“I’ve given him a heavy dose of laudanum, and he’s as comfortable as possible under the circumstances.” The surgeon paused. “I’m going to summon a specialist from London for a second opinion. Perhaps he might offer you more guidance.”
Mr. Pepper rushed into Ash’s room, while Dr. Fitton gave instructions to Sybil about how best to care for her brother. Although she desperately wanted to see Ash, she forced herself to listen carefully to the information the surgeon wished to impart.
When he was finished, Sybil escorted him to the door. “Thank you for coming so quickly, Dr. Fitton.”
“I only wish I could give you better news. I’m off to send a telegram to Dr. Moss in London, asking him to come tomorrow or the next day.”
Another agonized wail echoed down the hallway and Sybil cringed.
The surgeon frowned. “I don’t want to give you false hope, but the fact that Ash is feeling pain might be a good sign.” He shook his head. “We’ll see.”
After Dr. Fitton left, Sybil slumped onto the wooden floor of the entryway. She’d taken care of Ash since their mother had died over ten years ago and couldn’t conceive of a world in which he wasn’t completely happy and hale. Desperate for more help than any physician could offer, she folded her hands together, closed her eyes, and bowed her head for a long moment in prayer.
With a deep breath, she got to her feet, threw back her shoulders, and tried to compose herself. What her family needed most of all now was strength and optimism, and she vowed to provide both for as long as she could.
∞∞∞
Mayfair, London
Euphemia missed Ash with such ferocity she took little pleasure in her social schedule. Although she knew her uncle would never allow her to write to him, she’d sent letters to his sister every week, poking fun at whatever bombastic baronet, fatuous viscount, or querulous marquess had been unfortunate enough to earn her censure. She hoped Sybil would let her brother read her missives, thereby allaying his fears regarding other suitors. For some reason, Miss Pepper had not answered any of her letters, but Euphemia would not be dissuaded.
In her present letter, she mentioned the ladies’ tea she’d just attended, at which poetry was read. To her delight, one of Ash’s recently published poems had been featured in the program. The hostess and her guests had reacted with avid interest when Euphemia mentioned her passing acquaintance with the author. In closing, she suggested that Ash have a poetry reading in town before the end of the Season, saying the event would likely be well attended.
She rang for her maid and gave her the letter. “Post this right away for me.”
Nell curtsied. “Yes, Miss Exeter.”
When Euphemia was alone, she took a moment to imagine how wonderful it would be if Ash came to London. Uncle Quincy could not prevent her from seeing him—not if he were a featured guest at a soirée or a literary event. His work was so well-received, from what she’d witnessed, he might even be able to work his way into society—not that he cared about such things. Neither did she, if truth be told. Such matters were of more interest to her uncle.
Nell appeared in the doorway of Euphemia’s bedroom, not two minutes after she left.
“Begging your pardon, Miss Exeter, but your uncle has requested your presence in his study.” The young woman gulped. “Immediately.”
Euphemia frowned. “Thank you, Nell. I’ll join him directly.”
As she descended the staircase, she wondered if the Randolphs’ ball that night had been canceled, or perhaps she’d been extended an invitation to Court? Whatever the reason, her uncle’s summons had clearly unsettled the maid. Why did his manner always have to be so gruff?
She entered the study, where Uncle Quincy was gazing at a portrait of her parents over the fireplace. His expression seemed sad, and she felt a rare tug of sympathy for the man. In her own grief at losing her parents at sea three years ago, she sometimes forgot he’d also suffered the loss of his elder brother and sister-in-law.
He turned to give her a smile. “I take my guardianship responsibilities very seriously, you know. Zeke and Amanda always spoke of you marrying well, and I mean to make that happen.”
“I understand you have my best interests at heart, Uncle Quincy, but perhaps your definition of marrying well and mine are different.”
“In this circumstance, my definition and that of your parents are one and the same.” His smile slipped. “Zeke entrusted me with your future, and I mean to make him proud.”
Her sympathy evaporated when she noticed the envelope in his hand—the wax seal of which had been broken.
“What are you doing with my letter? I asked Nell to put it in the post!”
“I instructed the staff to give all your correspondence to me.” He lifted a bundle of letters from one of the drawers and tossed it onto the desk. “You may have these letters back, if you like. It’s rather a shame Miss Pepper will never read them since they were terribly entertaining.”
Her lips parted in shock and betrayal. “None of those letters were directed to Ash. You’ve no right to invade my privacy!”
“As your guardian, I may do whatever I believe is in your best interest. Furthermore, although I commend you for your restraint as far as Mr. Pepper is concerned, the entire Pepper family is beneath your notice. I forbid you from speaking with any of them in the future.”
“This is outrageous, sir. How can you treat me as if I were a wayward child?”
“Wayward might be an apt description, but I shan’t let you ruin your life because of a few childish impulses. In fact, I have some good news. Gerald Reeves, Viscount Fallows, has made you an offer of marriage.”
Her fury at her uncle’s officiousness was supplanted for the moment by apprehension. Lord Fallows had spoken with her a few times that Season, but she’d never discerned any particular regard on his part. Most certainly she had no regard for him, so why would he make her an offer?
“No.” She shuddered as she pictured the man. “Lord Fallows is ill-favored and likely ill-tempered as well. The match is simply impossible.”
For some reason her uncle didn’t seem to share her disdain. “Not at all. In fact, I’ve accepted his offer on your behalf.”
