The Secrets Of The Sixth Night (The Northumberland Nine Series Book 6)

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The Secrets Of The Sixth Night (The Northumberland Nine Series Book 6) Page 7

by Dayna Quince


  “Before you go charging off to his rescue, my brother wanted to stay in bed and sleep. I’ve excused him for the evening to our host.”

  “Oh, good. That is exactly what he needs. Did he seem well?” she asked.

  “He seemed alive. I don't know what else to expect.”

  Worry balled into a heavy stone and made itself at home in her stomach. “But was he speaking to you, looking into your eyes? Could he stand? Did you give him more tea? Was he writhing around in a pool of his own sweat with a wicked fever dream?” she rattled off to him.

  Mr. Denham drew back. “He was none of those things. He spoke clearly, and he seemed weak but was able to stand while I dressed him. By the end of it all, and after he had the tea, he was too tired to come down, so he begged that I excuse him.”

  Luna exhaled with great relief. “That is perfect, is more than perfect. That is excellent news.” She touched his arm, her knees weak with relief, but quickly snapped her hand away. They weren't friends, and she was still irritated with him for having ignored his brother’s urgent needs. She straightened and brushed her skirts down as if she could smooth her ruffled feathers and hide her deep concern for his brother, lest he misconstrue her intent.

  “Good. It might be too soon to tell, but I'm eager to see what progress has been made with the wound itself later this evening,” she whispered.

  He stepped to her side and surveyed the room, his arm brushing hers. “Wait in the back stairwell, and I will collect you before going to his room. I don't want you to be seen going there by yourself. If we are discovered, I will have to explain what we’re doing as vaguely as possible, but it sounds better if it comes from three people versus you being seen alone.”

  “But it isn't any better if I'm seen alone with you,” she said.

  “No, but if that happens, let me do the explaining. I have loads more experience sneaking around dark houses than you do.”

  Luna shrugged one shoulder. “So you think.”

  He offered his arm. “May I escort you into dinner? Since we are now on the same side?”

  She placed her hand on his arm. “I did not know we were on opposite sides.”

  “Oh yes, man versus woman, rogue versus innocent. It's a tale as old as time, but now we share a united goal. Keeping my brother alive.”

  They lined up and the procession moved to the dining room where they took their seats, Mr. Denham taking the seat beside her.

  “I am heartened to hear that you want your brother to live.”

  “We haven't always gotten along—no, that's not true—we've never gotten along. But I want my brother to live long enough to breed his own heirs.”

  “You don't want to inherit?”

  “Dear God, no. It's far too much responsibility. The pressures, the time spent locked up in a study poring over ledgers filled with numbers. Letter after letter from the land steward. All of it dreadfully boring.”

  Luna thanked the footman filling her wineglass and smiled before she took a sip. “Responsibility scares you,” she said.

  “As my mother used to say, I have the spirit of a bird. Having my wings clipped would render me joyless.”

  Luna cocked her head to the side as she considered his words. “Do you think your brother is joyless?” she asked.

  He took a sip of his wine before answering, dipping his spoon in his soup and swirling the creamy red liquid around, watching it.

  Luna thought he was going to ignore her question. Or maybe he was giving it deeper thought.

  “My brother is simply different from me, much more suited to the life he was born into than I ever was.”

  Luna respected his answer. She couldn't claim to know Lord Densmore well, but she would've been offended on his behalf had his brother called him joyless. He didn't seem like a joyless man. She didn't detect bitterness, not in regard to life itself, but more in regard to the history between him and his brother, most likely stemming from differing roles. He might see his position as heir to the title more cumbersome than his brother was capable of understanding, which would create resentment.

  Luna saw the same strain in Anne, and that was why they all came together to help her. Eight little sisters was a lot to take on. Many hands make light work, as they say. Did Mr. Denham help his brother at all?

  “Do you not help your brother at all?” she asked.

