by Dayna Quince
“And yet this was your fourth duel. You’d think you would have learned how dangerous this was from your first one.”
“Well, the first three didn’t count,” Theo said absently. Could one have a nightmare while awake? He could still see Kirby, but his eyes were open. “They were respectable fellows who knew the rules, and we both shot over each other’s head. All honor was restored and two of them are good friends of mine,” he finished defensively as if the Kirby in his mind would stop bleeding everywhere and get off the ground with a stern talking to. He shook himself free of the terrible daydream and refocused on his brother.
“Sir Kirby is generous with his uncle and cousin, that’s the only reason they want him to live. He’s a damn fool and they know it. That’s why the cousin, Jameson, went as his second and threatened to inform Judge Blackwood about the other duels.”
Callen rolled his eyes. “You haven’t learned a damn thing, have you? That’s how they’ll get you. You can’t claim privilege of peerage if it’s not your first offense. Judge Blackwood will use your reckless past against you and hang you with it.”
Theo pressed his lips together. Perhaps the tightness in his throat was not his guilt and anger but rather an invisible noose. “Let’s get back to you lying to Miss Lunette about us being agents of the Crown, shall we?”
Callen sighed. “Nothing more was said. I didn’t make up some ridiculous lie about national security. I kept it simple. We’re agents doing business in the name of England. And nothing more need be said about it because an agent wouldn’t say any more than he needed to, would he?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never met one, have you?”
Callen sighed again. He was wilting like a sad little flower in Theo’s opinion. Was it his wound? Or had he simply reached the end of his tether, as Theo had.
“If you’re so concerned about her asking questions, just refer her to me and I will handle it.”
“Oh, so now you’re also the superior agent?” Theo teased, hoping to drive the grayish complexion from his brother’s skin.
“Of course, I’m the older brother. I’ll always be one step ahead of you.”
Theo folded his arms. “And you’ll never let me forget it.”
“Damn it all,” his brother muttered.
“You don’t look well,” Theo said.
“I don’t feel well. I feel like I have a hot poker jabbed in my side.”
“Your wound is healing?”
“I thought it was, but I know almost nothing about tending to a bullet wound. They don’t teach that at University.”
Theo swallowed.
“I’m sure it’s fine. I don’t think bullet wounds are supposed to feel good. I’m going down to the kitchen to take some headache powder, then I’ll meet you in the drawing room.”
Theo nodded but was not convinced, and Callen limped away. He couldn’t take his half dead brother across the ocean just to have him die. That was one death he couldn’t live with.
Chapter 5
That afternoon Nicolette stood with Odette at the bottom of the bluff and watched the kites arc and dance in the sky. But then her gaze moved to Mr. Denham, some feet away with his hands in his pockets, his face a brooding mask. The wind ruffled his dark locks, his forgotten hat caught in a bramble some yards away. He didn’t look present, his stare vacant. Which was perhaps why she could study him so thoroughly. She’d tried to oust him from her thoughts, but the more she resisted, the more she couldn’t ignore him.
He didn’t see her. She doubted he saw anything in front of him.
Mr. Denham was a mystery. A sophisticated London gentleman who didn’t seem to want to be here. She tried to turn her focus away, but he stayed in her thoughts.
The Duchess of Selbourne had thrown this house party for the purpose of matchmaking. So why was he here if he wasn’t interested in marriage? Or did none of them appeal to him?
But his glances last night…
They’d made her warmer than the wine she’d sipped. His hazel green eyes had reflected the candle flames, and the wicked glint she saw in them stole her breath. They’d chased stares throughout dinner, a cat and mouse game that left her bewildered, but he never approached her. She’d thought… No, it didn’t matter what she thought. Surely if he wanted to speak to her, he would. He did not seem shy just…distracted.
“Aren’t you enjoying yourself?” Odette asked.
“Of course. ‘Tis a beautiful day.”
“That is not what I meant,” Odette whispered.
