Desire by Design

by Heather Boyd

  “Why should I be calm when you’re being obstinate? When have you ever trusted my judgment?” she countered. “I am quite capable of making my own decision, I had to make many when your father was still alive and off with his mistress. Leave me in peace.”

  Alexander bit his tongue and practiced patience. They’d been going round in circles for days but he was just as stubborn as Mother. “If you had died under the surgeon’s knife, what was I supposed to do or think?” he asked, leaning over her. “I’d never have forgiven myself. Should I have thanked Sylvia for keeping me away from you at such a time? Whether you like it or not, I see you now, Mama. I’m here to stay.”

  She stared at him, her jaw firming. He could tell she was working herself up to launch into another tirade. In any other circumstance, Alexander might have enjoyed a good battle of wits with her. But not today.

  Today, Mama would do as he told her to do for once.

  He leaned farther over her and dropped a kiss on her forehead. “I would have been devastated to have lost you.”

  Taken by surprise by his statement, Mother just stared at him for several long moments, and then looked away. “If I had died, I suppose you would have had one less problem to deal with. That is how you think of us. Your family. Siblings and me.”

  She wasn’t going to forgive him easily or quickly. He deserved that, too. Alexander caught up her hand and held it gently. “I have taken excellent care of my siblings while you’re recovering, and I will look out for all of you better in the years to come, too. I swear that I will.”

  Her expression soured. “You only had them under your roof for a week because I tricked you into taking an interest in who they married. A few mournful sighs and talk of your sisters’ eagerness for marriage, and you just had to rush in to take charge. Like you always do. Like I knew you would.”

  He studied the woman who’d given birth to him in consternation. She probably had tricked him—playing upon his weakness for order and knowing everything. He’d been too busy to notice when Mama stopped bothering him.

  Well, she’d not fool him again so easily, he vowed. “How would I have reconciled my distraction with them if you had died? You are irreplaceable, Mama.”

  Alexander ground his teeth to hold back the anguish rising in his throat. He loved his mother dearly, he just never said so out loud, and it hurt him that she’d hidden her worries from him for so long. She’d turned to a stranger, Sylvia, and kept him in the dark.

  “I am the head of this family. Only you don’t seem to think my opinion matters. You made a reckless decision without consulting me.”

  “Not everything is about you, son.” She took a breath and then closed her eyes. “I have this second chance now to live, to see my daughters married and happy. I chose life over a certain creeping death. You would have stopped me, and I would have died sooner than I might now.”

  He certainly would have halted proceedings at first until he had all the facts at hand. He wasn’t certain what he might have done or said later. The very idea of her operation, of what had been done to her body, turned his stomach even now. He’d not viewed the wound himself, but the idea of it, the pain she’d endured, evoked enough terror to haunt him for years to come. “You chose to tell Sylvia and not me. Your own flesh and blood.”

  Her eyes opened. “A woman understands better than anyone another lady’s fears. She proved herself quite strong-stomached in the end. I want to thank her and make sure she is all right.”

  Confused, he stared. “What could be wrong with her?”

  “She chose to be with me for the surgery.”

  “Waiting in the hall? Yes, I heard the surgeons talking about what a helpful assistant she’d tried to be.”

  Mother’s expression turned grim. “Not outside in the hall. She held my hand even as they cut into me. She never let me go. Never turned away. I fear in my terror and pain that I hurt her.”

  Alexander stilled.

  Sylvia had not let on that she’d borne witness to the butchery performed on his mother in this very room. It would not have been a pretty scene or fit for a lady. The knowledge of her enduring that, too, made him feel decidedly unsteady. “I’d not thought to add brave to her list of virtues.”

  Mother’s gaze was speculative on him. “I wasn’t aware you were so well acquainted with my dear friend, but you must be. You have called her by her given name. Several times tonight. Why?”

