Too Hot For A Rake (16 page)

“I’m sorry for my outburst, Father, but Georgiana…”

The duke waved his hand in a gesture of dismissal. “You may go, Edward. On your way out, be sure to close the door gently instead of slamming it as you did on your poor sister Jane. Oh, and one more thing,
my lord
. Be so good as to ask Dunston to send Georgiana to me.”

Waverley Castle

Helena sat by Waverley’s bed and watched his restless, sleeping form. She wiped his brow with a cool cloth from time to time, relieved to discover that he wasn’t feverish. Alone with her thoughts, she couldn’t help but dwell on the events leading up to the duel. She had such mixed feelings concerning them. It was Waverley’s foolhardy decision to try to delope, but clearly, he meant it to please her. If he hadn’t raised his arm into the air, he would have died. He was alive, but she blamed herself nevertheless.

What of Glynhaven’s role in this sorry affair? How could he not have known that Saltash was bringing Madame Z and her tarts to the ball? What made him think she would accept his proposal of marriage? Maybe she should have heeded Waverley’s anger at the invitation. The Earl of Glynhaven was no friend to the Marquis of Waverley. Foolish of her to think otherwise, but how could she have known how much bad blood ran between them?

Mr. Cullum, Waverley’s secretary, had brought her the news that the dishonorable Lord Saltash had fled to France to avoid arrest for having pulled the trigger before the count of three. He had reported that Saltash had taken his French friends with him.

Waverley moaned. She glanced at the clock on the mantel. It was almost midnight. She picked up the light sheet covering him. He’d bled through the dressing. She rose to summon Rabu to help her, but he was already at her side. In silence, they turned the marquis on his right side to allow her to remove the bloodied dressing. Rabu washed the wound carefully, after which she applied fresh ointment and rewrapped the wound in clean dressing.

She prepared another dose of laudanum and held it to Waverley’s lips while Rabu raised his head. He never woke, but in a few minutes, his labored breathing eased and he ceased his moans. Helena beckoned Rabu to follow her to the door, where the patient could not hear her words. “I shall leave you now, for I must rest, but there is a footman posted outside the door. Send for me if you find you need my help with his lordship.”

“Yes, your la’sheep. Sleep well, your la’sheep.” He giggled, but his heart wasn’t in it.

Monday, the Fourth of May, 1818

The marquis woke to find his secretary at his bedside. “If you’re here, Rupert, it’s clear that I’m still alive.”

“You are, sir, I’m thankful to say. How do you feel?”

Waverley ignored his question. “Where is Saltash?”

“I’m told his lordship and his party left right after the duel.”

“He took the lot of them home to Devon?”

“No, sir. His lordship escorted his French…er…guests back to Paris.”

The marquis frowned. “How came you by this information, Rupert?”

His secretary grinned. “I make it my business to have such information ready when you inquire.”

“Which means?”

“Which means your duel has become legend hereabouts. You’re a hero to the Cornish, sir.”

“So soon? Oh, well. I suppose I should be grateful that I am not the villain in this melodrama.”

The young man’s eyes danced. “Far from it, sir. The villain is an outsider from Devon. What could be worse?”

Waverley grinned. “Bless you, Rupert, for having such a wry sense of humor.” He closed his eyes for a moment, then added, “Lady Fairchild must have reached London by now.”

“No, sir. Her ladyship is here.”

Waverley’s brows knit. “I don’t understand. I was under the impression that milady meant to return to London.”

“She’s changed her mind, sir. Her ladyship has been at your bedside changing your dressings and applying liniment to your wounds. Rabu relieves her at midnight.”

“Indeed?” A smile broke from his lips, but it changed quickly into a scowl.
Then she’s in danger and I cannot protect her. That scoundrel Glynhaven orchestrated this whole fiasco. I should have guessed that he was up to some mischief. He’d like nothing better than to destroy me. Old grudges die hard.
“I want you to write a letter for me, Rupert.”

“I’ll fetch my pad, sir. I’ll only be a moment.” He rose and hurried to his office through the connecting door.

Waverley dictated the brief message and stated its direction when Rupert returned. “I leave it to your good judgment to send it to London with the utmost speed.”

“Private messenger is quickest, sir, but costly.”

“Hang the cost, but be discreet, Rupert. Hire someone trustworthy to deliver it. No one else must know of this. Understood?”

“Of course, sir.”

With a sigh of relief, Waverley lay back on his pillow. “What would I do without you, Rupert?”

Usually serious, the young man allowed himself a grin. “Works both ways, sir. What would I do had you not offered me such a fascinating position?”

“Morning, your lordship,” said Dr. Fenwick cheerfully. “I’ve come to have a look at that wound of yours.”

Waverley rubbed the sleep from his eyes. “Morning, sir.”

“Sleep well?” The doctor spread his supplies on the bedside table.

“Like the dead, but I’m not fond of the drug-induced state.”

