Miss Sally's Unsuitable Soldier

by Maggie Dallen

“There now,” she said with the same air she used with all her patients back in Billingham. “You seem fit as a fiddle this morning.”

  The earl scowled up at her. “Didn’t Dr. Roberts give you some medicine for my aches? He always gives me medicine.”

  Sally bit her lip as she pondered how to respond. She was certain Dr. Roberts did give him drops to take. She was equally certain that those drops held little more than oil and some aromatic herbs.

  Just between you and me, Sally, the physician had said before she’d left. It’s not his health that ails him. He’d arched his brows meaningfully and tapped his temple. What Sebastian had said had only reaffirmed what the doctor had told her.

  His message had been clear, but equally clear was the fact that the poor man was suffering. Whether it was physical or mental or emotional or even spiritual, it was not for her to judge the extent of his pain.

  “I have it right here, my lord,” she said, busying herself with the stoppered glass bottles and equipment Dr. Roberts had supplied her with. The silence in the room was deafening, just as it had been the evening before when she’d been alone with the older man aside from a maid and his manservant.

  Was he this silent with Dr. Roberts? She thought not. But she had no idea how to ease this tense silence. If only she had Abigail’s sweet nature that put even the prickliest pirate at ease. Or Rebecca’s ability to chatter lightheartedly no matter what the atmosphere around her. Even Hattie would have fared better. Her shy little sister would no doubt have been in her element in this silence, relieved that no one was expecting her to converse.

  But he was stuck with Sally, and she with him. She was neither known for her knack with people nor her ability to fill silence. All she was truly good for was this. She went over to him with the wooden cylinder Dr. Roberts had taught her how to use.

  Apparently a very vague complaint about his lungs was one of the earl’s common complaints. He scowled mightily when she drew near. “What is that blasted thing supposed to be?”

  She glanced down at the not-at-all offensive looking item that seemed to irritate him so. “It is a stethoscope,” she said slowly, trying her best to imbue her words with that kind patience that Abigail managed so naturally.

  “I’ve heard of them. That’s one of those French contraptions,” he snapped. “But they don’t look like that and Dr. Roberts never used one of those on me.”

  She wet her lips as she tried to think of the most diplomatic explanation. She let out a long exhale as she realized there was no way around it. Blunt was all she knew. “He only just received the instrument, because one of his physician friends was touring the continent and obtained one for him.”

  The old man scowled. She studied him for a moment from a few paces away. From this point of view, with him sitting there on a settee, his jacket off and his shirtsleeves rolled up, he looked less like an earl and more like...well, a human.

  There was almost something childlike in the wary way he eyed the equipment. She moved forward slowly. No, perhaps eloquence and charm were not within her skillset, but she did understand fear, and she knew better than most that when it came to scientific advancements, even the most austere and terrifying of men feared what they did not understand.

  “A physician named René Laennec was responsible for the idea and the first execution,” she said, holding the harmless tube out for him to study. After a brief hesitation he took it from her and turned it over in his hands. “This is the new model, created by Pierre Piorry. It’s quite portable, as you see.”

  “Mmph.” The noise was one of acknowledgement if not agreement. Close enough.

  “Dr. Roberts insisted that I bring it with me. He wanted to ensure that you receive the very best care.”

  His next grunt sounded far more congenial, if a grunt could convey such a thing.

  Flattery, the older doctor had told her. When it comes to the earl and his ilk, flattery is your best strategy to win the battle.

  She hadn’t supposed she’d need warfare tactics to play nursemaid to an earl who seemed to be in perfectly fine health, but she was starting to understand what the physician had been talking about.

  There seemed to be different rules at play here than in her hometown. She was well used to the fragile male egos of the officers, who refused to say when they were hurting, or the way those same blustering men would wail like babies at the slightest chill. But add in the status and power that came with being an earl and she supposed it was another level of pride at stake altogether.