She felt the impact of his reply all the way to the soles of her embroidered peau de soie slippers. “Uncle Quincy, have you lost your senses? I’m sure a different girl would discern many admirable qualities in Lord Fallows, but I find him repulsive!”
“What does that matter? You must marry a man with a title, and the viscount is in need of your wealth. Seems an equitable arrangement.”
“But I don’t care for him at all!”
He made a sound of frustration. “You’ve been unpardonably rude to every other aristocrat in London and are in the midst of your third Season with no fiancé in sight. Since Lord Fallows is willing to overlook your cold nature, he is perfect.”
“He’s a perfect toad.” As soon as she spoke, she regretted her incivility. The viscount was not attractive, perhaps, but it was beneath her to poke fun at his appearance. “I didn’t mean to be cruel about his looks just now, but I could never consider accepting his proposal.”
“I’m sure he is a perfect toad, but the decision has been made.” He cocked his head. “If you are still harboring romantic notions about Mr. Ashley Pepper, you’re a fool. He had a rather nasty spill from his horse, you see, and may not walk again.”
“What?” Euphemia recoiled. “When? You cannot be telling me the truth!”
“If you don’t believe me, believe his sister. A London specialist, Dr. Moss, has examined the young man and pronounced his injury to be profound.” He gave her a letter. “Read it for yourself.”
Her hands were trembling as she picked up the missive. “Why would Miss Pepper write to you?”
“The incident occurred at Bishop’s End, for one thing.”
As Euphemia read the elegant script, she was obliged to sink down into the nearest chair. Afterward, she gave her uncle a bewildered sta
re.
“Miss Pepper thanks you for your assistance.” She shook her head. “The accident happened the day we left Grantham and you never said a word to me about it?”
He shrugged. “I saw no need to upset you. When I discovered what had happened to the young man, I sent our driver over with a cart to help.”
Realization dawned. “Wait a moment…I heard a pistol shot that morning, when I was riding back to the stables.” Her stare became accusing. “You told me you were shooting at an adder!”
“So I was, but Mr. Pepper’s horse took fright. If I hadn’t rendered him assistance, the lad would likely have perished.” He sighed. “Of course, his demise might have been for the best. I doubt if he can father children, given the extent of his injuries.”
Blood rushed to Euphemia’s cheeks. “His demise wouldn’t have been for the best, as you put it, and your speculation is needlessly vulgar.”
His voice softened. “Don’t you care at all about the young man’s feelings? As long as you are unmarried, the poor fellow will torture himself with thoughts of what might have been. If you had any sense of decency, you would accept Lord Fallows’ proposal and put unfortunate Mr. Pepper out of his misery.”
Overcome with emotion, Euphemia turned her face away. The thought of Ash suffering and in pain brought tears to her eyes and made her feel more helpless than she could ever have imagined. If only she could be by his side, to reassure him she would always love him despite his injuries. Unfortunately, her uncle would never permit her to leave London. In fact, the more she fought Uncle Quincy, the tighter his iron grip would grow, and the likelihood she would ever see Ash again would diminish accordingly. She would have to play along with the idiotic engagement until her uncle’s vigilance relaxed.
Euphemia glanced up to discover her uncle watching her.
“You have a point, sad to say.” She hoped her sigh was heavy without seeming overwrought. “I’ll marry Lord Fallows, but I must be allowed to pick the date of the wedding. I’ve always wanted to have a Christmas ceremony.”
He smirked. “I don’t care when you wed, so long as it’s at least a fortnight before your birthday in November. The sooner, the better, actually, since a viscount can certainly procure a special license.”
Her temper flared as she realized her uncle’s intention all along was to marry her off before his guardianship ended.
“In that case, a wedding on All Hallows Eve will be appropriate.” Euphemia drew herself up to her full height. “The bride will wear black.”
She snatched the bundle of letters from the desk and strode from the room.
A Personal Request from the Author
I love to write, but I can’t do it without you. If you enjoyed My Fair Guardian, would you consider leaving a review? Not only would I like to hear your thoughts, but your review is very helpful to other readers. Thank you in advance!
Suzanne G. Rogers
About the Author
Originally from Southern California, Suzanne G. Rogers currently resides in beautiful Savannah, Georgia on an island populated by exotic birds, deer, turtles, otters, and gators. Tab is her beverage of choice but a cranberry vodka martini doesn’t go amiss.
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Historical Romance Titles
by Suzanne G. Rogers
A Gift for Lara (Love Letters • Book One)
A Gift for Fiona (Love Letters • Book Two)
Larken (Graceling Hall • Book One)
Lord Apollo & the Colleen (Graceling Hall • Book Two)
Ruse & Romance (The Beaucroft Girls • Book One)
Rake & Romance (The Beaucroft Girls • Book Two)
Jessamine’s Folly
Duke of a Gilded Age
The Ice Captain’s Daughter
The Mannequin (The Mannequin • Book One)
Grace Unmasked (The Mannequin • Book Two)
The Star-Crossed Seamstress (The Mannequin • Book Three)
Spinster
Lady Fallows’ Secrets
My Fair Guardian
Fantasy Titles
by Suzanne G. Rogers
The Last Great Wizard of Yden (Yden • Book One)
Dragon Clan of Yden (Yden • Book Two)
Secrets of Yden (Yden • Book Three)
Dani & the Immortals
The Dragon Rider’s Daughter
Clash of Wills
Tournament of Chance: Dragon Rebel
Magical Misperception
Whimsical Tendencies
My Fair Guardian Page 27