A few feet away, Mr. Seyburn lingered, a handsome explorer and fourth son to the Marquess of Clarence. He had dark blond hair with sun-burnished streaks and peculiar gray eyes. He would never inherit, but the duchess, Violet, had claimed he’d made his fame and fortune in treasure hunting. Not the distasteful kind that involved seducing heiresses but the real kind. He’d been to the African Congo and the jungles of India and helped discover an ancient city. He maneuvered the kite Nicolette had picked but couldn’t find the enthusiasm to hold. Odette had taken an instant fascination to him, and he didn’t seem to mind her incessant questions. Nic wished she could find the courage to talk to one of these gentlemen, just for the experience alone.
“What do you make of Mr. Denham?” she asked Odette.
“He’s a rake,” Odette replied. “Obviously.”
“I would have expected him to be more…flirtatious if that were true.”
“We’re not entertaining enough, likely. His brother is the real catch. They don’t expect all of us to match. Mr. Denham is likely a seat filler. Someone to test our skills upon.”
Nic laughed. “What skills do you speak of?”
Odette grinned. “The kind that would be useful to catch a husband, which none of us have. No, I will correct myself. Bernie has them, perhaps Anne and Jeanie, but that’s it. The rest of us are doomed.”
“You don’t think you’ll catch a husband? Mr. Seyburn spends quite a bit of time with you.”
“He’s just like me. We’d never suit. He’s driven to explore. There is too much in the world to discover. Marriage could never compare to that excitement.”
Nic blinked at her sister. She knew Odette fancied herself an archeological explorer. She read everything she could find in the castle library about the old ruins and the caves in the bluffs. But it was only a dream. They all had secret dreams, stories they told themselves about falling in love, of being rescued by handsome princes who could fix all their troubles.
But it wasn’t real. No prince would marry a poor girl from Northumberland.
Nic’s gaze traveled to Mr. Denham. Not even a London rake would.
“You like him,” Odette said beside her.
“I don’t know anything about him.”
“But you want to—”
“No…yes. He’s…intriguing.”
“And so are you.”
Nic turned with an incredulous grimace toward her sister. “I am not intriguing. I’m… Well, there is nothing interesting about me.”
“How can you say that!” Odette cried. “You are lovely and sweet. You can make anything grow, and then there is your voice. I know you don’t like us to hear you, but we do.”
Nic blushed. “Don’t be silly. Those things aren’t intriguing.”
“Then pick something. What do you dream of? What would you wish for out of life?”
That was the crux of it. She didn’t know what she wanted. She loved to sing, but she didn’t want to sing for people, not really. She couldn’t envision herself on a stage. She didn’t have Odette’s imagination or Bernie’s bravery. She was just…herself.
“You used to dream, Nic. I know you did. Remember that silly song you made up about the bird that nested outside our window?”
Nic bowed her head. “I remember.”
“So what if… What if your dream is music?”
Nic scoffed. “Oh? And what would I do with such a dream. We have no instruments in the house on which I could learn. To be a s
inger…would be scandalous. Not something acceptable for gently bred women like us. My only option is marriage.”
“Well, perhaps you’ll fall in love with a man who will appreciate your natural talent and encourage you. Pay a music tutor to teach you.”
Nic was shaking her head before Odette finished speaking. “Now I shall have love too? A man who can buy me a pianoforte and tutor, and he will love me until my last breath. That really is a dream, Odette.”
“You must not be afraid to dream. What else can we do. Our dreams may be all we have, but they are not nothing. I won’t stop dreaming. And I will never stop searching.”
“I hope you find what you’re looking for,” Nic said, her heart sinking. For herself, she just didn’t think it existed.
Odette’s kite tugged her forward, and Mr. Seyburn came to her rescue.
Nic couldn’t help stealing another glance at Mr. Denham.
He was watching her!
Their eyes caught. For a fraught moment, they stared at each other, and then he nodded and strolled away.
Nic’s heart pounded as she watched him. Her nerve endings stretched with delicious tension.
