“Take him upstairs to a bed,” ordered Nathaniel. He grabbed the largest footman by the collar. “Carefully.”
The man gulped and nodded. Nathaniel watched for a moment to assure their obedience before turning to see the room packed with curious servants.
“Hammil, send for a physician for my friend.” Nathaniel stopped and gave the man a significant look. “Promptly. Am I understood?”
Hammil glanced away, unable to meet the implied threat in Nathaniel’s gaze. “Of course, my lord.”
“Oh no. You will not allow that criminal to stay here!” Victoria strode forward, towing a red-faced Sir Danville in her wake. “I won’t allow it!”
“Pipe down, Victoria.” Myrtle tottered forward. “Best see to your lapdog, dearie. I do believe he’s suffering a seizure. Don’t want him to pop off yet, do you?”
Victoria turned to see that Sir Danville was indeed in serious trouble. His round face was dangerously flushed against his full white sideburns, and he had one hand pressed to his barrel chest.
“Oh no! Stanley? Oh dear! Hammil! Hammil, send for a physician at once! Bring some water in the parlor.”
Nathaniel watched as his mother screeched orders at the absent Hammil while she propelled Sir Danville to the next room, where stood the only sofa large enough to hold the man.
Then Nathaniel was almost knocked from his feet by cannonball Willa, who flung her arms about his neck so tightly he couldn’t breathe.
Shaking, she clung to him. He wrapped his arms about her and held her close. “Shh. It’s over.”
After a long moment, Willa shook her head and pulled away to look into his face. “Nathaniel, what is going on? Who is this Ren Porter?”
Nathaniel froze. In the midst of it all, he had not realized that Ren had spilled out the Liars’ existence. He spoke without looking at her.
“Ren is only a patriot, angry at a traitor.”
“But—”
“Master Nathaniel,” called a footman from the doorway. “I’ve sent for one doctor for Sir Danville already. The other physician has been called for … ah …”
“Mr. Lawrence Porter.” Nathaniel strode to the door, then turned back, still not meeting Willa’s eyes. “We shall… discuss this later.”
Willa watched as Nathaniel practically sprinted from the room. She crossed her arms.
Nathaniel Stonewell, Lord Reardon, hadn’t precisely told her everything, had he? Not about his family, not about Ren Porter, either. She wondered how many other things she was going to learn about the hard way.
Nathaniel shook the physician’s hand as he showed him to the door. It had been a grueling hour assisting the man with Ren, but Nathaniel would trust no one else in this house to help. “Will he recover from the pneumonia, do you think?” Nathaniel hoped so. It would be far too much to take if Ren Porter was finally killed for the sake of Willa’s laundry.
The doctor shrugged. “Time will tell. That dunking he took in the river might just have been too much for him. He isn’t far gone in the infection, but he is weak and very worn.”
Worn like a man who had pushed himself to follow Nathaniel to London?
“I imagine so,” Nathaniel replied to the doctor. “I’ll see to it that he stays put for as long as it takes.” And put a guard outside that door as well. Ren was ill, damaged, and misinformed. It might take a while to convince him he was among friends.
The doctor was still understandably curious. “He’s a fortunate man to have such influential friends….”
Nathaniel grimaced. “I’ll be sure to tell him so. Thank you again, sir. Good night.”
Closing the door after the doctor boarded his carriage, Nathaniel waved the driver on and watched them drive off through the dripping, tattered fog.
16
The pain was back. Of course, Ren Porter thought dully, it never really left.
His body had been broken. Hell, even his skull had been cracked! Then had come the ache of healing, of returning to use parts of him that bore no resemblance to the strong young limbs of before.
But this was a new pain, like a giant on his chest, squeezing the air from his lungs. Pneumonia, the doctor had said. Ren had taken a simple dunking in the river and now he had pneumonia.
Wasn’t that just perfect? Done in by dirty laundry. He laughed shortly, only to nearly cough his lungs onto the coverlet. Finally, he caught enough breath to lie back on the pillow, gasping.
“Ow,” he wheezed.
No more private jests. No blackly humorous thoughts of any kind.