  “Very well.” He thrust the tube back in her direction. “And you say you know how to use this?”

  “Dr. Roberts would not have sent it or me if he doubted that.” She held his narrowed gaze levelly until he at last looked away with a huff.

  “All right then. What are you waiting for?” he demanded.

  Silence reigned supreme once again and for the remainder of her examination. The only sound that finally broke the cloying atmosphere was a laugh ringing out from some other part of the house. A loud laugh.

  A recognizable one.

  The earl arched a brow. “Your sister, I presume?”

  “Undoubtedly, my lord,” she murmured. Truth be told, the sound of her sister’s bright and happy laugh made her want to smile, but she suspected it had the opposite effect on the earl. Sure enough, when she turned back he was frowning.

  “This may have been a mistake,” he said. His voice was so low she wasn’t entirely certain whether he was speaking to her or himself.

  She paused in the midst of tidying her equipment. “Pardon me?”

  He faced her then, his composure back to normal as he slipped his jacket on, his servant hurrying over to assist him as he did. “You seem like a responsible child.”

  Her lips twitched with amusement. “Responsible? Yes, I’d like to think so.” She hesitated but then her true nature won out. “It is the ‘child’ part I am not so sure about.”

  To her great surprise—and to the servant’s wide-eyed shock—the earl let out a huff of laughter. “You’re amusing, too.”

  She dipped her head. “Rarely. And usually in the least acceptable way.”

  He gave a bark of laughter at that. “I admire the way your father raised you.”

  She arched her brows. She couldn’t have hid her surprise if she’d tried. Where had this approval been the day before when his friends were mocking her and her sister for it?

  “I’ve known your father for many years, you know.”

  She nodded. “Yes, my lord. He has mentioned you often.” Well, perhaps ‘often’ was too strong a word for it. But at the very least, her father mentioned his acquaintance with the earl with pride. The earl had taken an interest in his father’s work at the stone frigate years ago, likely because it was so close to the earl’s property.

  But her father had often remarked on how he respected the earl for dropping his airs when he came to visit the officers. How he spoke to the captain and his underlings as men worthy of respect. More than once, her father had said, the earl had quizzed her father on his time at sea during the war with France and had applauded her father’s acts of valor and bravery.

  For that alone, Sally was prepared to like this old earl. Any man who respected her father was worthy of her respect.

  “He’s raised you to be useful,” he said. “Not some silly chit with nothing better to do than sleep the day away.”

  “Yes, sir,” she murmured, wondering how on earth her sisters would have responded to that one. It seemed to be a compliment and also a clear mark of her status in one go.

  “Your sister.” He met her gaze intently. “Is she as levelheaded as you?”

  Sally’s lips parted and her eyes widened in surprise. “Well, sir, she is young, but she is intelligent.”

  He arched a brow. “Some girls might forget their place at a party such as this one.”

  And just like that his meaning became clear. Irritation warred with curiosity. For the life of her she could not say i
f he was telling her this because he was concerned for her sister or because he thought Rebecca so silly that she might lose her head and fall for one of the guests.

  Or worse, one of his sons.

  The thought of the earl’s sons—of one very particular second son—had heat rushing to her cheeks. Some mix of guilt and embarrassment had her hands clenching at her sides. But it was righteous anger on her sister’s behalf that made her speak. “Rebecca might be quick to laugh and the first to dance, but I assure you, Rebecca knows her place.”

  His grunt of acknowledgment made her wonder. Was that acknowledgement or disagreement? Grunts truly were quite difficult to decipher.

  “Not everyone is raised to be as responsible as you Jones girls,” he finally said. “My own sons, well…” He gave his head a shake. “My eldest is a good chap, but Sebastian…” Another sad shake of his head and he fell into silence.

  Sally stared at the top of his head, torn between wanting to stand up for her new friend and demanding to know what he’d meant by that. But then her mind called up an image of Sebastian, of his easy nature and his flirtatious manners.