Someone shouted, and Nic turned in time to see a kite strike another guest in the face. Their kite-flying expedition was over she’d guess, and Mr. Denham was gone.
Chapter 6
Theo searched for his brother after afternoon tea. Callen had seemed rather pale when they’d spoken after breakfast, and Theo worried his wound was turning putrid. Callen had claimed it was not so bad but now…Theo wondered if, like himself, he was just being a stubborn ass.
He didn’t bother to knock as he opened the door, expecting his brother to be sleeping or reading. He didn’t expect to see his brother with a damned woman, and Miss Lunette, least of all.
He froze, stunned, barely able to take in what was occurring. He opened his mouth but then slammed it shut and pivoted, closing the door behind him, but once in the hall, his sanity returned, and he went right back in.
“I thought better of it, and I’d rather yell at you,” he muttered bitterly to himself.
“I’m not in the mood for yelling, at present,” his brother replied. “I just had my insides rearranged.”
“As curious as that sounds, you’re a bald-faced hypocrite, Callen. You’ve got her in your room.”
Miss Lunette pushed off the bed. Theo was relieved to see she hadn’t been in it but rather sitting on the edge.
“In case you haven’t noticed, Mr. Denham, what you’ve seemingly interrupted was a serious event in which I was saving your brother’s life. So save your hysterics for someone else.”
He drew back. “Hysterics? Who’s being hysterical? Not I. If I am wrong about what I think is happening here, kindly correct me, Miss Lunette.”
“Gladly. Your brother’s wound was festering, and I have purged it and re-bandaged it. As you can see.” She waved to the piles of blood-soaked rags and various utensils she’d used.
“Is that a knitting needle?” he asked.
“It’s a torture device,” Callen replied at the same moment she answered, “Today it’s a surgical instrument.”
Theo pressed his lips together in annoyance. They did that last night, speaking in unison, as if they had some sort of connection of the mind.
Theo shifted on his stance and folded his arms. “Brother, you didn’t tell me your wound was causing a problem. I could have gotten you the appropriate help you needed. You needn’t let some amateur physician toy around in your innards.”
“She blackmailed me into complying with her request to see my injury. From there it snowballed into full surgery. I feel better now, so that is an improvement.”
Blackmail? Miss Lunette was more conniving than he’d thought. “Why didn’t you tell me you were feeling poorly to begin with? We’re in this together, aren’t we? Isn’t that what you implied earlier?”
Callen glared at him, but Theo couldn’t help being a little amused. Miss Lunette ignored them and went to the fire, mixing a potion like a witch. He smirked at his brother and mouthed, “She’ll poison you,” before she turned and handed the cup to Callen.
He took the cup. “What’s in this tea?”
“Willow bark,” she answered, “and red raspberry leaf, sugar for a better flavor, and hemp seed oil to help alleviate some of the pain, but it’s not a miracle. You’ll have to take care. I did not add any laudanum after you rejected it the first time.”
“Thank you.” Callen took a sip. “It’s actually not that bad.” He sent Theo an I told you so, glare.
“So what exactly is going on here?” Theo asked.
Miss Lunette spun to face him with all the vigor of a mother cat protecting her kitten.
“Your brother could have died. If you care for him at all, you’ll cease your infernal whining and help me watch over him. If you want to protect your secret, you’ll have to make excuses why he can’t do all the things he would normally do. In the meantime, I will come nightly after the house is asleep and change the bandage. I’ll leave some ingredients here for you to continue to make the tea. It should keep him mostly comfortable.”
“Nightly bandage changes here in his room after all the castle has gone to bed?” Theo balked. “Are you mad, woman?”
“If you feel it necessary, you may chaperone. Will that make you feel better? But if you can’t be useful, you will only be in my way.”
