“Thank you, Pierson,” she answered, a slight tremor in her voice. “I’ll wait here.”
It seemed to take ages for Pierson to return with any word about Gideon, but Luci managed to calm herself as she paced the floor. Her thoughts kept returning to his letter…
…My darling wife… I’m so sorry for the pain I’ve caused you… anything you ask of me is yours…
How quickly her sentiments had changed from utter loathing of a cold and distant stranger to adoration for a beloved husband. Luci could no longer think of being apart from Gideon, no matter how wretched a thing he might have done.
“My Lady, Sir Morrison has not finished treating Lord Ambergrave,” Pierson said after emerging and closing the door behind him. “He asks that you give him some more time, then he will seek you out to tell you how the Marquess is doing.”
“I can be patient, I suppose,” Luci replied, attempting to sound brave. “Thank you, I will wait right here.”
“Shall I have something sent up for you? Your tea, perhaps?” the butler offered kindly, but Luci shook her head.
By the time Sir Morrison was finished and came out to speak to Luci, another hour had passed. His face, though naturally grim due to the nature of his work, brightened considerably when he saw her waiting there.
“My dear Luc—I mean, Lady Ambergrave,” he said, taking her hands in his. “It has been too long. I don’t think I’ve called on you since you fell from a tree, trying to prove to your governess that you could drop an egg without it breaking.”
“Sir Morrison, it is good to see you again,” she answered sweetly. “And as I recall, the egg wasn’t the only thing that broke that day. But it healed nicely, thanks to you.”
“Ah yes. Mending broken fingers is a particular specialty of mine, I plan to soon chair a professorship at the Royal College specifically on childhood maladies of the digits.” Sir Morrison laughed loudly, then became somewhat more serious.
“I suppose you are waiting for news of your husband’s injuries,” he said, lowering his voice slightly. “Unfortunately, this is no simple matter that I can simply bind with a strip of gauze and allow it to mend on its own.”
“What happened to him?” Luci questioned. “I only know he was met with danger on the road, but no one has told me why.”
“I shall allow him to tell you that tale, I am merely the physician,” Sir Morrison said, his blue eyes twinkling beneath his bushy, gray, grandfatherly eyebrows. “Though he is in a very poor state at the moment, I think he will be fine in a matter of a week or two. His ribs are giving me the most cause for concern at the moment. At least two are broken but I don’t believe they have punctured the lung beneath.”
“Oh, that is wonderful news,” Luci said, sighing. But Sir Morrison shook his head.
“It is, though the threat of illness is always increased in cases such as these. The patient attempts to reduce their pain by breathing very shallowly, and that—coupled with the sort of bedrest his other injuries will require—can lead to infection.”
“As I know all too well,” Luci thought miserably, remembering her own brush with death too recently.
Sir Morrison looked confused, but then continued. “But there is another matter. Lord Ambergrave was beaten about the head, and he may have also struck it upon the ground when he fell. That is also cause for concern, and we must keep a careful watch over him for the next few days.”
“Do not worry, he will not be unattended,” Luci assured him.
“Of course not, My Lady. But Lord Ambergrave spoke to me of a treatment he has been receiving from his own physician, something to do with an old injury.” Sir Morrison looked thoughtful for a moment, then shrugged his shoulders. “It is not a regimen that I am familiar with, but I do know that he should continue his treatments as soon as he is able. He said that they helped him greatly, but as of late, his leg has been hurting again.”
Luci thanked Sir Morrison before the older gentleman left. She hesitated for a moment before opening the door to see Gideon, though her heart fluttering unpleasantly before she reached for the handle.
What if he is cross with me? Heartfelt confessions in a moment of agony are one thing, but seeing me face-to-face is something else entirely. Luci shook the unhappy thought from her mind and dwelt instead on the better news—Gideon had ridden all this way in the first place to see her. Surely it meant he wished to see her.
Luci opened the door and peeked inside. Someone had darkened the room by drawing the curtains and dousing any lamps, making it difficult to see Gideon. She stepped inside and closed the door silently behind her, then took a hesitating step closer. Was he sleeping? She dared not risk disturbing him, but Luci had to be sure he was all right, to see him with her own eyes.
“Luci?” Gideon whispered. “Is that you?”
“It is,” she answered with a smile. “How did you know?”
“You’re the only one I’ve wanted to see. I’ve been waiting for you,” he answered, though his words were slurred and dulled from the physician’s ministrations. “I think… I think I may have hurt myself.”
Luci giggled softly. “Leave it to you to tease at a time like this, you who could not have been paid a ransom to smile for the first month we knew each other.”
“I had no reason to before,” Gideon replied, the words barely audible as he breathed against the pain in his side. “Not until after I knew you.”
She knew not how to respond to such a stirring confession, but when Gideon held out his hand to her, she took it.