  Alexander squirmed in the face of Mama’s interest in him just then. “Did I use her given name? Oh, well, she’s a friend of a friend’s wife. We’ve shared several dinners, and she attended Exeter’s party during the winter, too, now I come to think of it.” He forced a shrug, but worried he’d revealed too much knowledge of Sylvia Hillcrest for Mother to overlook. “I thought her like all spinsters. Dull as paint and only interested in needlework.”

  That last wasn’t true. But Sylvia Hillcrest was turning out to be a woman of many talents.

  “You always underestimate the complexity of women.” Mother was silent a moment but then she said, “When I am well, I intend to help her.”

  He stared at his mother in consternation. “If you are thinking of giving Miss Hillcrest your pin money, believe me, she doesn’t need it.”

  “Introductions, boy,” she nodded, enthused by her own idea. “She would be an asset to any family.”

  The idea of Mother matchmaking Sylvia to one of his acquaintances raised sudden alarm bells in him. “Do you even know if Miss Hillcrest wants to marry?”

  “Every woman wants to marry. She just needs the right incentive. We’ve talked about this already, and Miss Hillcrest will come around in the end, I’m sure.” She smiled a little more. “Now that my recovery is in hand, I imagine I’ll have the time to do good works for others very soon. Your sisters will have husbands to look after, or they will have husbands to look after them, really, unless you’ve scared them away. You can return to your bachelor ways immediately. I will have the time later to guide dearest Sylvia in society and eventually see her settled in a good marriage.”

  Alexander didn’t like the sound of Mother’s plan at all. She was meddling with a woman she ought not to. “She isn’t a charity, Mother. You can’t just foist your ambitions on her and expect her not to disagree.”

  “She always disagrees with me. That’s why I like her so much,” Mother continued with a soft smile. “Yes, I should like to see Miss Hillcrest catch herself a titled husband, I think. I’ve heard her speak favorable of handsome men. I must find out if there’s anyone she favors already.”

  Alexander shook his head. Sylvia was…

  Not his, but…

  “You could do something for her, too,” Mother suggested suddenly.

  Here it comes. “Do what?”

  Mother shifted on the bed, and then groaned. She put her hand on her chest and her fingers flexed, digging into her upper chest. She opened her eyes slowly. “Surely the idea of helping someone we are indebted to comes as no surprise. I shouldn’t have to tell you the benefit of helping a good woman catch a worthy fellow’s eye. It must be someone we like, of course. Someone important and rich enough, so she might holiday in the country with me when her husband doesn’t need her.”

  Alexander stiffened, insulted by the mere suggestion that any husband of Sylvia’s wouldn’t always need her nearby. “You’re delirious.”

  “Well, I think you’re just the man to help her. She tried so many times to convince me to confide in you. You must have made quite the impression.”

  A tiny, recently silenced part of his soul thrilled at the news that Sylvia had spoken well of him once. He’d ruined that, of course. Alexander shoved that problem away until later. “If Sylvia cared so much for my good opinion, she should have told me, despite her promise to you.”

  “Whereas I value her all the more because she didn’t, even under extreme distress.” Mother clucked her tongue. “I forbade her. She’s a good girl, obedient to a mother figure. I swore to never speak to h
er again if she told you. I’m ashamed to say I used all my powers of persuasion on her emotions to get my way. She must have been worried sick the whole time—and what did you do but throw out such a gem! I had no intention of dying, and now I would like to reassure her that I was always right that I would survive.”

  A maid came in carrying a laden tray. He suddenly thought of the nursemaid who was never around when he was at home. He knew her only by the flare of her skirt as she darted through a distant door. He’d hardly spoken a word to the woman in all the days and nights she’s lingered beside Mama’s bed. Perhaps he’d terrified her with his presence and driven her out without knowing.

  The maid was smiling as she carried a bed table to Mother.

  Mother pulled a face. “More stew?”

  “Forgive us, my lady. Miss Hillcrest insisted that you must be given the easiest and best dishes to build your strength back up, and everyone agrees beef stew is strengthening. There’s diced, steamed greens, too, on the side, the way you like them cooked, and sweetened hot chocolate to sip. Only your favorites, and easily eaten with one hand.”