  Her stomach sank when she realized that she knew exactly what the earl meant.

  Sebastian’s smile was charming, his laughter endearing, and his demeanor so informal it made one feel like one had been his friend since birth. She’d fallen into a friendship with him in what felt like the blink of an eye. She could only imagine how easy it would be to feel more. To fall even further.

  “I’m afraid Sebastian has always been drawn to whatever he cannot have.” The earl huffed. “His mother spoiled him, I supposed, for he never outgrew that urge to thwart the rules.”

  She swallowed, his meaning settling like a coiled snake in her belly. As the son of an earl, he could thwart the rules and get away with it. As a young lady without a fortune or a title?

  She could not afford the same contempt for society’s rules.

  Was that what the earl was warning her against? The thought had a blush creeping into her cheeks, and for a moment she wondered how much he’d seen between her and his son. “I’ll take my leave, my lord,” she said softly.

  “Yes, yes, you do that. And Miss Sally,” he called when she’d reached the door.

  “Yes, my lord?”

  There was something very close to a smile on the old man’s face when he added, “I do hope you enjoy your time here at Hampton Manor.”

  She curtsied, keeping her head low. “I am sure I will.”

  No greater lie had ever been spoken. She laughed softly to herself as she headed down the hallway toward the stairs that would lead her to the drawing room where Rebecca had told her she would wait.

  One day and already her head was spinning. This place would be the end of her. But at least Rebecca would have a taste of this lifestyle, and hopefully that would satisfy her. It would no doubt give her inspiration for all the balls and soirees she’d throw for the officers back at the fort.

  The thought of home made her smile and she was so lost in thought she nearly walked headlong into Sebastian.

  “There you are,” he said. “I was just coming to fetch you. I was afraid the old man would keep you prisoner in his rooms, making you keep watch for hours upon end in case he caught a sniffle.”

  Sally valiantly fought a grin. “You shouldn’t tease him, you know.”

  His smile faded but the warm laughter was still there in his eyes. “I know. But one cannot coddle him too much lest he start to think we approve of him being ill.” He leaned in and lowered his voice as if letting her in on a secret. “Next thing you know he’ll believe Maxwell and I are wishing him into an early grave.”

  She gasped and reached out to smack his arm before she could think twice. “That’s a horrible thing to say.”

  “I know, but he likely believes it.”

  She arched her brows and crossed her arms. “Why?”

  “Pardon?” His amusement gave way to confusion. No doubt he was perplexed by her sudden change from amused to serious. “Why what?”

  She sighed and glanced behind her at the rooms she’d just left. It was not kind nor ethical to speak about a patient. And yet, this was his son, and she suspected that this turn in the earl’s health could be traced to some change in his lifestyle or his household. Hearing the way he spoke of his sons only confirmed her suspicions that he was dwelling on rather dark emotions when it came to his family.

  “Come,” she said, nodding toward the stairs. “I must find Rebecca.”

  “Too late,” he said. “Miss Eversaw and some of the other young ladies invited her to go shopping in town before the weather takes a turn for the worse.”

  “And Rebecca went with them?” Fear had her stopping mid-step to turn and face him. “Do you think she’ll be all right?”

  He did not pretend to misunderstand, for which she was grateful. “Oh yes. Quite. It seems your sister is fantastically knowledgeable about ribbons and buttons and all sorts of frippery.” His voice was laced with laughter and it made her chest warm. It made her wish more than anything that she could laugh along with him.

  But she had duties to perform and a sister to look after. “Yes, but, those ladies…” She bit her lip. It was one thing to think it. It was another thing entirely to say it aloud.

  He nudged her arm with his elbow. “Out with it, friend.”

  She exhaled loudly. “It’s just that, if they have brought her along in jest or to laugh about her lack of money and fineries—”

  “I do not believe that is the case,” he said. For one rare moment he was serious. This was a new side of him altogether and it had her blinking in surprise, her breath leaving her as butterflies in her belly burst into flight.

