Dark Hero; A Gothic Romance (Reluctant Heroes) (28 page)

With his heart pounding, Donovan mentally retraced the
events of the day, searching for a logical explanation that would counter an
invisible assailant and any suspicion cast on him for her battered condition.
This seizure had been much more serious than the one she had on the ship. Her
limbs had thrashed violently against the cobblestones. His main concern had
been protecting her head . . . and the bruises were curiously limited to her
posterior. That was it!

In a quiet, steady voice he explained it to Elizabeth, the
hard cobblestones, the intense thrashing of her limbs. She meekly accepted his
explanation without argument or accusation. That made the tightness in his
chest ease a little more. And yet, he saw that she was frightened by his words,
badly frightened, as anyone might be if told they’d slipped into convulsions.

He gave her a sedative for the pain she must be feeling and
talked of inconsequential things as he waited for the medicine to take effect.
He spoke of his Arabian stallion and of the foals due in the spring that had
been sired by his stallion. He asked if she’d ever seen a foaling. Elizabeth
shook her head. She didn’t flinch at the slight movement as she had earlier.

 Satisfied that her pain and her fear were receding, Donovan
turned the conversation back to the matter of her leaving him. “I’ve taken care
of everything you asked of me in the courtyard. The household knows I’m the
count. Giles is your new butler, and I’m hiring a steward to take up the job of
Mr. O’Rourke. From now, on there shall be no more disguises or games between
us. I meant what I said; I love you, and I’ll do whatever I must to prove it.”

“Donovan, I’m sorry . . . please, don’t hate me . . .”

Donovan frowned. Women said the most peculiar things under
the influence of Laudanum, a fellow medical student once confessed to him. He
was finding it to be true.

“He said you’d despise me if . . . you knew what he did to
me . . .”

His mind careened to an abrupt stop for a terrifying moment.
And then a razor sharp fury replaced his earlier bemusement. He leaned over
Elizabeth, his hands pressed flat to the mattress on either side of her
shoulders. “Who said that?” Her excuse of sleepwalking no longer seemed
plausible. “Who told you I’d despise you if I knew what he was doing to you?
Has one of the footmen been trifling with you? Tell me. Was it Elias Jones? I
fired him, but if he hurt you, by God, I’ll make him pay!”

“No . . .” Her grasp on reality was shaky as the opiates
coursed through her. “It was that awful captain—the one who kidnapped me.
Please, don’t hate me—I tried to fight—I bit him. I tried to make him stop!” The
high voice cracked from strain, and then she was weeping softly.

“Oh, Lizzie, sweet Lizzie, what happened wasn’t your fault.”
Donovan countered. He gathered her up in his arms, held her, and whispered
sweet words to her until she fell asleep.

Determination settled upon him. He was not going to lose
Elizabeth.

Not to Jack. And not because of his own churlishness.

Jack was right, he probably didn’t deserve Elizabeth, but
she belonged to him.

He was not losing her, not without a fight.

Chapter
Twenty Four

Elizabeth awakened to find Donovan hovering nearby. She
thought it strange he was not out riding about his estate, as was his habit in
the mornings. After making his rounds he usually spent the rest of his day
cloistered in his laboratory or out in the stables.

His routine was not all that had changed. He wasn’t dressed
as O’Rourke or the malicious count. Today, he was the gentleman planter she
knew from the voyage. A fine lawn shirt replaced the stable master’s worn
cotton. His face was clean shaven, his hair restrained in a neat queue, and he
wore his signet ring again, proof he was indeed the master. A black silk vest
shot with silver, black broadcloth breeches and gleaming top boots completed
his costume.

“You asked me to set aside my disguises.” He said, noting
her surprise at his changed appearance. “I have done so as proof of my
devotion.” Holding his hands out, palms up, he asked, “Does my lady
disapprove?”

“Oh, no! You are very elegant, sir.”

Donovan bowed like an actor at the end of a grand
performance. As he rose, he smiled at her and said, “Now, you must give me
something in return, Madame. I want you to stay in bed today, in fact, for the
remainder of the week.” He walked to the foot of the bed and stood with his hands
on his hips, observing her in his quiet, pensive way. “You’re not well,
Elizabeth.” He chastened, as if expecting an argument.

