The Reluctant Duke (A Seabrook Family Saga) (21 page)

The guests had
arrived yesterday. To Wentworth’s surprise his mother had only invited her
sister and her husband, Mr. and Mrs. Wilmington and their two daughters,
Victoria and Vanessa, and one son, William. His mother explained she wanted
this to be a family affair. She would not tolerate any gossip on the day of her
son’s nuptials.

The story about
him and Emma played out over and over again in the gossip rags for days after
the Boonevilles’ soirée. Thomas had personally gone to Whitehall to invite the
prince to his wedding. The Prince Regent had expressed his disappointment in
his choice of bride. He’d had high hopes Thomas would wed the Earl of Lennon’s
daughter. Nonetheless, he agreed to attend. However, word arrived earlier this
morning of his inability to attend due to illness.

“Ahhh,” Thomas
sighed with regret. Sebastian was not present either. His mother had not
mentioned Thomas’s brother, but he knew she was thinking about him, missing
him.

And it was his
fault his brother was in America.

Giles entered
the duke’s bedchamber and shoved open the drapes, letting the warm sunshine
seep in through the glass. Thomas watched the dust motes dance around and hoped
he would be able to dance with his bride later in the day.

His trusted
valet walked over and looked at him, his face etched with concern.

“Your Grace,
are you well? You look positively gray.”

“My damn side,”
Thomas hissed. “Someone shoot me and make this pain go away.”

“This pain has
lingered far too long. May I send for the family physician?”

“Just help me
into the tub. It’ll go away; it always does.”

Giles nodded
his head, clearly not happy with this course of action. Thomas forced himself
to relax in the tub as the hot water soothed his side and all the other muscles
and tendons that tightened up whenever the pain became unbearable.

Closing his
eyes, he focused away from the pain. He envisioned the night to come…undressing
Emma slowly, taking his time, tasting every inch of flesh as it was exposed to
him…until she’d stand before him in all her naked beauty. Thomas gasped.

Not a good sign
that when his cock grew in length and hardened in response to thoughts of his
wedding night, his side began to burn even more. He hissed through clenched
teeth and made a deal with God. If He let him get through today, pain free, he
would seek a doctor on the morrow.

Thomas wanted
their wedding to be the most memorable day of Emma’s life. He wanted everything
to be perfect. She deserved no less. She certainly deserved better than him.
But she would have him, this day, for better or for worse.

***

Later, dressed
in formal attire and standing in the chapel at Stony Cross Manor, Thomas stood
pale and perspiring. The pain had peaked and suddenly diminished and he felt
tremendous relief.

Amesbury and
Myles stood on either side of him as he waited for Emma to come down the aisle.
The local magistrate, Squire Rosenberg, stood at the altar, waiting with prayer
book in hand.

Thomas was
surprised to find he was utterly calm. And besides a little twitch here and
there his side
had
settled down. Family and guests were seated, except
for Amelia, Bella, and Emma. His sisters would lead his bride down the aisle.

The organist
his mother hired began to play and Thomas’s breath paused inside his lungs as
he looked past his sisters to where Emma stood. He suddenly felt weak, as if he
might keel over. If his knees were not locked, he was sure he would have
dropped to the ground.

Emma was a
vision of innocence and loveliness in her pale, ice-blue silk gown that hugged
her bosom and her narrow waist, and then fell in delicate folds to the floor.
She carried one beautiful, long-stemmed white rose with white and blue ribbons
cascading down. Thomas’s body shivered, drawing Amesbury’s and Myles’s
questioning looks. He shrugged and looked back at Emma, floating toward him.

Halfway through
the ceremony his skin began to drip sweat and his side and stomach did not so
much hurt as feel numb. Concentrating became difficult as the world around him
blurred, and he blinked rapidly trying to clear it. Somewhere, out of the
turmoil happening inside his body and mind, Thomas heard the squire pronounce
them man and wife. Cheers from family and friends found Emma taking his arm and
turning him so they could walk down the aisle.

“Thomas, is
something wrong?” His new bride’s voice drifted into his mind. It sounded as
though it came from some place far, far away. Try as hard as he could, his
mouth would not work. He could not for the life of him answer her.