  “Sally,” he said in that low voice of his as he moved closer. “I know that you had a terrible first impression of this house and its guests—” He held up a hand when she went to protest. “No doubt warranted. Your reception yesterday was ghastly. But I assure you, there are some pleasant members of the ton and a few of them are here in attendance.”

  She felt her lips twitching again at his confidential tone.

  “More importantly, I assure you, if I thought your sister was in any danger with these ladies or that her accompanying them to the milliner in town would lead to her being hurt in any way, I would never have allowed her to go.”

  Sally had to take a breath and swallow thickly at the sincerity in his eyes. His words registered belatedly. “Allowed her to go, hmm?” She started to laugh. “I should have liked to see you try and stop her.”

  He started to laugh as well and the sound of it went beyond warm and comforting. In fact it made her feel decidedly too hot and not at all comfortable.

  “Now,” he said, clapping his palms together. “If you are satisfied that Rebecca is in good hands, I’m hoping to steal you away before my father can come up with new ailments that require your attention.”

  “Sebastian, that’s really not very understanding—Eep!” She was cut off abruptly as he reached for her hand and tugged, not letting go until they’d cleared the back garden and were striding toward the stables.

  “Riding lesson?” she guessed. The chilly air plumed with steam in front of her, a forewarning of the frost and snow to come.

  “How did you know?” he teased. “And don’t worry, one of your maids is on the way to act as chaperone.”

  “But don’t you...that is…” She looked around at the barren grounds. “Aren’t there guests you ought to be entertaining?”

  He smirked. “Probably.”

  She couldn’t help another laugh. “Your father mentioned you were not terribly responsible.”

  “Ah, you see. Now I could have told you he’d say that.”

  “And you don’t deny it?” She had to hurry to keep up with his lengthy strides, but she loved it. Her lungs came alive in the crisp air and her blood seemed to hum in her veins as she found a brisk pace.

  When she glanced up she saw that Sebastian had stopp
ed to look at the sky, his gaze lost in thought. “Let’s just say that my father’s idea of responsibility differs from mine.”

  “Ah,” she said. That cleared up approximately nothing. But a twinge of fear that he would confirm her suspicions about being an incorrigible flirt kept her mum. She snuck another glance up at him as he placed a hand on her back to steer her toward the entrance to the stables.

  She didn’t think for one second that he’d ever intentionally hurt anyone.

  No. She suspected anyone he’d hurt had been an accidental casualty. She imagined a line of heartbroken young ladies stretched from here to wherever it was he was last stationed. “When will you be returning to your regiment?”

  His easy expression faltered, a hint of something dark and brooding there and gone before she could fully understand it.

  “You are planning to return, are you not?” she asked.

  “That is the plan.”

  “Ah.” That one meaningless word had become her default answer when she knew not what to say. He led her over to a pretty gray mare that was munching on hay. She whinnied in greeting as they drew near.

  “So, this friendship,” she finally said when they’d sufficiently warmed the mare up to Sally’s smell and Sebastian had given orders to ready the horse for a short ride.

  He turned to her with a small smile of amusement. “What about it?”

  “Is this a one-sided confidence then?” she asked. Her gaze met his in challenge.

  He looked away with a huff of amusement. “What is it you wish to know?”

  She crossed her arms. “What is going on with your father?”

  “Ah, now if only we had a lifetime together for me to fill you in on all the peculiarities that make up my father.”

  She rolled her eyes at his teasing but it was impossible not to laugh. “Very well. Allow me to be more specific. What is going between you and your father?”

  “Oh that,” he said.

  “Yes that.”

  “It’s simple, really. My brother has always been the good, dutiful heir, and I the reckless, unreliable, underachiever.” He shrugged, but there was no hiding the pain in his eyes no matter how lightly he spoke. “It really is quite common, or so I hear. No deep, dark secrets to be found in our family, I’m afraid.”