She didn’t have the energy or inclination to argue. She was
tired of being at sixes and nines with this man all of the time. She was wrong
to share their difficulties with the captain, she realized, as Donovan stood
before her and she examined her situation in the light of a new day. Donovan
should be furious with her. Instead, he was showing a great deal of
forbearance, considering she’d maligned him to his friend and made a terrible
scene on the front drive.

“I’ll do whatever you wish, my lord. I’ll be good from now
on, I promise.”

“You are good!” He chastened in a cheerful mien. “You’re my
good lass and don’t you be thinking otherwise.” Coming around the bed, he sat
beside her and took her hand. “You are also ill, more than you realize. Yet,
I’m told you work to the point of exhaustion, scrubbing along with the maids. I
hired servants to do the work for you, not to try to keep up with you.”

“Well, I did need to train them--“

“That is the housekeeper’s responsibility, not yours.” He
cut off her excuse.

Elizabeth wanted to point out that the housekeeper was
useless by lunch due to her ongoing affair with a rum bottle. The fury in his
eyes reminded her that she was on thin ice with the man. His ire was justified.
It was scandalous for a lady to be caught doing menial chores. Gossip spread
quickly via the servants. If they lived in London tongues would be wagging
about the eccentric countess who washed her own windows and hung her own
curtains.

“Mark me, there will be no more climbing ladders, polishing
furniture or moving it, for that matter.” He lifted her hand and lightly kissed
her knuckles. “From now on, I intend to make certain you don’t lift anything
heavier than a tea cup.”

Chloe came with a breakfast tray. The aroma of hot chocolate
and crisp, salty bacon filled the room. Donovan stood and moved to the veranda
doors. He leaned against the portal, arms crossed about his chest, his back to
the women as he gazed out at the sea.

*******

Dear, sweet Lizzie. Fletcher made her believe she was an
encumbrance to those about her. And her grandmother allowed her to be far too
independent for a young lady. Donovan sighed. He had quite the task before him
if he were tame his headstrong little mare.

Alas, they were not at leisure to work through their marital
difficulties.

Jack was here demanding to see Elizabeth, and this time he
brought armed reinforcements. And so, they were at odds, both knights fighting
for possession of the queen.

He considered his options. Perhaps Jack’s visit could be
turned to his advantage.

With a plan quickly in place, Donovan went to stand at the
foot of the bed, his arms still crossed about his chest. “Don’t dally over your
eggs and rashers, my sweet, we must get you ready to receive your visitor.”

“Oh, not the captain!” She said, taken aback by his
statement.

“Yes. Rawlings is waiting in the salon as we speak.”

“I can’t see him.” She clutched the covers up over her
chest. “Tell him I’m sick.”

“Come now, you keep insisting that you are not. Surely, you
don’t intend to hide behind that flimsy excuse now. I’ll send the captain up
directly.” He stalked to the hall door.

“Please, my lord, if I must see him I prefer that you remain
with me.”

My Lord. Lizzie addressed him thus when she was intimidated.
He turned to face her. She looked frightened. It almost gave him pause. Almost.
He would not be deterred from his objective. He would learn what was going on
between his friend and his wife before the day was out. He steeled himself
against that sweet face and turned to sarcasm to deflect the impact of those
beautiful, wounded eyes. “Rawlings is here to make certain you are being
treated well in my keeping. That being the case, I can hardly stand over you
without it appearing as if I am bullying you into answering in my favor, now
can I?”

“Why would he think that?” She asked, appearing confused by
his statement.

“I don’t know. Perhaps you gave him that impression
yesterday, my dear.”

He left, before he lost his resolve and gathered her in his
arms like a besotted fool.

Donovan met Jack in the salon. After enduring more of the
same arguments from last night, he instructed Giles to escort Jack up to see
Lizzie. Once Jack was upstairs, he had Gus and Ambrose take position in the
salon as a counter to Jack’s two escorts. Thus fortified, he took the servant
stairs to the second floor and entered the veranda through a vacant room. He
crept to the open window. Crouching against the wall, he listened to the pair
on the other side of the window.

 “---believes bed rest for a few days will make all the
difference.”