Chills snaked
up his spine and he shivered, his teeth chattering. His feet stuck to the floor.
His body swayed; at least Thomas thought it did because the room started to
revolve around him faster and faster, until he closed his eyes to block it out.

Then he heard
voices calling his name, coming from some far off region.

Then nothing at
all.

Profound
blackness enclosed him in a dark and threatening shroud from which some part of
him knew there was no escape.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Emma’s heart
lurched into her throat as Thomas collapsed to the ground at her feet.
Fortunately, her hands, along with Myles’s and Amesbury’s had broken his fall.
During the quick ceremony she had thought he looked pale and she noticed
moisture beads on his forehead and on his upper lip.

Several times
Emma heard Thomas moan and he had swayed slightly. When they recited their
vows, his voice sounded weak and his eyes seemed unfocused. It was obvious he
was unwell––so unwell that when the ceremony ended her new husband fainted at
her feet.

It only took a
moment for Emma’s new mother-in-law to snap out commands. “Norwich, Amesbury!
Carry Your Grace to his room. Amelia, fetch Giles and have him send a footman
for the doctor with strict instructions not to come back without him.”

Thomas’s mother
paused only when the two gentlemen struggled with his unconscious body.

“Isabella, go
fetch two footmen to help carry your brother upstairs.” Then she clapped her
hands. “Come now, we must hurry.”

***

Carrying an
unconscious Wentworth was more difficult then Myles anticipated. It was as if
the duke weighed twice what he actually did. Once they had him in his bed,
Giles removed Thomas’s boots, neckcloth, jacket, and waistcoat and unbuttoned
several buttons at the top of his linen shirt. Not once did Wentworth open his
eyes.

When they moved
him he made sounds as if he were in terrible pain. Which Myles had no doubt he
was, because even unconscious, his friend’s face twisted in agony.

“Damn,” he
swore. “First Amesbury and now Wentworth.”

Giles tried to
clear the room, but there was no way in bloody hell Myles was leaving until the
doctor arrived to take over. He’d never seen his friend look like this, as if
he were at death’s door.

It seemed an
eternity for the three-quarters of an hour to tick by until the doctor arrived.
The doctor was elderly, in his late fifties, with a full head of white hair and
compassionately composed features.

“I would like
to examine, Your Grace…privately,” the doctor said as he walked them to the
door.

 “If you don’t
mind, doctor,” Amesbury replied, “my friend and I would prefer to stay––in case
you need help moving him.” The doctor looked to the elder duchess who nodded
her approval and left with her daughters.

“As you wish,”
the doctor shrugged and concentrated on examining the duke. After several
minutes he paused. “Can either of you tell me what happened?”

Myles cleared
his throat. “He collapsed. But I must say that for the past several weeks he
has been having pain in his stomach and side. Some days he would be fine, while
other days he’d be sick and vomiting. He refused to have it looked at. Thought
it was nerves and would go away.” Myles frowned at the serious expression on
the doctor’s face. “Obviously he was wrong.”

“His appendix
needs to come out,
now
. I fear it may have burst already and is
poisoning his body as we speak. He cannot be moved. I will perform the
procedure here.”

Myles stepped
out into the hall, his legs heavy as if weighed down with bricks. He gathered
his thoughts carefully as he faced the Seabrook women and Giles. Desperate,
they all eyed him for news.

“It’s his
appendix. The doctor needs to remove it immediately.” As the family and staff
reacted with shock and concern, Myles handed the dowager duchess a list. “Can
you gather these things together? He needs two people to help him inside.”

Amesbury came
up behind Myles looking pale and shaky, definitely not able to assist the
doctor.

“I’ll help,”
Myles murmured. He looked at Emma. “Will you?”

***

Emma swallowed,
but still the bile rose up inside her mouth. “Yes, just give me a moment to
change.”

 “I’m coming in
as well,” Thomas’s mother insisted. “After all, he is my son.”

Ten minutes
later, Emma placed a chloroform-soaked cloth over her husband’s mouth and nose.
Even though Thomas was unconscious, the doctor did not want him waking up
during the surgery. Tears streamed down Emma’s face, making it impossible the
see things clearly, which was a good thing when she glimpsed the blood-soaked
towels hitting the floor a few minutes later.

Her husband’s
blood, blood he needed to survive.

