studied Ben, allowing him to glimpse a weariness and longing.

“I would have liked a son,” Raeborn surprised him by saying.

“I think it is the fondest wish of every man.”

“If I had a son, I fancy he would have been very much like yourself.”

“I am honored you think so, my lord. The newness of our relationship would ordinarily preclude such a judgment.”

“And yet everything I now know about you is very encouraging. I am somewhat worried about your unmarried state, to
be sure. But if you succeed in improving upon that situation anytime soon, I should be very proud and satisfied to have you as my heir.”

Ben coughed down his sherry. Surely Raeborn had not come to Seagate to discuss his expectations, slender as they were. The woman Raeborn intended to marry sat not three miles off, waiting to know her fate.

“My lord, is it not your intention to marry Lady Larkspur and produce an heir of much closer relationship than I? I am flattered you consider me in such a light, but I truly own no designs upon your title or properties.”

Raeborn gave a snorting sound and shot Ben a look of pure disbelief.

“You may believe me, my lord,” Ben said quietly.

“If I do, it is only because you have not been brought up in town. Such sentiments there are rare, and never believed,” Raeborn pronounced and tapped his head. “But you are right to wonder as to my intentions regarding the lady. I hope, by the way, she still lives?”

If Ben ever doubted his cousin’s affections towards Lark, he knew he now understood the situation as well as she.

“She not only lives, but is being hailed as a heroine in local circles. Not three days ago she saved the life of Martha Gunn, the famous dipper. She risked her own life to do so.”

“Then she is well … and healthy?”

Ben knew he stood at the edge of a precipice. Nothing ailed the beautiful lady but a waspish tongue and a willful disposition. But to pronounce her well would be to condemn her to a loveless marriage to a man who would barely begin to understand her. Her spirit would be stifled, her soul burdened.

And he could not bear to be the agent of her unhappiness, for to do so would be to bring the same punishment upon himself. He loved her, more than he had ever loved anyone or anything in his entire life.

“She is not, my lord,” he lied. “She may display a burst of uncommon energy and always has her wits about her, but she does not leave her chair. I have accompanied her on several outings and have had to carry her about.”

Raeborn looked him up and down, and Ben wondered if he had already revealed too much.

“Have you, indeed? Even a tallish thing like the chit should pose no burden for a great strapping lad like yourself. But is my lady comfortable with the arrangement?”

Ben put a hand up to his neck and loosened his cravat.

“She is uncomfortable with her frailty, my lord. Nothing more. She is indifferent to me as anything but an attending physician.”

“I see. Then perhaps I shall take her as she is.”

Ben’s hand froze in midair. “Is that not contrary to your hopes and expectations? Or have I misunderstood your feelings in that regard?”

“You misunderstood nothing, my boy. But I have had a considerable change of heart in recent weeks. I realize I am satisfied in naming you as my heir and am not entirely happy with the notion of a tiny Raeborn bawling at all hours of the night and getting underfoot. And if I might mention a subject to you entirely in your medical capacity, I am not at all sure I retain the … ah … energy to beget an heir.”

Ben cleared his throat. “If such is the case, why is Lady Larkspur’s health of importance to you, my lord? If you set her aside now, no one will think ill of you for doing so. And the lady will bear her disappointment as she must.”

Raeborn nodded thoughtfully. “Yes, I suppose it would break her heart. After all, recall her agony when that Moore fellow abandoned her. I could not be so indifferent to a lady’s feelings.”

“You are very honorable, my lord.”

“Of course. But I am not without vanity. Therefore, I have decided I would very much like a wife to mourn me after I am gone, to see to the appropriate pomp at my funeral. Though you are a good boy, I cannot expect you to remain in gloom when you have just come into a title and a fortune. Most men would consider it the happiest day of their lives.”

Ben waited to hear more, some explanation of what all this meant. But Raeborn settled back again, obviously satisfied that all was clear.

“I am sorry, my lord. I am not certain I understand.”

“Has the sherry gone to your head? I hope you do not drink before a surgery or examination! There is nothing so complicated about it: I wish for a wife to provide comfort for
me in my old age and after I am gone. I am quite settled on you as my heir and care not if my lady provides one.” Raeborn emphasized each point with a slap on the arm of his chair. Outside, in the hall, footsteps passed at the door; surely the housekeeper thought the furniture was being dismantled.

“You reveal a very practical nature, my lord. You wish for a lady who will be as excellent a widow as she would be a wife,” Ben said thoughtfully. “Then why, under such circumstances, do you remain fixed on Lady Larkspur? Surely another lady—possibly even an older lady—would do as well.”

Raeborn waved his hand dismissively. “Perhaps as well, but not nearly so convenient. I already have Lady Larkspur in hand, and she suits me. She is of excellent family and amuses me. You may not have noticed her form or features, but she owns a stirring sort of beauty.”

“I have noticed, my lord.”

“I am glad to learn you are not entirely absorbed in your books and work. Therefore, you can appreciate my next concern. When you are head of the family, I should like for you to guide her. She will be attractive to fortune hunters, and may wish to remarry. You must convince her of the sacred responsibilities of widowhood.”

Ben raised a questioning brow.

“Is that not your job, my lord?”

“As her husband, my job is to make her happy. As my heir, your job is to make sure she is not.”

Ben studied the carpet, not wanting his cousin to see his smile. If his job was only to make Lark unhappy, he should do very well. He had so much practice at the sport already.

“When will I see her?” Raeborn demanded.