No, not even sarcasm.
Only breathing allowed. He glanced sideways to look at the numerous pots set to steam on the hearth. If his lungs were full of water, why was he then set to inhaling steam? Bloody doctors.
Ren hated doctors. Nurses were all right. Mrs. Neely, who had cared for him when he was unconscious, had been a fine woman. If she’d been forty years younger, he would have married her.
Of course, if she were forty years younger, she would have run screaming from him like every other young lady did these days.
Willa didn’t.
No, that was true. He’d startled her at first, but later, by the fire, she’d looked at him curiously but unflinchingly. He’d tested her, too, when he’d fixed her tea. She hadn’t so much as blinked when he approached her.
Willa was clearly a very unusual lady.
And she belonged to Reardon, as the man had made very clear that night.
There came a sound, just a small one. A tiny shifting of fabric, perhaps, or it could have been a careful exhalation. It came from the corner of the room farthest from the candle. From the bed, nothing could be seen but shadows and shapes.
“I know you’re there.”
“Well, then, I suppose there’s no use in being uncomfortable.” The shadow stepped forward, becoming more man shaped.
“Reardon?”
“Hardly. Merely Cousin Basil, heir apparent.” Basil sat down on the bed and lounged against the bedpost. He withdrew a cheroot from his jacket and, leaning forward, lit it from Ren’s candle.
Basil smiled slightly, then blew a cloud of smoke that wrapped itself around Ren’s throat and spiked pain into his lungs. He gasped, only to take in more tainted air as Basil leaned closer, seeming concern on his face.
“Oh, you don’t mind if I smoke, do you?”
Half-choked, his sickened lungs seizing under the assault, Ren could only nod frantically.
“Pity. And you seemed like a chap who could enjoy a bit of good tobacco.” Basil tossed his cigar to the fine carpet and ground it out with his heel. Then he stretched his legs out on the bed and put both hands behind his head in a pose of relaxation.
“What are you doing here?” Ren finally managed to quell the urge to cough. “Are you part of the guard?” He waved a hand to the door, where he knew at least one footman watched outside.
“I’m here to apologize for this evening, dear man. Nathaniel shouldn’t have been so hard on you. That frightful family temper, you know. Quite takes hold of us sometimes.”
“I notice that it didn’t take hold of you while I held the pistol.”
“Better part of valor, my boy, better part of valor.” Basil shrugged. He cast a what-can-you-do look at Ren. “Can’t just go risking myself. That’s what Thaniel’s for, anyway, facing down the wolf. Or the pistol. Not that it did him any harm.”
Bitterly Ren had to admit to himself that it was true. His entire plan, from the moment he had seen Nathaniel Stonewell on the walk outside of that bookshop, had been to face him down and kill him.
Then he just couldn’t make himself do it. Ren felt sick. It must have shown on his face, for Basil made a sympathetic noise.
“Feeling worse, old son? The physician left some laudanum for you.” Leaving the bed, Basil crossed the room to pick up the bottle on the cabinet. “Quite a jug of it here. You may have all you want.”
Ren shifted. “No thank you.” Sleep had stolen weeks of his life before. In
the end, he’d found he preferred the sharp-minded state of unrelieved pain.
At any rate, all the laudanum in the world couldn’t numb the pain away, unless he wanted to kill himself with it.
That was always a possibility, but in the weeks since he’d awoken Ren had found meaning in his wasted life. He had been left alive for one purpose, to destroy the two men who had betrayed the Liars.
And now he must contend with the fact that he had failed. He had not been able to kill Lord Treason, and it seemed there was no reason to kill James Cunnington. The story about Jackham had rung quite true to Ren. He only wondered that he’d not seen it before. His mind truly had been muddled, though he felt clear enough now.
There would be no revenge. There was only the rest of his life as half a man.
“I wonder,” mused Basil. “I wonder how much laudanum it would take to kill a man? Would he taste it in his wine, do you think?”
Pulling his thoughts away from their dismal destination, Ren snorted with disdain. “Sir, the only way you could kill anyone would be to bore him to death.” Nathaniel may have been a traitor, but his cousin was undeniably a fool.