  He tensed as the next course was set before him and picked up his knife. He sliced his fish aggressively, rendering the tender flesh unrecognizable. Clearly, Luna had poked a beehive with a stick. Was she about to get stung?

  “He's never asked for my help, nor has he ever wanted it. He's made that clear. I'm useless to him. All I ever do is stir up trouble. His words, not mine. I rather think I could be put to use in many ways.”

  “It's impossible to be useless without trying,” Luna commented.

  He slowly set down his fork and turned his head toward her. “I realize our acquaintance has been brief, Miss Lunette. Do I really come off as such a wastrel?”

  Luna set down her fork and held his gaze. “Sometimes asking for help is just another task. You shouldn't always wait for someone to solicit help. Saying he hasn't asked you isn't an excuse. He is your brother. I'm sure he has a lot to be responsible for. Don't wait until he makes the request. Just do it.”

  “He’ll tell me no,” he said sullenly.

  “That is only his pride talking. Don't accept no. Ask again and again. Anne is the oldest and even though we share the duties of the house equally between each other, there is still a heavy emotional burden to be carried, and we do our best to share that too. Sometimes we look at people and they seem so strong. They seem like they can do it all on their own. But even if they can, they shouldn't have to. He only has you, Mr. Denham, and you only have him. It takes nine of us plus two staff to care for our little house. How much does your brother oversee all alone?”

  “We have many more with four estates fully staffed, plus the tenants. He's not doing the physical work all by himself.”

  “No, but he has to worry over all those people. He must care for them and watch over them. You could help with that.”

  His jaw tightened. “You make a terrible dinner companion. It's just like sitting next to my brother. I always feel guilty. Like I'm a waste of a human.”

  Luna didn't think before she reached out and touched his arm. They both tensed, his eyes flaring as he looked at her with panic. But she ignored her own alarm to say something important he just might really need to hear.

  “No one is useless. You aren't a waste. Whatever has been done in the past is done now. You can help your brother going forward, whether it's with your…business here or running the estates. You are helping him now. The past is just that, the past. You can forgive it, you can forget it, but you can never change it. It’s useless weight to try to hold on to, but you are not. You are capable of helping him. The burden he carries would be so much lighter if you shared it with him, and it doesn't have to be a half or a quarter of it. You don't have to devote your life to it. Just some of it.”

  She drew her hand away.

  His gaze dropped to his arm. “You are too forward, Miss Lunette,” he reprimanded her. She shrugged one shoulder and picked up her fork as the third course was set down before her. She hadn't even touched her fish.

  “Perhaps I'm good at healing the invisible wounds as well as the obvious ones.”

  “Invisible wounds? Ridiculous.” He resumed eating.

  Luna finished her bite of food before answering. “The mind is just as prone to injury as the body.”

  He didn't respond. She must have truly stirred up the beehive now. He ignored her for the rest of the evening, and after a brief visit with the ladies in the drawing room, the gentleman separated for billiards as they had done the evening before.

  The sisters all retired together. Luna walked behind the twins, Nicolette and Odette, toward the corridor that housed their rooms. Odette was telling Nicolette a story about hidden tre
asure that was buried somewhere along their coastline. Nicolette was humming along, nodding her head as Odette spoke. Luna smiled at her sisters. They had all the same habits as they did as girls growing up. Nicolette was always humming some song, something she either made up or heard from a traveling troupe passing through the village.

  Nicolette had the unique talent of being able to hear a song once, either with or without words, and recall it easily. Her twin did not have the same talent. Odette had an adventurous soul, and she always requested books about far-off places.

  Luna hadn't been able to keep her mind off Lord Densmore. She hoped he was all right. The closer the hour moved toward the time when she would be able to see him, the more her nerves stretched, her stomach fluttering with anxious butterflies. She wasn't pleased to have to wait for Mr. Denham in the back stairwell. He might make her wait there in the dark as a punishment for having wounded his pride and making him feel uncomfortable.

