Loving Protector

by Sally Quilford

  “Or what? Please do not try to spare me the details, doctor. I need to know.”

  “He may suffer amnesia. That is the best we can hope with such an injury. Or he may well be in a vegetative state for the rest of his life. If that is the case, then it is perhaps best that he does not live too long.”

  She had asked the doctor not to spare her the details, but she could have done without that last bit of information. That someone so vibrant and healthy may spend the rest of his life unconscious was too much to bear. She knew that it happened. A girl from her town had fallen from her horse, striking her head on a rock, and was sent in a home for the mentally ill because her parents could not cope with her at home. Calista could not even think of sending Brook to such a place.

  “Please wake up and be well,” she said softly as she lay by Brook’s side. “I have so much I need to tell you. If you cannot wake up, please don’t be in any pain.” She reached for his hand, hoping, as she had hoped for several days, that he might respond by squeezing her fingers. “What can I do to help you?”

  There was a faint knock at the door, and one of the servants came in. “The Duke of Midchester is downstairs and wishes to see his son, Mrs. Windebank.”

  “Of course,” said Calista. “Give me a moment to make myself presentable, then show him up.” Perhaps Brook’s father would be able to help. He might even know of a physician who could undo the damage that had been done. She went to the mirror and straightened her hair as best she could, and then adjusted her old grey muslin dress which had ridden up a little. She wore it because none of the fine clothes in her trousseau seemed appropriate for tending Brook. She still looked untidy to her own eyes, but guessed that the Duke of Midchester would not be interested in her anyway.

  “Your Grace,” she said, curtseying as the duke entered the room.

  “You are my son’s wife?” He barked out the question, without bothering to return her greeting.

  “That is correct.”

  “But I gather that the marriage is not fully legal.”

  “I am not sure what you mean.”

  “It can be annulled.”

  “Annulled? Why?”

  The duke made his meaning clear in terms that embarrassed Calista greatly. “I see. Yes, I suppose that is true, but…”

  “But nothing. You are to go away from here and let me and people who are more suitable care for my son.”

  “Go away?”

  “That is what I said. Are you an imbecile? No, you cannot be. I gather you were clever enough to ensnare my son, using the King to get to him.”

  “That is not true,” said Calista. “I had no thoughts of marrying Brook until the Earl of Garton tried to force my hand.”

  “So you admit it is not a love match?”

  “I admit nothing of the sort.”

  “Look girly, I’ll give you a lot of money to leave. You are not a suitable wife for the future Duke of Midchester. You must see that. And he can hardly be a husband to you in this state. You’re young enough to start again. Leave my son to me.”

  “You mean the son that you have neglected for thirty years?”

  “Do not take that tone with me, Miss.”

  “Mrs. I am Mrs. Windebank. I am not the wife of the future Duke of Midchester. I am the wife of Colonel Brook Windebank, and I would never leave him to you. You have shown no sign of caring for him before. Why the sudden interest now?”

  “He is my son. Regardless of what I might have said in the past, or what people might believe, he will be the next duke. And as I have already said, you are not a suitable wife for him. Look at the state of you. Your hair is a mess, that dress is not fit for a servant.”

  “Well I apologise for not meeting your exacting standards, Your Grace, but might I remind you that I have been at your son’s side for two days, caring for him. Where have you been?”

  “Trying to track down the rogue who tried to kill him.”

  “Oh… Then I am sorry. But the matter still stands. I will not leave him to you. You may have a hankering to care for him now, because his life has been in danger, but what happens when you tire of that? Who will take care of him then? Or will you leave him to the care of servants.”

  “There are hospitals…”

  “No! Never.” Calista was immediately reminded of the tragic girl from her home town. “I will not let him go to one of those places.”

  “I am his father.”

  “And I am his wife.”

  “And you fancy being the Duchess of Midchester no doubt.”

  “I do not care that…” Calista snapped her fingers, “for being the Duchess of Midchester. You may not think that our marriage is a love match, and perhaps Brook does not love me. But I love him…” Tears splashed from her eyes. “And I’ll care for him here for as long as I have to.”

  “Do not make an enemy of me, Missy.”

  “No, Your Grace, it is you who should not make an enemy of me. When it comes to my husband, I promise I will fight you tooth and nail in order to do what is best for him.”

  “Oh you silly girl…” the Duke sighed, and suddenly looked very old. “I do believe you love him. Can you be sure that your love will last any longer than what you call my sudden interest in him.” He sat down on a chair near to the window, and pulled back the curtain to look out.

  “I am far more constant than you, Your Grace.”

  “You think so? Then it might surprise you to hear that I loved my wife. I loved her until the day she died. Only … I was a young fool when we married, and had no idea how to show my love. I had not much experience of it from my own parents who despised each other for all their married life together. So I treated her as cruelly as my father treated my mother because I knew no other way. I am not proud of myself but sometimes when one has taken a road in one’s life it is hard to turn back, to admit one is wrong. Then…” The duke laughed bitterly, and gestured to the bed, “then this young whippersnapper came along and challenged me to a duel. All I wanted was my wife’s love and my son’s love, yet I had taught them both to hate me. So it was easier to hate in return.”