Basil whirled to glare at Ren. “Fine thanks I get, after I kept my cousin from carting you off to the magistrate!”
“You did that?”
“And called a physician for you.”
Ren supposed it had been kind of Basil to take him in and try to help him. Although the words kind and Basil didn’t really seem to belong in the same sentence.
“So I would say you owe me,” announced Basil.
Ren smiled sourly. “Ah, of course. What price kindness?”
“Oh, I want nothing for myself, you understand. It’s my lovely bride. She cannot bear my cousin, you see. She feels his existence brings down the whole family’s reputation. Have you ever been in love?”
Ren only looked at him.
Basil gave a gusty sigh. “Magical thing, love. Makes a man do many a mad thing to win his lady’s heart.”
The idea of this man being madly in love with anyone but himself was ludicrous. Furthermore, Ren felt no debt at all to him, no matter what he had done.
“Basil, I’m tired. Say your piece or go away.”
Basil twitched, and Ren could see him fight down a snarl.
“Very well, then. Since you seem to have no grasp of subtleties. You want Nathaniel Stonewell to be a name carved upon the family crypt. I have come to see if you are planning on having another go.”
Ren laughed, a hollow laugh. “The irony escapes you, Basil, I’m sure. I am the helpless one here, remember?”
Basil shrugged and stood. “I was only curious.” He stopped at the door, only a shadow among shadows again. “Do mind the carpets next time, though, will you? They’ll be mine someday.” With that he was gone.
The room smelled better instantly.
Yet Basil’s words lingered.
I have come to see if you are planning on having another go.
The next morning, as a curious Willa was heading to call on the newest resident of Reardon House, a strange deep voice rumbled in the front hall, causing her to halt, then backtrack to the top of the stairs out of sheer prying. Below, she saw Nathaniel talking to a tall man with dark hair.
“Of course I’m not sorry it’s you, Simon,” Nathaniel was saying stiffly. “Ren doesn’t know Dalton at all.” Nathaniel took a breath. “You should look in on Father. He might be awake, and he’d be very glad to see you.”
Simon? Willa positively burned to see him better. But the bloody stairs were so high she could only see the top of his head.
Then again, he was coming to see Ren Porter … and she’d been on her way to see Ren anyway….
“Tea,” she muttered to herself. “Tea will get you in anywhere.” She made for the back stairs. “Hammil!”
Nathaniel felt like an outsider in his own home when Simon and Ren Porter greeted each other soundly. Damn, Simon always had made him feel that way—but for the first time, Nathaniel saw clearly that Simon did nothing to perpetuate the old rivalry.
Simon had let it go. Why couldn’t he?
Then again, Simon is still welcome at Randolph’s bedside, isn’t he?
Nathaniel closed his eyes in an effort to banish such unworthy thoughts. When he opened them, he saw Willa standing pertly before them all with a tray.
“Tea?”
Nathaniel laughed out loud, not even noticing when Simon turned to look at him oddly. He clasped his hands behind his back and leaned close to Willa’s ear.
“Wildflower, could you be more transparent?”
She only smiled brightly and shoved the tray beneath his nose. “Tea?”
Simon looked bemused. “Will you not introduce us, Nathaniel?”
“Introduce us,” Willa stated firmly. “Tell him I am to be Lady Willa Reardon.”
Nathaniel leaned close again. “Actually, the proper form of address would be ‘Lady Reardon.’”
That caught him an elbow in the gut and another blinding smile. “Introduce me to your handsome guest,” she said through gritted teeth.
She thought Simon was handsome? “He’s married,” Nathaniel muttered.
“So am I—nearly,” Willa muttered back. “Introduce me before I spill tea all over you, forcing you to leave the room to change, leaving me here to introduce myself.”
“Heaven forfend,” Nathaniel said, laughing again. He quickly swiped the tray from her grasp without spilling a drop and set it on a side table. Grinning, he turned them both to face Simon.
“Miss Willa Trent, may I present Sir Simon Raines? He is a friend of Ren’s whom I have known for many years as well.”