  Mother smiled serenely. “You see, Alexander. The gentle, sweet-tempered woman you threw out made sure I would eat well during my convalescence. She’s not even here, and I know she’s thinking of me still.”

  Sylvia hadn’t been so sweet tempered when they’d argued just before he’d tossed her out the door. Perhaps he’d been too final in his actions that day. Too emotional to behave in a gentlemanly fashion. He was ashamed of that.

  After what he’d heard of her loyalty today, he was starting to suspect he’d have no choice but to offer up some sort of public apology for his angry behavior toward her and try to smooth things over. But he was absolutely not having his authority undermined by her again. He was in command of his family. Not her.

  The maid carefully placed the tray over his mother’s lap. Even so, Mama winced.

  “Be careful,” he snapped.

  “I’m so sorry.” The maid lifted the tray up and then down again in a slightly lower position over Mama’s lap.

  “It’s all right, my dear,” Mother murmured. “We’re all doing our best.”

  “Where the devil is that replacement nursemaid the physician promised me?”

  “Prendegast will find a woman eventually,” Mama explained, starting to eat. “I’d much prefer my friend over a stranger, though.”

  Mama’s eyes flashed fire…but then she moved her arm against her bandaged side and gasped again. She ate sparingly but eventually tired, and set her spoon aside. She drank all of the wine poured for her though. “I will speak with her today.”

  Good grief, Mama was like a dog with a bone about Sylvia Hillcrest coming back. Having that woman around his mother was asking for trouble. “I am not allowing that woman—”

  “My friend,” Mother said loudly, cutting him off.

  Alexander scowled. “She’s no such thing.”

  Mother’s expression turned mullish. “Oh, I can see your pride is still smarting at what I didn’t tell you, but under the circumstances, I insist you bury the hatchet and thank the stars for Sylvia. You would have prevented the operation from taking place or delayed it so much longer than was good for me. Be thankful, instead. I think if I had confided in anyone else, I would have been entirely alone through my ordeal. You must apologize to her. Sylvia is a kind woman, and she will be around quite a bit in the years to come. I would hate for there to be any awkwardness or lingering resentment on your part. I would also hate to have to choose between you again.”

  Alexander gaped. She found Sylvia better company than him? Nonsense! “Now, Mama, don’t—”

  “I can only hope when the time comes that you will marry such a strong-minded woman, but of course, I’ve always had reservations that any sane woman would have you.”

  His ears burned. “I’m not ready to marry anyone.”

  “I told Sylvia the very same, and she agreed you’re likely much too preoccupied to make anyone a good husband yet.”

  Before he could argue how good a husband he would make, eventually, there was a rapid tap at the door. A servant, most likely. “Come in.”

  The butler appeared, eyes downcast respectfully for Mama’s condition and sickbed attire. “Madam, you wished to be notified should Miss Hillcrest call. The lady is at the front door, asking about your health.”

  Alexander spun around. “Do not let that woman through the front door.”

  “We never have, my lord,” the butler said, stony-faced.

  Mother made a choking sound, and Alexander turned back to her in case she needed assistance. However, she only patted her lips. “This is my house, boy, the lease is paid by my widow’s pension. These servants you are ordering about now do not answer to you in the end. They answer to me, and if they want to keep their employment, they will remember who will write their letters of reference when I finally leave.

  “Send her up, Mitchell, or I will dismiss everyone, from you down to the boot boy, before sunset.”

  “Really, Mama—”

  “I know you threatened them with that, too, my son. You’ve no right. Not in this house. Not now. I am just as determined to have my way as you often are.”

  Mother smiled serenely as he discovered the butler had rushed off to do her bidding while they’d been arguing the point still.

  “Mutiny,” he muttered.

  “I will never be under your command, son. I am well enough to put my food down, too. You are always in the wrong when you disagree with me. I am strong enough, and it will be such a comfort to talk to a woman of sense about my recovery and care without having to tiptoe around your temper and masculine timidity.”