  Men were silly like that, she'd learned in her brief experience. They never wanted to address unpleasant emotions. Her own father was no exception. Rather than discuss what they were feeling and make amends, they'd ignore the issue altogether and hope it went away. Bruised feelings never went away. They festered like wounds. The invisible ones she'd spoken of to Mr. Denham. He’d made it painfully obvious there was a giant festering wound between him and his brother. They were missing all the best elements of having a sibling. Yes, one may fight with a sibling, disagree, even experience jealousy or competitiveness, but it was always underlaid by genuine affection and trust. These two brothers were lacking those things. Maybe these events, whatever serious endeavors they were undergoing here in Northumberland, could bring them together and she could be part of that. She would have to know more about them to help. If Mr. Denham was not willing to share bits of their past, then perhaps Lord Densmore would. Especially about their parents and how they died, when they died, and their feelings about it. He might not be quite as defensive as his younger brother. The trick was finding the opportunity to speak with Lord Densmore without his brother being present.

  Luna bid her sisters good night and retired to her room, changing into an older day gown with three-quarter length sleeves. This time she donned a work apron. She didn't know why she’d packed it to begin with. It wasn't something someone would normally bring to a house party, but perhaps it was just habit, or maybe she had planned to wear it while out searching for herbs. Some herbs required a bit of digging to access their roots. Yes, that might have been the reason why she packed it and brought it from home.

  Or maybe it was fate. Maybe she was meant to be here and to help these two men either to do some good and bring two brothers together or…

  Because she was always meant to meet Lord Densmore. Because he was her fate.

  She pushed the thought aside.

  “Ridiculous,” she muttered to herself.

  She would only believe what she knew to be true, and she knew that he was an agent of the Crown and had a serious injury. That was what she needed to focus on. Her own feelings about him were not important right now.

  Time would tell if they were genuine or if it was only a passing fancy. And if he never returned them, she would know by the end of the party. Broken heart or not, at least he would leave alive and on his way to a full recovery. She would see to it.

  Luna waited until the clock struck eleven thirty. She did not know how much longer the gentlemen would play billiards. How late did they usually go?

  The house was surely asleep except for them. She hoped Mr. Denham was paying attention to the time and not wasting precious minutes at the billiard table while his brother’s wound needed care. As the hands of the clock moved toward midnight, Luna was growing drowsy and impatient. She gathered what she would need of her supplies and decided that at the very least she could collect what she didn't have available in her room before heading to the stairwell. Maybe that would be just enough time for Denham to finish his evening.

  She ground her teeth as she moved silently through the halls to an upstairs linen closet that might be less used and missing sheets less noticed. She might have to persuade Lord Densmore to replace what she was using to tend his wound. She had no doubt he would. He seemed an honorable man, unlike his brother. She had tried to be nice to Mr. Denham, although he might not see it that way, but she was giving him sound advice. There wasn't much she could do about it if he didn't like hearing the truth.

  It didn't make what she'd said any less valuable. Perhaps in time, he would come to accept that he had to take responsibility for his part in not helping his brother.

  Luna made her way toward the far corridor where the gentlemen were housed. She thought she might try to stop by the billiard room and decipher which of the gentlemen were still lingering there, but it was too far out of the way, and she was very anxious to get to Lord Densmore. She hoped he was all right and the rest and care earlier had gone a long way toward improving his health. She reached the back stairwell, and the hall was utterly silent. Her eyes had adjusted to the darkness long ago. She could clearly see the hall was empty. There was no movement and she heard no sound.

  She couldn't tell if the rooms themselves were empty or if the gentleman who occupied them were already abed. What if she knocked on the wrong door? Perhaps she shouldn't knock, or the other occupants might hear and peek out of their rooms. She should've come far earlier when the gentlemen were in the billiard room. She felt a presence close behind her.

  “Boo.”

  She jumped and a hand clamped over her mouth.

  “Don't scream,” Mr. Denham whispered.

  He let go.