“Don’t blame you in the least.” He cut the dressing off and examined the wound. “Bleeding’s stopped. No sign of infection, either. All to the good.” He cleaned the wound gently, applied fresh liniment, and bound it.

“When may I resume activities, sir?”

“If you feel up to it, you may leave your bed for a short time today. But remember that you must continue to be cautious until you recover your strength. Nothing too strenuous, mind. No horseback riding, mind you. I recommend short walks when the weather permits. Rest as much as you can. You’ll be fine in a week or two.”

Waverley frowned. “As bad as all that, eh?”

“Actually? Not bad at all.” The doctor could not resist adding, “You have only to consider the alternative, sir.”

Waverley laughed. “I’ll keep that in mind.” He watched the doctor pack his bag. “Thank you, sir. Will you inform Lady Waverley of your instructions?”

“No need for that.” He nodded toward the door between the bedchamber and Waverley’s office. “I’m sure her ladyship’s heard my every word. Come in, ma’am. I’m finished for today.”

“Thank you, Doctor Fenwick,” Helena said, “for allowing me to listen to your instructions. I have only one question. What do you recommend for his lordship’s diet?”

“No restrictions. He may eat what he likes, in small amounts. I’ll be back in the morning. Good day to you both.” He made a courtly bow, then departed.

“Well, Desmond.” Helena sat by his bedside and smiled.

“Well, Helena.” He grinned back at her.

“Have you had your breakfast?”

“Not yet. I want to enjoy it in the morning room. The doctor said I might get out of bed for a time.”

Helena rang for Rabu. “His lordship will take his breakfast in the morning room. I’ll send word to Cook while you help him up. His dressing gown will do.” She turned to Waverley and added, “Mind if I join you?”

“Mind? I dare you to stay away!”

The sun-filled morning room on the second floor faced south, where an unobstructed view of the sea could be had from its windows. The dining chairs were covered in blue and yellow patterned silk matching the draperies. All in all, the room provided a cozy setting much more intimate than the huge formal dining room on the first floor.

Waverley entered on the arm of his valet. The marquis was dressed in casual pants and a shirt open at the neck.

Helena threw up her hands in mock despair. “What’s this? No sooner do I turn my back, you disobey my instructions. I said dressing gown, not morning clothes, Rabu.”

“Don’t blame Rabu, my dear. I chose this, though I could not manage a jacket, as you see. What’s that I smell? Bacon? I’ll have some with my eggs and toast.”

Rabu helped him to a chair and hurried to the sideboard to fix his master’s plate, ignoring the annoyed footman who felt it his place to serve. “At once, your lor’sheep.”

“I thought you went home to London,” Waverley said to Helena, mischief in his voice.

“I decided to remain to see you well again, since I was the cause of your…er…infirmity. Of course, if you prefer, I’ll leave today. Nurse Hubley can see to your recovery.”

He adopted a pained expression and groaned. “No, no. Don’t leave me to such a horrible fate. If you do, I’ll die.”

A quiver of pleasure ran through her, but she did not let on. Instead, she pursed her lips and said, “I was about to enter my carriage when news reached me that you had been wounded.”

“Does that mean…?”

“It means what it means,” she snapped and changed the subject. “Eat small amounts, Waverley. Doctor’s orders.”

He grinned and pushed his plate away. “He’s right. My eyes are bigger than my stomach, it seems. I cannot swallow another bite.” A vision of breakfasting every morning, his wife Helena fussing over him filled him with warmth.

Helena made as if to speak but checked the impulse.

“Something on your mind? What is it?”

“Why did you delope? I’m…
we
are all glad you did, for it saved your life. That vile man was intent on murdering you.”

He reached for her hand. “I did it for your sake.”

“For…for me? What do you mean?”

“You were so against the duel, I thought you’d despise me if I killed the man.”

She rolled her eyes. “Good heavens, Waverley. And did you also believe it would please me if you had died?”

“Would you have mourned me?” His smiling eyes betrayed him.

“That’s nonsense and you know it. At any rate, you’re not dead and you’re not badly wounded. Saltash inflicted only a flesh wound. As soon as you are well enough, I’m going home.”

Reason enough to feign continued illness, my adorable minx. I’ll not let you go home, my love, even if I have to tie you to your bedpost to keep you here.
Aloud, he said, “Rupert informs me that Saltash has fled to France to escape arrest. He said Magistrate Wyndham threatened to prosecute him for attempted murder.”

“He deserves it for his cowardly act,” she said. “Saltash took your French friends back to Paris as well. Shall you miss them?”

“Don’t be cheeky. I had nothing to do with their visit. Are you still angry with me for my wicked past, love?”

“How should I be? It’s your life to do with what you will,” she said, but there was disdain in her voice.

“I’m done with all that, I promise you. You’ve shown me a better way to enjoy life. One I never thought possible. Will you redeem me from my past sins and agree to be my wife?”

She smiled as if she were dealing with a silly child. “You’re delirious, sir. Perhaps a few drops of laudanum in your coffee will bring you to your senses.”