  He set his hands to his hips. “Mother, I don’t think—”

  She flicked her fingers, dismissing him. “You may return to your bachelor ways now, Wharton.”

  He was about to argue that he wasn’t going anywhere when he heard the rush of tiny feet, and then Sylvia burst through the door. She was so intent on reaching his mother’s bedside that she nearly toppled him over to get there.

  She stopped beside the bed, carefully reaching for Mama’s hand. “I’ve been so worried about you, Lizzy.”

  Mother smiled. “I survived to tell you I told you so. Now sit down, child, we have much to talk about, you and I.”

  “You did tell me so.” Sylvia laughed in delight and seated herself close to the bed. “I am so glad you put your foot down and decided not to leave us.”

  “Dear girl, you will learn never to doubt the wisdom of my words.”

  “Never again.”

  It was all so gushingly sweet that it could have been scripted for a play meant for Drury Lane. Had Sylvia ever trod the boards? He’d have to ask her the next time he found himself alone with her. If he ever was again. But that day would not be today.

  He cleared his throat. “Lizzy?”

  “Only my closest friends call me that. Not my children,” Mother informed him stiffly. “You’d know my opinion about that if you paid the slightest attention to my life.”

  “Lizzy, please don’t be cross today,” Sylvia whispered, stroking his mother’s hand in a soothing fashion.

  He didn’t need Sylvia telling Mama to be quiet. He was capable of speaking for himself. “As you prefer, Mama,” he said, forcing a conciliatory smile to his lips.

  He’d tried once before to change how he addressed his mother. It had seemed a grown-up thing to do to use her given name in private conversation. However, the first time he’d made the attempt to call her Elizabeth had been met with cold silence. But not ignored. Oh, no. He soon learned the error of his ways because his dinner that night had arrived on a plate in his chamber utterly raw, his bath water stone cold, and all his left boots and slippers had mysteriously vanished from his dressing room overnight.

  The next morning when he spotted his mother, him limping through the house half shod in search of the missing ones, he’d reverted to calling her mama immediately, and
by lunchtime, everything had returned to normal. Never let it be said that the Marquess of Wharton couldn’t learn from his mistakes once they were pointed out to him.

  Since his mother was definitely on the road to recovery, Alexander studied the back of Sylvia’s head a long moment and considered what he could really do about her friendship with his mother. She seemed too cozy with Mama for his liking…and that could change if he confessed to the wild night they’d shared.

  Unfortunately for him, he liked the memory too much to share it with anyone.

  There was also the problem of what people saw the other day. Throwing a woman from the house was not his finest moment, by any stretch of the imagination.

  He willed Sylvia to notice him but she kept her back turned. Was she embarrassed or angry with him for throwing her out? With lovers, current and former, it was often hard to judge their mood unless they were throwing things at him. His ducking reflexes were excellent when called for.

  “Miss Hillcrest?”

  Her shoulders stiffened, and she turned slightly. “Thank you for allowing me to see your mother at last, Lord Wharton.”

  He grimaced inwardly at the brisk, cold tone with which she spoke to him. She was being too polite not to be feeling just a bit put out with him still.

  He also noticed she didn’t look up all the way to meet his gaze, too, but kept hers respectfully dipped like a shy maiden, or that old nursemaid that Prendegast had foolishly hired. “My pleasure.”

  “He didn’t let you in, my dear, and he is about to leave now.” Mother flicked her hand imperiously. “Off you go, boy. I prefer to talk privately with my friend without you glaring daggers at her head.”

  He cleared his throat. “Could we speak in private for a moment, Miss Hillcrest?”

  “I don’t think there is anything left to say to each other, my lord.” She turned away. “All I want is to know how Lizzy is faring.” Then she directed her gaze to the discarded tray of food by the bed. Sylvia surprised him by clucking her tongue at Mama in obvious disapproval. “You need to eat more, my lady. We must build you up, help you recover your strength, so you can dance at your daughters’ weddings.”