“Do you agree with him?’ Jack asked.

“He is a doctor. Why wouldn’t I?”

“He could be exaggerating your condition so that you won’t
leave him, Madame.”

“How dare you make such a horrid accusation?” Elizabeth’s
voice echoed outrage. “And Captain, why is my husband convinced I want to leave
him?”

“Yes, ah, I might have embellished a little. It’s a tricky situation,
Madame. If I take you from him without his consent he could have the law sent
after me for kidnapping, regardless of whether you wanted to go or not. So, I’m
blackmailing him, I’m using the fearful reputation he’s cultivated with the
locals against him. I’ve threatened to bring the authorities here if he doesn’t
comply with your wishes and allow you to leave freely—if that is your wish.”

 “How could you do such a wicked thing to him? He must feel
very betrayed.”

 “I was worried about you after you sent me that note.” Jack
defended. “You did say that it was matter of grave importance requiring the
utmost secrecy.”

“For all you knew I could have been seeking your advice on a
Christmas gift.”

“You wouldn’t send such a dire message to me if something weren’t
terribly wrong.”

“That is very kind of you, captain.” Elizabeth fairly
purred. “Donovan thinks I’m a silly, empty-headed girl given to far too much
imagination.”

I do not! Donovan opened his mouth to refute such rubbish,
but caught himself.

“He undoubtedly believes we’re all idiots compared to that
superior intellect.”

“He was so sweet and attentive during the voyage. He changed
as soon as we arrived here. He became moody and distant. I wish that kind man
would come back, but I’m afraid that Donovan doesn’t exist.”

Oh, Lizzie! Donovan closed his eyes, shamed by her
confession.

“He’s been using disguises for years, Madame. I doubt he’ll
be able to give them up.”

“But . . . he promised me he would, last night and again
today!”

“I have him boxed into a corner. He’ll say or do anything to
prevent outsiders from investigating his affairs.” Jack countered. “I need you
to be truthful, my lady, as I may not be able to return so easily after today.
Are you being treated well? Has he hurt you?”

“Captain Rawlings!” Elizabeth chastened. “How could you
imply such a thing?”

“Those bruises on your wrists are reason enough, my lady.”

Donovan held his breath. Elizabeth could damn him or
exonerate him in the next instant.

“Oh . . . He didn’t do this, captain. It’s from the seizure.
He kept my head from hitting the cobblestones, but my limbs are terribly
bruised from the convulsions. I feel as if I’ve been run over by a coach and
four. See, even my elbows are swollen and bruised.”

Jack’s sharp intake of breath betrayed his outrage at the
landscape Lizzie revealed to him.

The fist squeezing Donovan’s heart loosened, allowing him to
breathe a little easier. Lizzie was defending him, and not allowing Jack to
influence her impressions as he’d feared.

“Yes.” Jack hesitated. “I saw it happen. And it looks quite
painful. But I remind you, Madame, yesterday you were vehement that I not speak
to him on your behalf. You gave me to believe you feared he might punish you if
I did so.”

“I didn’t mean physically! And I-I was afraid. I behaved
foolishly. He’s been so angry of late. I didn’t know how he might react if you
spoke to him on my behalf.” Lizzie admitted, taking the blame herself, as was
her habit. “He’s been very sweet to me since then. I didn’t mean to give you
the idea I was in danger, sir.”

“Any young lady would be frightened, living under these
conditions.” Jack responded with indulgence. “Donovan is adept at making others
think he’s on their side. He could be lulling you with false promises due to my
presence. Once I’m gone, you’ll be defenseless here.”

Defenseless! Oh, that’s rich. She’s my wife, you idiot, not
my enemy.

“Captain Rawlings,” Elizabeth scolded. “Had I known you
would come rushing in and attempt to persuade me to run away from my husband, I
never would have sent that note.”

“Why did you send it?”

“I was frightened by his behavior. I needed to know if he
has any mental peculiarities. You assured me he does not. Did you lie when you
assured me he isn’t mad?”

Oh, that was quite big of you, Black Jack. Why didn’t you
just tell her I’m bloody well crazy? It would have suited your purposes and you
could have whisked her away to your lair.