“I was never more serious. Marry me. I love you, my darling.” He paused a moment. “When I faced death, I realized I had but one regret. I was afraid I would never have an opportunity to tell you how much I love you. I almost wished to die, for I thought I had ruined all chance of winning you.”

Helena’s heart sang at his words, but she was saved from the urge to reveal herself to him when Paynter announced a visitor.

“Good morning to you, Waverley,” the Earl of Glynhaven said in a hearty tone. “And to you, ma’am. No, no. Don’t get up from your seat, sir. How are you getting on?”

“The marquis is doing well,” Helena said. She turned to Waverley and added, “The earl has already visited here twice for news of you.”

“How kind,” Waverley murmured in an unconvincing tone.

Glynhaven shook his head in sorrow. “Still weak, I see. I’ve already begged Lady Fairchild’s pardon for the bad manners of my guests. Unforgivable. I had no idea that Saltash would bring with him such a disreputable group of rowdies.”

Oh, didn’t you?
Aloud the marquis said, “That surprises me, Glynhaven. Lord Saltash has a reputation as a degenerate. He’s known for his mischief in Paris. I thought it known all over England as well. Perhaps it never reached your ears.”

He had the satisfaction of seeing the earl’s face color.

Helena hastened to intervene. “Thank you for your visit, my lord, but I must bring it to an end. The marquis needs rest.

Doctor’s orders, you know. May I show you out?”

London: Fairchild House

“Well, puss. What have you to say for yourself?” asked the duke when Georgiana entered the library. “You’ve set the whole household in an uproar in addition to disturbing my peace.” He eyed his daughter with what he hoped was an unforgiving expression. Without much success, as it happened, for this child was most like him, if not in looks, then certainly in temperament.

Fast approaching her debut at the age of seventeen, Lady Georgiana Fairchild was, in a word, stunning. The acknowledged family beauty had perfect features, if her numerous paramours were to be believed. The young lads waxed poetic over her translucent ivory skin, her green eyes ablaze with mischief, her wide, sensuous lips, her dimpled chin, her figure, her walk, her…In short, she was a veritable goddess who overawed her admirers.

Her wild ways, however, were another matter. Disapproving mothers warned their sons to beware such a devil-may-care temptress. Not good wife material, they whispered of her, though by that they meant she would not be an obedient mate for their darling sons. “She will empty your pockets with her gambling ways,” one said. “Just ask your sisters,” another warned. Not the best advice, for their sisters were out of reason jealous of this peerless nymph.

Georgiana took the hand her father proffered and kissed it, but she did not let go. “Never say you’re angry with me, Father.” In one swift motion, she curled up in his lap, put her head on his chest and held his hand to her cheek.

The duke found his daughter’s bewitching ways irresistible. None of his other daughters would dare to behave in such an impertinent manner. He resisted the urge to stroke her hair. “You’re an incorrigible minx, young lady. It was too bad of you to ruin Edward’s boots. Your brother would like nothing better than to rip you apart, you know.”

She giggled. “Serves him right, Father. He’s become a pompous boor. Haven’t you noticed?”

The duke laughed in spite of his resolve to remain stern. “Never mind that. Get off my lap, you disobedient chit, and sit over there while I determine what’s to be done about your imprudence.”

“You can always lock me up in the tower and serve me bread and water for a month or so,” she suggested, smoothing her wrinkled morning gown. She bit her bottom lip and shook her head. “No. That won’t do. For one, we have no tower. And if we did have one, it might make my dear brother positively gloat with so much satisfaction, I couldn’t bear it.”

“Be serious, Georgie. Edward demands satisfaction and he deserves it, don’t you think?”

“All because I ruined his bloody boots? I’ll buy him a new pair.”

The duke raised an eyebrow. “With whose money, may I ask?”

“Will you lend it to me?” The look on her father’s face gave the answer. “Bad idea, hmm? What do you suggest?”

“An apology is due your brother. And you must promise never to repeat your crime again. You know perfectly well that it isn’t proper for you to invade his room and steal his clothing. Can you apologize to him with sincerity?”

A dangerous gleam lit her eyes. “I might, but only if he apologizes to me for having become such an odious stuffed shirt.”

“Then you leave me no choice.” His stern tone brought her up short.

“No choice? What do you mean, Father?”

“First, Edward must report to me that he has received satisfaction from you in the form of a sincere apology. Second, I intend to send your favorite mount back to our stables in Brighton. Third, all our stable hands are under strict orders not to saddle up for you without my permission. They will be sacked without a reference if they disobey. And last, no allowance for a month.”

“Harsh punishment indeed. How long will it last, Father?”

“That’s for me to decide. And don’t attempt to borrow a horse from any of your friends. Until you apologize to your brother, you may not ride at all. Do I make myself clear?”

Waverley Castle

“It’s such a beautiful day, ma’am,” Glynhaven said as he and Helena descended the grand staircase. “Won’t you join me for a stroll in your garden?”

She was caught off her guard, not having time to form a plausible excuse to refuse him. “If it pleases you, sir.”