Behind her, Callen chuckled and shook his head at Theo as if to say don’t bother arguing with her. She glanced over her shoulder at Callen, and Theo studied his brother’s face as the two of them communicated silently. His brother’s smile said all Theo needed to know. He wanted Miss Lunette. She faced Theo again, her cheeks rosy, her eyes dazed with infatuation. Ah, so it was mutual. “You can count on it, Miss Lunette.”
She went to the writing desk and scribbled something. She folded the note and handed it to Theo.
“Make this tea for him every four hours to keep the fever and pain at bay. I don’t know all the excursions for the party, but if we can work together, we can hide the fact that he can’t do very physical things.”
“The poor dear. My brother is so very physical,” Theo said, glancing past Miss Lunette to his brother.
Theo woke Callen when it was time to dress for dinner and helped him put on a fresh shirt, waistcoat, and jacket. He even styled Callen’s hair for him and tied his cravat. The awkwardness of the moment didn’t go unnoticed between them.
“I do appreciate the help,” Callen said. “It hurts to lift my arms to any significant degree, even to put on the shirt.”
Theo smirked. “Is it worse now that you let a complete novice poke around your insides?”
“It’s different, but I can’t tell if it’s worse or better.”
Theo stood back and inspected his work, meeting his brother’s gaze hesitantly. “Shall I make you that disgusting tea she prescribed?”
His brother sat on the foot of the bed. “Yes, I find the tea did help, and given things I’ve tasted before, it wasn’t all that bad.”
Theo snorted and went to make the tea. “It strange…” Theo began, not sure if he should broach the subject, but since leaving earlier, it was all he could think about.
“What is?”
“I don’t think you’ve ever needed me before. I don’t think anybody has.” Theo turned to the fire and squatted down, his back to Callen. He didn’t know how to be close to a brother he’d spent so many years pushing away, and yet seeing Callen’s connection with Miss Lunette… It made him bloody jealous.
“Well, I appreciate you’re here now.”
Theo looked over his shoulder at him. “Why her first?
“I didn’t go to her. She followed me here. Walked right in, bold as you please, and demanded to see my wound.”
“Did she now? These Marsdens are far more spirited than I would have guessed for country-bred women.”
“So it would seem, but neither you nor I have much experience with N
orthumberland women, do we?”
“No, we do not,” Theo said as he lifted the kettle from the fire and poured the steaming water over the ingredients in the teacup. He glanced at the instructions Miss Lunette had written out.
“This has to sit for one minute, and then you can drink it.” Theo took a sip, and his brows rose as he smacked his lips together. “You were right. It’s not that bad. I’ll keep this recipe for the next time one of us is gravely injured, but I’m not certain where to find hemp oil.”
“It grows here in the kitchen garden,” Callen said. “Perhaps we can trouble Weirick for some seeds and have our own plant at home.”
Home.
They might never go home again. A heavy black cloud came over Theo. He forced himself to move, handing the tea to Callen and pretending to glance around the room while his brother drank. He didn’t want Callen to see the weakness in him, the desolation he felt right now.
Theo took the cup away, and Callen sighed and glanced at his brother.
“Shall we go down to dinner?”
“Are you sure you can make it?” Theo asked. “I can say you drank yourself into a stupor, and you’re snoring loud enough to wake the dead.”
“I would be forever in your debt if you would do that. I don’t care what you tell them. Tell them I’m spewing diarrhea from my rear as long as I can stay here and go back to sleep.”
Theo chuckled. “I might believe you about being forever in my debt if you weren’t as pasty as a sun-bleached shirt right now, but instead I’ll help you back into bed. I wish we had come to this conclusion before dressing you.”
“I as well,” Callen muttered.
Theo helped him undress and then assisted him into bed. He tucked the covers around him with a silly grin. “What should I tell your surgeon?”
“Something that will prevent her from coming up here.”
“But I got the impression you rather enjoyed her tender loving care,” Theo teased.
Callen glared at him with heavy eyelids. “Don’t let her come up here, not until later, after the house is abed and she has to change my bandage. Assure her I just needed sleep. I think she’ll understand that.”