by Leah Conolly
Duncan nodded, feeling a small measure of relief. If the doctor thought she needed bed rest and planned to examine her again in a couple of days, that meant Duncan could keep Christine here with him, where he would be able to keep an eye on her. The idea comforted Duncan, and he allowed himself to relax.
“Thank you, Dr. Johnson,” he said. “Please, allow me to walk you to the door.”
As he closed the door, Duncan spotted his mother creeping toward the stairs. Duncan rushed to stop her.
“Mother,” he said. “I would like you to leave. Miss Becker is in no condition to receive company.”
Helena’s eyes widened in innocence.
“Oh, Duncan,” she said. “I only wish to help the poor young woman. I can sit with her and help should she need anything.”
Duncan shook his head firmly.
“Her maid is here to fetch her anything she needs,” he said, “and I will be checking in on her periodically. Your assistance will not be required.”
Helena’s face fell into a false expression of hurt.
“You do not think me capable of helping a sick girl?” she asked.
Duncan sneered.
“The doctor gave strict instructions for Miss Becker to rest,” he said. “She will rest better with minimal intrusions.”
Helena let her head fall, and she nodded.
“Forgive me,” she said. “Of course, you are right. I am just worried for the poor girl. I will return tomorrow and look in on her.”
Duncan’s anger swelled, and he bit his tongue to keep from raising his voice. His concern just then was for Christine, and he had no time to argue with his overbearing mother. He nodded noncommittally and ushered her out through the front door. He would not allow Helena to see Christine the following day. He knew how poorly his mother treated her, and he did not intend to allow Helena anywhere near Christine.
He was sitting in the library that afternoon, trying unsuccessfully to read a book when there was a soft knock on the door. Duncan set the book down and looked up to see Ruthie peeking timidly into the room.
“Hello, Ruthie,” he said warmly, rising from his seat. “How is Miss Becker?”
Ruthie stopped just inside the door.
“She is asking for you, my lord,” she said quietly.
Duncan rushed to the door immediately.
“I will go to her now,” he said. “Thank you.”
Ruthie nodded shyly in response, stepping out of Duncan’s way so that he could reach the stairs.
When he opened the bedroom door, Christine’s appearance gave him a fresh shock. She looked even frailer than she had that morning, and her eyes were dull, with dark circles forming beneath them. He bit his lip, struggling to keep his dismay from showing on his face.
“Ruthie said you asked for me,” he said, his voice husky with emotion.
Christine nodded weakly.
“I wanted to thank you wholeheartedly for your kindness and hospitality,” she said. “However, I do not wish to impose. I will rest perfectly well in our room at the inn.”
Duncan smiled. Even in her current state, she was thinking of everyone but herself.
“Nonsense,” he said, sitting in the chair beside the bed. He took her hand, which he was disheartened to find was still cold and clammy. “You have done so much for me. Please, allow me this opportunity to help you during your illness.”
Christine looked at him for a moment, her eyes unreadable. Even as ill as she looked, she seemed to be thinking deeply about something. After a moment, she gave a sad smile.
“I suppose you will not be dissuaded,” she said.
Duncan’s smile brightened. Her attempt at humor brought him a little relief.
“You are correct, Miss Becker,” he said. “Besides, the physician will be back in two days to reexamine you and ensure that you are quite well.”
Christine closed her eyes, but she nodded slowly, rather than protesting.
“I am certain that will not be necessary,” she said. “But I will do as you ask, my lord.”
Duncan felt his relief deepen. He did not wish to keep her there against her will, but he could not bring himself to allow her to leave.
“I am glad,” he said. “I will have a dinner tray brought up in a few hours.”
Christine nodded, and Duncan noticed that her eyes were getting heavy again. He stood quietly and looked down at her. Without thinking, he reached down and brushed a strand of damp hair from her forehead. She murmured quietly, and he withdrew his hand and left the room.
However, as he prepared to sit down to dinner, the servant tasked with taking Christine’s tray to her approached him.
“She rejected the tray, my lord,” the young maid said.
Duncan frowned, and his stomach tightened. If she was too unwell to eat, he might need to summon the doctor again. He looked at the untouched tray the maid was holding and debated what he should do.
Before he could decide, however, Christine walked into the dining room, with Ruthie close at her side. Duncan almost overturned the tray when he jumped from his seat.
“Miss Becker,” he said, rushing to her side. “What are you doing out of bed?”
Christine smiled. Her face was a little less pale, but she looked exhausted and shaky.
“I wanted to get out of the room for a little while,” she said. “I thought that I would dine down here with you, if that is alright.”
Duncan brightened. If she felt well enough to come down for a meal, then perhaps she was on the mend.