Bowing her
head, Emma prayed to God.
Please don’t let him die. Please don’t let him die
.
She prayed over and over, until it was the only thing she could think about.
Time was suspended; she had no idea how long the doctor worked on her beloved.

And yes, she
did think of Thomas as her beloved. Emma knew she loved him with all her heart,
her soul, and every fiber of her being. She prayed she’d have the chance to
tell him. . .

“My dear.” Her
mother-in-law’s voice penetrated her foggy mind, and the feel of the dowager’s
cool hand on her shoulder snapped her back to reality. “The surgery is over.
His Grace is resting. Let us leave the room so the doctor can clean up.”

Emma walked arm
in arm with her to the door. When they re-entered the hall they were
unrelentingly pummeled with one question after another. She thanked God Myles
and Thomas’s mother answered all the questions. She had no words beyond her
prayers.

Thomas’s mother
explained that the doctor had removed the diseased appendix, which was leaking
poison into Wentworth’s body. All there was to do now was wait…and pray
infection did not set in. They were to clean and change his dressing and dose
him with laudanum every four hours for pain. They were also to keep Wentworth
in bed and make him as comfortable as possible.

As the
directions penetrated Emma’s mind she nodded her head. She could do all those
things.

If not called
back sooner, the doctor promised to return in the morning and left, carrying
his valise. If His Grace worsened they were to send for him immediately. Emma
vaguely remembered asking to be alone with her husband.

Emma approached
the bed, her hand resting on her stomach and her heart pounding in her chest.
She stared down at Thomas, her love. Her knees buckled as she sank down into a
chair by the bedside. Her body quivered. It hurt to see Thomas lying in bed,
pale, weak, and sleeping an unnatural sleep.

He truly did
not resemble the vibrant, larger-than-life man she had fallen in love with. His
helplessness plagued her. What could she do to help him? How did she keep him
from getting an infection? Too many things swirled in Emma’s mind, overloading
her senses. She rested her head on the side of his bed. Her eyes fluttered
closed and her breathing steadied and slowed as she drifted into an exhausted
and worried sleep.

“Emma, my dear,
wake up.” She fought the voice calling to her, but it was no use. It would not
go away.

Where was
she?

Disorientated,
she lifted her head, sat up, and stretched her arms over her head to work out
the stiffness. The sun had set, turning the room into near darkness. One oil
lamp illuminated Thomas’s body lying still as death in his huge bed. He
appeared small and frail, when in reality he was anything but. She fought down
the scream forming inside her lungs.

This is no
dream.

“I’m awake,”
she choked out as she noticed her new mother-in-law standing at the foot of her
son’s bed. Her features appeared washed out with worry. “Has he awoken yet?”

Thomas’s mother
shook her head slowly from side to side. “No.”

“How long did I
sleep?” Emma asked, trying to get a handle on the time.

“Two hours. It
is half-past-eight in the evening. You should get something to eat. I will stay
with my son.”

“I don’t think
I could eat anything.”

“I understand,
my dear, but you must keep up your strength. You will be no good to your
husband otherwise. I have the feeling he will need you in the days to come.”
She did not like the ominous sound of the dowager’s voice.

 Pushing off
the side of the bed, Emma stood up and stretched out her sore and stiff body.
“I’ll go get something.” She shuffled to the open door then turned back, her
heart barely beating. “Please, will you send for me if he wakes?”

 His mother
promised she would. Walking down the stairs, Emma heard quiet voices coming
from the drawing room. Upon entering, she eyed Amelia and Bella sitting side by
side on the velvet settee. Myles and Amesbury sat leaning forward on chairs
facing them. A table covered with a tray of chilled meats, cheeses, and fruits
and a tea service sat between them.

“May I join
you?” she asked, suddenly feeling like an intruder.

“Please do.”
Myles said, while he and Amesbury stood and waited until she took a seat next
to Bella on the settee.

When they were
settled, Amesbury asked, “How is he?”

Emma swallowed
and tried to ignore the fear and worry on his face––on all their faces. “The
same as before; he has not woken up yet.” Then so many questions pelted her
from every direction she did not know who asked what.

“Is that
normal?”

“Does he have a
fever?”

“Does he still
moan in his sleep like he’s in pain?”

“Do you think
he’ll get an infection?”