“Bother that.” She stepped much closer to Simon and held out her hand. “Nathaniel’s told me a great deal about you, Sir Simon.” She cast a look over her shoulder at Nathaniel. “Although he left out the knighthood part.” She turned her blinding smile back on Simon, who twinkled his blasted blue eyes right back at her. “How lovely for you, Sir Simon, although I have no doubt you soundly deserved it. When did His Highness bestow the honor?”
Simon took Willa’s hand and bowed over it. “This past spring, Lady Reardon. Thank you for your kind words.” He straightened but did not release Willa’s hand. Willa didn’t seem to mind too bloody much.
“You know, Miss Willa Trent soon to be Lady Reardon, I must introduce you to my wife sometime. I think you would find a great deal to talk about.”
Willa brightened eagerly. “I shall call on her—if you think she would like that?”
Simon smiled again, clearly smitten. “I think she would be transported with joy.”
Willa sent an arch look over her shoulder again. There you see?
Nathaniel had had quite enough. He strode forward to detach Sir Stranglehold’s grip on Willa, then practically shoved her from the room. “Go out and play now. The adults have to talk.” It was worth riling her just to have her focused fully on him again.
She shot him a black look. “You’ll pay for that one, Nathaniel Stonewell.”
Nathaniel swallowed. Then again, perhaps he’d riled her a bit too much. He leaned forward to cup the back of her neck and kissed her soundly. “Gladly,” he whispered huskily. She sagged toward him with a hungry, breathy sound.
He shut the door on her. Now he was truly going to pay.
He couldn’t wait.
Turning back to his guests, Nathaniel grinned without apology. “Isn’t she something?”
Head tilted, Simon was watching him with assessing eyes. He glanced at Ren. “Besotted,” he declared.
“Completely,” Ren agreed sourly.
“None of your business,” Nathaniel said brightly.
“Hmm.” Simon turned back to Ren. “We were discussing what Jackham told you on that last visit.”
Ren looked uncomfortable. “Simon, I was very confused. I wasn’t thinking clearly.”
“But he warned you to leave before you could reveal what had happened during your attack
?”
“Essentially. He said there were those who had never wanted me to wake up, or something of the sort.”
Simon leaned forward urgently. “What do you remember about that night?”
Ren shook his head, then coughed. “I don’t remember—but I do. It’s like a broken mirror, but none of the pieces match up. None of it means anything to me.” His frustration was obvious. “All I knew was that I couldn’t trust anyone, not even the Liars. Even before Jackham said it—but I can’t remember why!”
Ren looked awful, gray and weak. Nathaniel stepped forward. “Simon—”
Simon sighed. “I’m sorry, Ren. I’ll leave you be for now. If you remember anything, anything at all—”
Ren waved a hand in assent but seemed barely able to lift his head from the pillow.
“Do you need professional care, Ren?” Simon asked with concern. “I could send Mrs. Neely. I’m sure she’d be thrilled to see you returned.”
Even sick and exhausted, Ren’s eyes widened in alarm. “Please, no. She’s a dear soul, but…” He leaned close and whispered, “She’s an extreme advocate of sponge baths.”
Simon grinned. “Ah. Well, perhaps someone here in Reardon’s household—”
“I’ll do it!” Willa’s voice was muffled but clear from the other side of the door.
Horrified, Nathaniel strode to the door and yanked it open. “Were you listening?”
Willa huffed. “Of course not. I just came back to bring Mr. Porter his broth.” She hefted the new tray in her grasp.
Nathaniel relaxed slightly. She’d clearly been down to the kitchen and back. “Oh. My apologies.”
“For shame, Nate,” Simon said easily. “You should know that if she’d wanted to listen, you’d never have caught her at it.”
“What?” Nathaniel scoffed. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
But Willa sent a guileless glance to Nathaniel that didn’t exactly reassure him. “We’ve an appointment with the Bishop shortly,” she told him gaily.
Nathaniel nodded, although he was beginning to regret his fair-minded impulse to allow the Bishop to have a shot at convincing Willa.
He waved Simon through the door. “I’ll walk you down, Simon.”
Celeste Bradley - [Royal Four 01] Page 17