“Of course,” he said, pulling out a chair for her. “You are always welcome to dine with me.”
He gestured to the maid to bring out two more plates for the women. Then he ensured that Christine was comfortable before reclaiming his seat.
“How are you feeling?” he asked her.
Christine waved her hand.
“I will be fine,” she said.
Duncan frowned.
“She slept nearly all afternoon,” Ruthie chimed in quickly. “I believe that helped her a great deal.”
Duncan studied Christine carefully. She did not appear to be rested, and she looked far from healthy. Why would she not tell him how she was feeling?
The doctor’s words about some sort of distress came back to him, and his mother’s face flashed in his mind. On a hunch, he looked directly at Christine.
“I understand that you will need plenty of rest for the next couple of days,” he said. “So, I have ensured that you will receive no visitors of any kind. Especially my mother.”
As he had anticipated, Christine’s expression changed drastically. Duncan thought he could see some of the color return to her cheeks and her eyes clear, as though a cloud had dissipated behind them.
“You are very kind, my lord,” she said. “You did not need to do such a thing just for me.”
Duncan smiled, hiding his renewed anger toward his mother.
“I beg to differ,” he said. “The doctor gave strict instructions for you to rest as much as possible. I intend to make sure you do so.”
Christine and Ruthie exchanged glances, and Duncan noted the clear relief they both felt. They discussed books throughout the meal, but Duncan couldn’t focus on the conversation. It was clear to him that, whatever was wrong with Christine, his mother was doing a great deal to exacerbate her condition.
With each passing day he knew her, Duncan cared for Christine more and more, and he wanted nothing more than for her to care for him in return. It was also clear that would not happen until Helena stopped distressing Christine. He knew he must do something quickly. He could not allow his mother another chance to drive Christine away. If he did, he did not doubt that she would succeed.
Chapter 15
Charlotte could not get a minute of proper rest while she stayed in Duncan’s home. The room was wonderful, the view of the gardens from the window was spectacular, and Duncan and his staff were more than gracious and accommodating. However, she knew in her heart that sh
e did not deserve the kind treatment she was receiving.
With each moment that passed, she felt guiltier about the lies she had told Duncan, especially as she mentally rehearsed what she would say the next time she saw Helena Lancaster. She could not bring herself to continue lying, but she had to be more prepared for the woman’s verbal attacks. She only needed to buy enough time to convince Duncan that she was not ill, so that he would let her return to the inn.
On the morning that the doctor was supposed to return, Charlotte rose early. Before Ruth set about her daily duties, she helped Charlotte dress and fixed her hair in a simple style. Much of Charlotte’s color had returned, but her eyes looked a little bruised, and the crease above her brow appeared to have deepened. She was determined to convince Duncan that she was much better, however, and she would do whatever it took to accomplish that.
When Duncan came to check on her, she was sitting by the window with a book in her lap. She stood when he entered the room and gave him her best, brightest smile.
“Good morning, my lord,” she said with a curtsy.
Duncan looked at her with a mixture of surprise and relief.
“Good morning, Miss Becker,” he said. “It is wonderful to see you in such high spirits.”
“I am excited to be returning to the inn,” she said.
Duncan’s face fell.
“Is something here not to your liking?” he asked.
Charlotte’s heart ached. She did not want him to think that she had been unhappy in his home. Nothing could be further from the truth, but nor could she tell him the truth. She thought quickly, forcing herself to keep her smile light and sweet.
“You have been perfectly wonderful,” she said, “and your hospitality has been magnificent. I have been very comfortable here, and very well cared for. I am simply ready to stop being a bedridden patient and return to doing something useful.”
Duncan relaxed, but he did not seem much happier, despite her explanation.
“I can certainly appreciate that,” he said. “Please know, however, that you are welcome here until you are completely healed.”
Charlotte nodded, feeling a rush of love and gratitude towards Duncan.
“You are most gracious,” she said. “But now that I am feeling better, there are some things that I would like to take care of at the inn.”
Duncan looked relieved that she was acting more like herself, but his disappointment at her departure was evident. It should have warmed her heart that he wanted her to stay. Instead it only fueled her guilt.
“Very well,” he said. “Once the doctor has examined you, I shall arrange for your return to the inn.
Charlotte touched Duncan’s arm gently.
“Thank you very much, my lord,” she said. “Do not fear, I am not leaving my job. I am simply putting an end to being an invalid.”
Duncan laughed, and Charlotte melted at the sound.
“Well, that is a relief, Miss Becker,” he said. “I would be forced to send a search party after you if you failed to arrive for work.”
Charlotte laughed with Duncan for a moment. Then, he bowed briefly to her.