  She wasn't about to scream, but she was going to blister his ears with words he'd likely never heard before. She sucked in a breath and he chuckled quietly.

  “I recommend you don't speak,” he said. “A feminine voice will carry much farther in these quiet halls than mine will. Hold your tongue until we're inside. He stepped past her and she followed him. Her lips clamped shut as they entered the corridor door and navigated their way to Lord Densmore’s room. Mr. Denham entered without knocking, opening the door just slightly to peek his head in and stepped in. He held the door for her as she entered and then closed it, turning the key.

  She didn’t spare a second thought to Mr. Denham. All her attention, every fiber of her being positively screamed to focus on Lord Densmore. She'd never felt such a thing before, like a fishhook tethered her to him and he reeled her in. She cautiously stepped forward and he sat up. He looked well, she thought with relief.

  His eyes were bright, his color better. His hair was plastered to his head with sweat in a disheveled, rather disarmingly handsome manner that somehow was just as beguiling as when he'd worn his dress blacks at the ball four months ago. She remembered quite clearly how stunning he was then, but this sight was far more devastating to her senses. He resembled a heathen God, lounging on his bed, welcoming her into his chamber.

  As he moved to sit up, he winced and the effect was lost. Her concern overlaid her fascination now, and she hurried forward.

  “Don't move if it hurts,” she said.

  He slowed his movements and carefully adjusted himself into a sitting position.

  “It feels tight,” he said.

  She set down the sheet and her satchel of tools on the nightstand and touched his forehead, exhaling with relief.

  “You don't feel feverish.” She glanced over her shoulder. “Tea, if you please, Mr. Denham.”

  “I've already begun. I'm so good at helping,” he muttered.

  Luna ignored him as she reached for Lord Densmore’s shirt and lifted it up to look at the bandage. Fluid had seeped through, but it was pink-tinged and not murky or brownish. She touched it and it was dry, so it must be old.

  “Can you sit up like you did before?"

  He nodded and adjusted himself, dropping his legs over the side of the bed.

  Luna caught a peek at his bare feet, large and square, his toena
ils clean and neatly trimmed with little tufts of hair on the knuckles of the toes and on the high arch of the top of his foot, but not overly so. Her father's feet were so hairy, they may as well be covered with moss. She focused on Lord Densmore once again. His eyes were clearer. No longer did they have the glaze of pain and fever.

  “You seem to have improved in such a short time,” she said.

  “Have I?”

  “Tell me how you're feeling? Earlier you said it felt like a hot poker and after like a punch. How about now?”

  “It feels like there's a rock buried in my side, and it's a little itchy.”

  “Itchy?” she repeated. “I am eager to see how it looks. Will you please remove your shirt?” A little giggle rose in her throat. She’d never said such a thing to a man. The idea of his bare chest made her a bit dizzy.

  He nodded and his brother came to help him. Luna glanced away. She didn't want them to see disappointment on her face, but she would've preferred to help take his shirt off.

  That is not how a doctor thinks, she reminded herself. She focused on tearing a sheet into new strips of linen and when she turned back, she was momentarily stunned by the sight of all his golden skin.

  Mr. Denham chuckled as he moved past her. “You’re drooling, Miss Lunette.”

  Luna snapped her mouth shut. Thankfully, Lord Densmore wasn't paying attention to her at all. Instead, he had focused on the jar on the nightstand. He picked it up and was frowning down at the contents inside. At last he glanced her way.

  “This is what you put in me?”

  She nodded and stepped forward. “It is. I blended it myself. Now we will see what effects it has had for your healing.”

  “You expect this to work in so little time?”

  “What I'm hoping is to see less fluid created from the wound, and what fluid there may be, which is the body's natural cleansing process, to be clear and not murky or yellow and green as it was before. The flesh inside the wound should be pink and bleeding once it is disturbed.”

  “Isn't bleeding a bad thing?” Mr. Denham asked as he brought a cup of the tea over and handed it to his brother.

 

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