  “He does not hate you. He came to you wanting you to recognize him as your son.”

  “So, I got it wrong again. And I suppose I have got you all wrong too.”

  “We could care for him together,” said Calista. “I do not think I can do it all on my own. But not in a hospital. It must be here, in his home. In our home.”

  “Now why would you want an old brute like me around my son?”

  “Because you have just told me that you love him. I believe that when you came here today, as clumsily as you behaved, it was also because you love him.”

  “Clumsily, hey? Not many people in my life have ever spoken to me as you do.”

  “You had better get used to it, Your Grace, when it comes to your son’s well-being.”

  “When I walked in this room I thought you were the worst possible wife for a man like my son. You’re young … far too young … and you look as if one gust of wind would blow you right over. Yet you have a spine as solid as any oak tree that has withstood a thousand storms. I can see that now. I do not suppose you would share some luncheon with a clumsy old man? Tell me all about my son. I know so little of him, you see.”

  “I would be delighted to.”

  Luncheon was a strange affair. They ate in the small sitting room off Brook’s bedroom, because Calista would not go far from him. The duke showed every sign of being irascible for the rest of his life, but he also showed signs of trying to be a different man. They almost argued several times, as they disagreed about the best care for Brook, and at one point the duke threw down his napkin and looked as if he were about to leave. But he took a deep breath and stayed. The sudden deep breath was a characteristic Calista had noticed in Brook, and she wondered how much of his father’s temper he had, but suppressed. It must have taken a lot of self-control to not give in to the darker forces in his nature, because he was determined not to be h
is father. But he had also suffered a serious head injury. Even if he awoke, might it change him, releasing those darker forces? It was something she would worry about if and when he awoke. The important thing was that he did wake up.

  The duke stayed for the rest of the afternoon, watching over his son whilst Calista slept for a few hours. Not that she slept well. She kept waking suddenly, certain that she had heard Brook’s voice cry out.

  “You did not tell me what happened with your investigation,” Calista said to the duke as he was leaving. “Do you know who shot Brook?”

  “I have an idea. And I am afraid it is my fault, Calista. May I call you Calista?”

  “Yes, you may.”

  “It was young Purbeck, I believe. He has fled to the continent and I doubt he shall return. I have played games with too many young men just like him, letting them believe they have a chance of being named my heir whilst I have them dancing around me, doing my bidding. Most get bored of being my puppets and move on. It is fair to say that they are not always the most intelligent of young men, and have no real idea of the laws of primogeniture. Purbeck really believed I intended to name him as my heir. No doubt aided by your step-sister, who had her eye on being the duchess.”

  “She could have been,” said Calista. “I think Brook… I think he cares for her.”

  “Then you are a bigger fool than I thought.” The duke did not speak unkindly. “And if you are right and my son cares for her and not you, then he is also a bigger fool than I thought.”

  “I do believe that was a compliment, Your Grace.” Calista smiled.

  “Treasure it. I shall not make many more.” The duke smiled too. It was clear he was not used to it as the smile dropped almost immediately. “Thank you for giving an old man a second chance. I only hope that if my son awakes, he will do the same.”

  “I will be your strongest champion, Your Grace.”

  “I do not deserve that, but thank you again.”

  Calista bid him farewell, then went back upstairs. She lay down on the bed next to Brook, as she had done so since he was carried there. She reached her hand out and put it on his chest and wondered if she only imagined that his breathing seemed a little easier. She almost jumped out of her skin when he suddenly turned to face her, his grey eyes piercing into her.

  “Brook! You’re awake.” She would have sat up, but his arm moved across her body and pinned her down. “Do you know who I am?”

  “Yes, you’re Boadicea.”

  Her heart dropped. He had lost his memory. “No, I am Calista. Your … wife.”

  “Strange. In the dream I had earlier, you were definitely Boadicea, charging at my father, before thwarting him and turning him into a very willing slave. Tell me, who are you and what have you done with my timid little wife?”

  “Your father was here.”

  “I know. I heard you talking to him. I was awake all the time he sat with me too, but I wanted to gather my strength before dealing with him.”

  “He wants to make things up to you. He really means it…” Before Calista could finish her sentence, Brook had pinned her to the bed and covered her lips with his.

  “I am not interested in my father at the moment,” he said, when he finally raised his head. He still had her pinned to the bed. She could feel his breath against her cheek, and felt an uncontrollable desire to pull him closer to her. “Only in the woman who has lain at my side for two days, and what she said about me to him.”

  “He said he wanted to put you in a hospital.” Oh please do not let him have heard everything, she prayed silently. “And I merely told him I would not allow it.”

  “I heard that too.”

  “Why did you not say you were awake?”

  “It was such an interesting conversation I did not want to stop it.” While he spoke, he ran his hands over her body, sending delicious tremors down her spine. “I learned so much.”

  “You are not well,” she said. “It would not be wise to exert yourself.”