“What did the
doctor give him for medicine?”

Emma covered
her ears and shook her head, helpless. “I don’t know. I don’t know anything.”
She sucked in a sob, then gave up and lowered her head into her hands and
cried.

“Emma…” Bella
wrapped her arms around Emma and held her gently. “Go ahead and cry. You
deserve it. Myles, would you be so kind as to pour our Emma a cup of tea, with
milk and two sugars?”

Emma pulled
herself together, took the handkerchief Amesbury offered her, dried her tears,
and blew her nose. She forced herself to sit up straight and sip the tea Myles
handed her in a lovely china cup.

“I’m sorry. I’m
usually not one for such teary eyes.”

Myles nodded
his head. “No need to apologize. You should have seen the four of us; we were
watering pots earlier. We could have flooded an entire flowerbed with our
tears.”

A smile tugged
at the corners of her mouth. “Leave it to you, Myles, to lighten the mood.
Thank you. It helps.”

He held up a
plate of fruit. “You should eat.”

She shook her
head. “No, I can’t. The tea tastes good, though. It soothes my nerves. I’ve
never felt so useless. Instead of watching over Thomas, I slept. Some nursemaid
I make,” she murmured over the top of her teacup.

“Don’t be hard
on yourself; it has been a long day,” Bella said. “Before you came in we were discussing
how one moment everything is fine in one’s life, and then it changes without
warning. It leaves us sitting around, waiting, wondering, knowing nothing we do
will change anything. Being useless is not something any of us do well. We want
to know we’re needed. Unfortunately, in this case, we wait and pray he wakes up
fever-free, pain-free, and infection-free.” She sucked in air and sighed
deeply. “Bloody hell, I hate this.”

“Bella,” Amelia
gasped, “such language coming from you. In front of mixed company, no less.”

“Don’t mind us.
We’ve heard worse.” Amesbury chuckled. “In fact, your brother has the foulest
mouth of any gentleman I know.”

“Really?” Bella
asked, leaning forward. “Do tell some of his favorites so I can use them to
blackmail him if he tries to marry me off to someone I despise.”

“I don’t think
you have to worry about that.” Myles grinned. “Your brother has admitted to me
that he hopes you will marry for love.”

Bella beamed.
“Marry for love… Since when did he become such a romantic?”

Myles glanced
directly at Emma. His eyes softened. “Since he himself fell in love.”

Is it true?
Had Thomas admitted to Myles that he loved her? Emma’s heart pounded with
elation. And how could Bella and Myles carry on a conversation about Bella
marrying someone for love when they both knew Bella loved Myles?

“I don’t
believe he confided his feelings for me to you,” Emma spoke up. “Do not you
gentlemen guard your true feelings like the royal guards guard the Crown
Jewels?”

That had Myles
smiling. “Yes, well, it is true we don’t like to discuss certain, ahh . . .
personal . . . things. But the three of us have been together since our first
days at Eton, and sometimes even men need to talk.” Myles raked his hands
through his hair. “I can’t honestly remember if he said anything about love,
except any fool can see he loves you deeply. All one has to do is look at his
eyes when he is looking at you. It is there as plain as tea leaves in a pot of
tea.”

“Thank you for
your honesty,” Emma said as she sipped her warm tea. “Please, will all of you
excuse me?”

She rose and
took her leave, meandering up the stairs and down the hall to her husband’s
bedchamber. Pausing outside the closed door, she let her heart fly with elation
over the possibility that her husband did indeed love her. Perhaps one day soon
he would tell her. And then she could shower him with her love in return.

Before that
time could come, however, they had to get through the next few days. Emma wrung
her hands and steeled herself to be strong for him. He needed her now, and she
would not disappoint him.

Upon her
approach to his bedside, nothing seemed to have changed. Her husband still
slept on his back, the covers drawn up to his chest and his breathing still
slow and steady as before. A deep relief washed through her body. His coloring
was pale, not tinged pink with fever.

“Your Grace.”
Emma placed her hand lightly on the duchess’s shoulder. “You should retire for
the evening. You must be exhausted. It was a long and tiring day. I will stay
with my husband for the duration of the night.”

Her
mother-in-law patted the hand that still rested on her shoulder. The contact
warmed Emma.