“I have to… I’m sorry, Luci.” Gideon struggled for more air then said, “I’ve hurt you so much. But what I said about your father, what I did—”
“No,” Luci said firmly. “We shall not talk of that now. It is not more important than your health.”
“But I must… I’m so very sorry for telling you like that…”
“Apology accepted, now we shall not discuss it. I am putting my foot down,” Luci said lightly. “Someday we shall clear the air and my father shall have the chance to defend his name to you. But it isn’t today.”
“My girl…” Gideon said, then he closed his eyes to sleep.
Gideon awoke the next morning to find that everything was still dark. If not for a faint sliver of light entering the room where the curtains met, he would have wondered if he’d gone blind. Once his eyes adjusted, he saw something that made his breath catch in his already wounded chest.
Luci.
Seated in a chair, she’d slumped over during the night until her head rested gently on her arms at the foot of the bed. She was twisted painfully, and Gideon wished to pick her up and carry her to the comfort of her bed.
What must she think of me? I confessed to destroying her father’s fortune and marrying her only to spite him, yet her she waits at my bedside. What sort of creature is she to be so caring to one who has been so callous with her heart?
Watching her sleep, Gideon longed to reach for her, to pull her close and kiss her softly the way they had kissed that day near the stable. He lacked the strength to hold her though, but worse, he worried that she lacked the will.
Trying not to wake her, Gideon sought to shift his position to ease the ache that run through his limbs. Luci stirred in her sleep as he moved so he froze, watching her to make sure he did not disturb her again. He stayed still for so long that a numb feeling crept over his feet, exacerbating the pain in his legs.
“Gideon?” Luci asked in a sleepy voice when she felt him move at last. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine,” he answered honestly. “Only sore. And perhaps a bit confused as well. What day do you suppose it is?”
“I can’t be sure,” she teased. “But you’ve only been here a day, if that’s what you’re wondering.”
“Oh good. The way I feel, it could have been weeks and I would not be more surprised.” Gideon was quiet, wondering what to say next.
For her part, Luci did not offer anything else, either. She sat up and
patted her hair, then smoothed the wrinkles from her gown.
“Would you like some light?” she offered, standing up. “I can open the curtains, if you like.”
“Perhaps only a little?” Gideon replied with a weak laugh. “I was not fully honest, my head is hurting greatly.”
“Then only a tiny bit, I promise,” Luci assured him. Rather than opening the curtains, she merely folded one side back and secured it with a chair, but even that small amount of light made Gideon wince and cover his eyes briefly. “I’m sorry, but it will help you to wake up and get stronger.”
“Oh, how the tables have turned in the cruelest way,” he said, feigning a dramatic pose with his hands over his eyes. “Only how long ago was I the one sitting vigil at your bedside, ensuring you were well cared for?”
“I don’t know, but I doubt any other marriage has had such an unlucky and unhealthy start,” she said playfully. “Shall we make a pact that neither of us is to take ill ever again?”
“I choose to think we just got it all behind us in the early days. It will be nothing but health and vitality from now on,” Gideon retorted, trying to smile for Luci’s sake. His expression turned darker, though, as a new worry came to mind. “Luci, we must speak of unpleasant past events.”
“No, there’s no need of such things. Those are in the past. If I can resolve to not think of them again, then I can ask the same of you,” she insisted without meeting his gaze.
“But I cannot put them behind me, not in the way you can,” he explained, a sense of shame welling up inside him as he confessed these things. “I’ve lived the last ten years of my life plotting revenge, biding my time, setting things into motion with the express purpose of ripping them away in a cruel manner. I cannot just ignore that.”
“Then explain, please,” Luci said, sitting up straight and preparing to hear the worst. “Once it is spoken between us, then we can move on and lock those unpleasant things away forever.”
Gideon shook his head sadly. “I’m afraid it will never turn out that way. Once I say these things to you, I can never take them back. I’ve already hurt you once—no, twice—with the things I’ve said. I accused you of a terrible act, then I admitted that I was false in my desire for you to be my wife. I hurt you deeply both times, and it was because I had not chosen the proper words to explain. What if I muck it up again and this time, you cannot forgive me?”
“Well then, I vow to forgive you,” she replied brightly.
“Luci,” Gideon said, laughing. “You know words don’t work that way, either. They are the most powerful thing in the world. They have the power to melt a frozen heart and make someone fall in love, they have the power to destroy a man and make him bitter and old before his time. With a mere word, a king can take his country to war. You cannot simply promise to ignore what you hear.”
Luci was somber, silent. Gideon knew he was right but more importantly, Luci now knew it, too. She appeared to be thinking it over, but he had left her no choice. They would speak of these things, but it would be painful, agonizing even.