  “Then,” he said, kissing her between words, “you … will … have … to … be … very … very … gentle … with … me.” Much to her regret he stopped kissing her and became more serious. “Because I have no intentions of allowing my father or anyone else to annul this marriage.”

  Calista had more or less come to the same decision. “I think you should at least wait until you were well.”

  “No. I have a feeling that by then you will have found a way to avoid me.”

  She stroked his cheek. “No, I will not. I promise I will not. I am here to stay … for as long as you want me.”

  “Forever it is then.” He enfolded her in his arms, and despite her admittedly half-hearted protestations, would not be persuaded to rest.

  “Are you alright?” she whispered several hours later. Her grey dress lay in a heap on the floor, and she lay in a very contented heap in Brook’s arms. Even if he did not love her, she had been left in no doubt that he liked her very much.

  “You have not succeeded in killing me yet.”

  “Oh do not joke about such things. Not after what happened.”

  “Tell me that you love me,” he said drowsily.

  “I love you.” She waited, longing and hoping he would say it in return. Even if he did not really mean it, in the sweet afterglow of their lovemaking she was quite happy to be lied to. But he was already fast asleep. She tried to content herself with his promise that they would be together forever. Surely it must mean he was fond of her, if nothing else.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Brook spent most of the morning sleeping, and Calista feared he might have a relapse. But by luncheon he insisted on getting dressed. Luncheon was then delayed somewhat by him deciding, whilst Calista was helping him to put on his shirt, that being undressed was much more pleasurable. She could not deny that he had a point.

  In the afternoon, they received several visitors. The duke returned, along with Lady Bedlington, Evelyn and Mr. Benedict who all naturally wanted to see how Brook fared. The latter three had all called in whilst he was unconscious, but there had been very little they could do for him other than allow him to rest and to heal. Calista also realized, with some embarrassment, that she might have been a little bit possessive about him and therefore given them the impression that their help was not needed.

  They met in the drawing room, where Brook reclined on a chaise longue, looking more attractive than ever in a loose fitting white shirt and black breeches.

  The duke seemed a little ill at ease to begin with, but everyone seemed to take their cue from Calista, who treated him as if he had always been a part of the circle, encouraging him to join in their conversations when he seemed to flag a little.

  Evelyn had worrying news. “Blanche went out yesterday morning and did not return.”

  “Is it possible she has gone to the continent with Purbeck?” asked Brook. Calista had told him what his father discovered.

  “That is what we thought,” said Evelyn. “But then last night we received word that she had married.”

  “Married? To whom?” asked Calista.

  “You will not believe this. I can hardly believe it myself. As far as I am aware they have not spoken more than a couple of words to each other.”

  “Not the King?” said Brook with a wry smile. “I would not put it past Blanche, though she is not quite homely enough for his tastes.” Calista felt the familiar sting of jealousy, not much helped by him suggesting the Earl had ‘homely’ tastes. Was that how Brook saw her? Homely? Her feeling of envy was not much helped by her mild resentment that she was having to share him with others when she would much rather be alone with him. She realized she was being unreasonable, but her insecurity about his feelings for her overrode any other emotions. Not that she let anyone see how she felt. She was the perfect hostess, making sure they all had drinks.

  “No, not the King,” said Evelyn, smiling sadly. “The Earl of Garton.”

  “What?” Calista almost dropped her cup of
coffee.

  “He’s been on the lookout for a wife, as you know,” said Mr. Benedict. “And I think when Blanche found out about what happened to Brook, she realized she might be implicated.”

  “There is no proof of that,” said Evelyn, quickly.

  “I am sure she would not have been,” said Brook.

  “She managed to put herself in Garton’s way,” said Mr. Benedict.

  “I cannot decide whom I should wish more luck to,” said Lady Bedlington. “Him or her. Oh, Evelyn, do not look like that. You know the girl is an absolute tartar. With any luck, she’ll be just what Garton needs.”

  Calista did not fancy the Earl of Garton’s chances of living very long with Blanche as a wife, but she did not say so as she did not want to hurt Evelyn’s feelings. Instead she looked under her lashes at Brook to try and ascertain how he had taken the news of Blanche’s marriage. The information only served to remind her of how she came to be his wife. He had merely saved her from a bad situation, out of kindness and nobility.

  That he desired her as a woman was without doubt, but she knew little of men, so did not know if they behaved differently when they were in love with a woman. Would his kisses be more ardent if he were with Blanche? It was hard to imagine how they could be, but she had to accept it was a possibility.

  As Evelyn and Mr. Benedict made to leave, they had happier news for everyone. “We are to be married,” said Mr. Benedict, putting his arm around Evelyn’s shoulder. “We hope that it will put right a wrong we did many years ago.”

  Calista ran to kiss them both. “I am so happy for you,” she said, unaccountably struck by sudden tears. She forced them back not wanting to spoil Evelyn and Mr. Benedict’s moment. “I wish you a long and wonderful life together.”

  “Thank you, dearest,” said Evelyn. “I can marry much more contentedly knowing that you are now provided for.”

  “I told you I would never hold you back.”

  “I know that, dearest.”