“If you will excuse me,” he said. “I will fetch the doctor. The sooner he examines you, the sooner you can be on your way.”
Charlotte smiled gratefully at him.
“I will wait right here,” she said.
As Duncan closed the door behind him, she sat back down in her chair and buried her face in her hands. She wished more than anything that the situation was different. She was beginning to struggle more and more with her feelings for Duncan, and she knew that she could not afford to let her resolve weaken.
The sound of the door opening startled Charlotte. She rose quickly, to be greeted by the sight of Helena entering the room with a kitchen maid. Charlotte stifled a groan, and another bout of dizziness. She sat carefully in the chair and forced a pleasant smile.
“Good morning, my lady,” she said.
The kitchen maid hurried in behind her and placed the tray on the bedside table.
“Well, Miss Becker,” Helena said bitterly. “I do hope you are feeling better. I thought that I would have some breakfast brought in for you.” She gave the kitchen maid a dismissive wave.
Truthfully, Charlotte was feeling worse by the day, but it was due to her own guilt and the constant fear that her secret would be exposed. However, she knew that Helena had relished terrorizing her while she had been ill, and she wanted nothing more than to disappoint the woman.
“Thank you,” Charlotte said, forcing a bright smile. “Indeed, I do feel a great deal better. Lord Willeton has been most gracious, and the doctor has been very kind.”
Helena sniffed.
“So it would seem,” she said, turning up her nose at Charlotte. “I still cannot help but wonder if you are telling the truth.”
Charlotte’s stomach flipped.
“Of course, I am,” she said, trying to seem confused and nonchalant. “Why would I be dishonest about my health?”
Instead of answering her question, however, Helena began pacing, never taking her eyes off Charlotte. Dread swelled in Charlotte’s stomach, and she once more felt as though she might swoon.
“It would be a shame if my son discovered that you were untruthful about your condition,” she said. “He has invested so much time and money in treating your illness. He would be devastated to learn that you had lied to him.”
Charlotte’s heart began to pound. For a terrible moment, she feared a relapse of the panic and sickness that had gripped her for the past few days. She knows, Charlotte thought, as renewed fear gripped her. She knows, and she is going to tell Duncan.
Helena seemed to revel in Charlotte’s reaction. Charlotte cursed herself, knowing that her paling, clammy skin was all the proof Helena needed. Charlotte prayed for some miracle that would bring her calm and return the healthy appearance she was finally beginning to regain, but no miracle came. She opted instead to attack.
“I wonder what Lord Willeton would think about his mother interrogating me as though I am some sort of criminal, when I have recently been so ill,” Charlotte said, putting on her bravest, toughest façade as she spoke.
Helena chuckled.
“If you blatantly lied to him,” she said, speaking slowly as if to a young child. “I would imagine that he would be grateful to me for sparing him any further embarrassment.”
Charlotte kept her gaze fixed firmly on Helena’s, but her heart fell into her stomach. Helena was right, of course, and it was one of Charlotte’s worst fears. Now, however, was not the time to succumb to those concerns. She needed to diffuse Helena’s suspicions, and then she could figure out the rest.
“If I ever did anything to hurt Lord Willeton, I am sure that I would deserve whatever repercussions he deemed fit,” Charlotte snapped.
Helena nodded.
“I could not agree more,” she said with a smirk. She continued to pace in silence for a moment, tapping her finger on her chin as though she was thinking about something. Then she stopped suddenly and looked at Charlotte.
“Do you enjoy gossip, Miss Becker?” Helena asked.
Charlotte blinked. She had no doubt that Helena was up to something, and the feeling in her stomach told her that it could not be anything good.
“No,” she said at last. “I believe that gossip is poison, and best left to those with nothing better to do.”
Helena laughed, unfazed by Charlotte’s masked insult.
“Oh, but one can learn a great deal from it,” she said. “There is often a morsel of truth in every piece of gossip.”
Charlotte shrugged, feigning nonchalance.
“I have found that there is more likely a bored, miserable person behind all gossip, or an outright liar, rather than truth or proven fact,” she said.
Helena’s sudden change of expression made Charlotte want to laugh. She pressed her lips together and stifled the urge. She did, however, dare to meet Helena’s gaze with a twinkle
of humor in her eyes. Whatever point the woman was about to make, Charlotte intended to enjoy every opportunity she could to fluster her.
The woman’s frustration was short-lived. She folded her arms again, and the smirk returned to her face.
“It is quite interesting that you should say that,” she said. “Because it would seem that there are people in the ton who believe you look quite familiar.”
Charlotte swallowed, her humor evaporating. However, she braced herself for Helena’s scrutiny. So long as she was only bluffing, she could brazen it out.