“All right. I am ready,” she announced formally. “But are you? Are you certain you are strong enough? Gideon, I do understand that you need to tell me what happened, but I also know that you’ve waited so long to put it behind you… another few days to ensure your good health will not cause you any harm.”
“I will never be able to rest until I know you have heard me and I know your heart after what you hear,” he replied, no longer looking at her.
“Then I am ready.”
Chapter 30
Luci’s mind raced as Gideon’s story unfolded. Her heart whiplashed between anguish and anger, fear and trepidation. Through it all, no matter how difficult it became, she tried to be brave for him. Most of all, she tried to rid her mind of thoughts that could cause more distance between them.
“But I still do not understand,” she said at one point. “It is not from disbelief in your story that I say this, but tell me how my father is responsible for their deaths.”
“Simple. His negligence and even his own purposeful intention sank the ship they were traveling on,” Gideon answered, his voice trembling only a little. “He sought to pay off some of his debts with the insurance from the loss of his ship. My parents’ lives paid the price.”
“But you told me they died in a fire,” she argued, then softened her tone. “At least, that’s what I thought you said.”
“No, they were not at home that night. They were sailing for Spain and had already perished. When I learned of their passing...” He pressed his lips together in a tight line as tears threatened to take hold of him. “…I lost all control over myself. I flew into a rage, one induced by grief and shamefully improper quantities of my father’s whisky. When I finally wore myself out from screaming and ranting, I fell into a stupor and stumbled, causing a lamp to turn over before I blacked out.”
“And so the fire… the one in which you were burned?” Luci asked gently. “You believe you were the one to cause it, and perhaps that is true. But how are you the one responsible for your parents’ deaths? Even if what you say about my father is true—and I cannot say for certain that it is or it is not, though I pray to God you are mistaken—that would not mean you were the cause, as well.”
“They were traveling because of me,” Gideon confessed, the tears he’d tried to hold back finally spilling over. “I was an unruly boy and a horrible student. I had no care for lessons or teachers, only outdoors adventures and pursuits.”
“Ah, so that is why your mother sought to build a school?” Luci asked, laughing kindly.
“Oh no, that was a concept she treasured and was patron of even before I was born. It was merely a further embarrassment that I should be so opposed to being taught,” Gideon said. “My parents even tried sending me to the village school with the other children, in hopes that seeing how desperately they wanted to learn and improve themselves might make me more… appreciative, I suppose?”
“And I assume it had no effect?”
“None at all. In fact, I was a horrible influence on the other pupils, I think. I was constantly being whipped and ridiculed for my lack of understanding or my insolent behavior.” Gideon grimaced. “All it served was to cause me to run away. I would set out for school and steal off into the woods for the day instead, spending my time with the animals and the trees instead of tutors and teachers.”
Luci smiled benevolently and patted Gideon’s hand. “But you are remedying the situation. You continue to support the school, you’ve grown its numbers. You even ensure that Collin attends school when I’m certain he would rather play in the fields and ride horses. Am I correct?”
“Quite so. But I have been sure to be forthcoming with him about my own failings lest he end up in my position,” Gideon added, his eyes wide. “It is a source of great humiliation that I am rather dull, I think.”
“Now I shall have to disagree,” Luci said loudly, holding his hand even tighter. “You are not dull, in fact, you are a very successful man of business and a property holder. You are also working diligently to ensure that those who come up after you learn from your mistakes and have every opportunity they choose. I think that demonstrates you are rather smart.”
“Thank you, your opinion matters a great deal to me, I find.” Gideon smiled at her, watching her face for so long that Luci looked away, rather embarrassed. He waited a moment, and then asked, “But what do you think?”
“Of your terrible tragedy and the entire ordeal?” Luci asked. Gideon nodded. “I think you’re a very brave person to even get out of bed each day. I cannot imagine what I would do if I were to learn that my parents had died, and in such an awful way as to drown at sea. But you cannot continue to blame yourself.”
“It’s the only way I know how to make sense of it all. I was the cause of their journey, and then my reckless, childish behavior was the cause of the fire. I have no one to blame but myself… and your father, of course.”
“Yes, well, I intend to get to the bottom of that myself,” Luci assured him. “But your parents chose to take that journey. The heavens chose to send that storm. If there’s any truth to it, my father might be the one who caused the ship to sink, though I can only hope there is some other explanation.”
“Regardless, dear husband… none of that was your doing. And you cannot continue to punish yourself or those around you for what may very well be an unfortunate turn of fate.”
Luci held his hand to her cheek, letting the warmth of her skin soothe Gideon’s torment. She turned his hand so that his palm might face her, then pressed her lips there softly.
“You should rest now,” Luci said, placing his arm across his chest and pulling the covers up around him. “I’ll send someone to sit with you and to bring you your breakfast.”
“Where are you going?” he asked longingly.
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