"I promise not to," he said dryly.
"Now to the left is a dresser, with a mirror on top, and five drawers. In the corner is a rack for boots and shoes. To the left of that, on the adjacent wall, is the bedside table, then we have the bed."
He moved into the room and felt along each piece of furniture carefully, with Sarah guiding his hand as necessary, reveling in the contact with his huge, powerful body.
"Here to the right hand side of the room, we have an upright chair, and wardrobe. On that wall is the first window, and there's a desk and chair under it. In the corner is an armchair. On the far wall is the second window, which is a bay one with a window seat.
"In the final corner of the room is the screen and chamber pot. Next to it is another wardrobe, with both hanging space, and some slots for your shirts, as well as three drawers underneath. You and my brother are pretty nearly the same size, so I shall help you match up a selection of things to wear, until we can get some things made for you, or go to a shop where they have items ready to wear."
"I wouldn't want to put you to any trouble or expense."
"No trouble at all. Jonathan's wardrobe is nothing fancy now that he's a vicar. He does have a lot of new clothes, which he had made or which I made for the wedding, but he's taken most of them with him on his trip. So everything which has been left behind here, he really doesn't care very much about. You're welcome to any of it. As for the money, he's a humble clergyman, but the living is a good one."
She was glad he couldn't see her blushing at her fib. He would probably run a mile if he discovered just how wealthy she really was. Or try to take advantage of her...
But no, she had met her fair share of fortune hunters. He was only embarrassed about his straitened circumstances because he didn't wish to be an imposition.
"You're too kind, Sarah."
"Don't mention it. And now that you've reached that corner, I shall withdraw politely, and go about my morning ablutions. I shall send Caleb up with some hot water and something hot to drink, and see you in about half an hour?"
"That will be fine. I'll take your advice and go back to bed."
"See you soon."
He waved at her.
She shut the door with a sigh and a song on her lips and descended to the kitchen to place the order for breakfast. Caleb was happy to help the young man, and filled a tray with toast, tea, marmalade and chocolate.
"That's to tide him over until the wife can get the rest of it cooked."
Sarah grinned. If she knew Jenny, she would stuff Alexander like a Christmas goose. "Very good. And if you can bring him some hot water and soap for his hands, and some clean linens for after his bath this morning, that will be most helpful."
"He just had a bath," Caleb said in surprise.
"It eased his pain considerably."
"In that case, I shall get the fire going again post haste," he said, bustling off.
Sarah was pleased he didn't resent the newcomer after all, and was in fact quite eager to help him. She went into her study to fetch the papers where Caleb usually left them for her, and looked around the room. With a day bed made up by the hearth, she could do her ledgers and correspondence and still keep an eye on her guest. She still had a pile of letters, and was sure she had seen the familiar writing of her friend Randall Avenel's secretary, and even one from Gareth Cavendish addressed to her brother.
They would certainly all be surprised to hear Pamela and Jonathan were married, Sarah thought with a happy smile. And that Ashton Manor was empty and ready for Gareth any time he was able to take up the reins as steward. And if there was a letter from Blake Sanderson, she would be able to make further plans for him taking over as chief medical officer at the women's clinic. Perhaps he could even visit for a few days, give his professional opinion on Alexander's condition.
Wouldn't that be wonderful? she thought, delighted at the prospect of doing more to help her unusual visitor.
When Caleb came back down again to empty the chamber pot and ready everything for Alexander's bath, she asked what he thought of bringing the spare divan down from the box room.
"A good idea. I'll fetch it and get it made up in a trice."
"My er, my cousin will be most grateful for your help."
"What shall we call him, Miss?"
"Oh, um, Mr. Alexander will do nicely."
"Very good, Miss. I shall tell Jenny."
He scurried off to do his errands.
Sarah went into the Wedgwood drawing room to keep out of his way whilst he got the day bed ready. She opened the windows in the sitting room to let in the fresh spring breeze, and moved a few more pieces of furniture out of the way to make it less cluttered for her visitor.
She went up to her room to fetch a dark-blue wool day gown and fresh undergarments. A pair of dark cotton stockings and her good sturdy boots would complete her outfit. Her only ornaments were some dark hair ribbons to match the gown, and her gold and sapphire cross, a gift from her brother and as such her most precious ornament.
She placed her things in the bathroom, and tested the water. Since it was still not hot enough, she went into the kitchen to see Jenny, who was just putting the finishing touches to the breakfast tray.
"It looks wonderful."
"I'll bring it up to him, Miss."
"No need. I'll keep an eye on him upstairs, and read to him."
"Very good, Miss."
Sarah blinked. If she didn't know better, she would have said the dour old Jenny was smiling.
She placed the papers on the tray and went upstairs. She found Alexander lying on his back, propped against the headboard with his eyes closed.
"Are you feeling poorly again?" she asked softly, leaning over to whisper almost in his ear.
He stretched and gave a slow smile that could only be described as sensual. Her mouth went dry at his magnificence. If anything he was even more spectacular clad in the velvet robe, which offer her tantalizing peeps of his rippling chest.
"No, I'm fine. Just enjoying the birdsong and the sunshine on my face."
"No headache today?"
"None. Your ministrations were most efficacious." He smiled again, showing a dazzlingly fine set of teeth.
She was so stunned she nearly dropped the tray. Only as she fumbled with it did she recall that she was in fact still carrying it.
"I'm glad you're feeling well. Now, I'm going to put the tray on your lap."
He sat up a bit more and she placed it carefully on his thighs. She handed him a napkin, which he tucked into the top of the dressing gown and smoothed out.
She took her own plate and put it on the bedside table, along with some cutlery and a napkin. She filled a teacup and placed it on his tray. Then she handed him a fork, tines down. She moved his right hand around the plate clockwise. "Bacon, sausage, black pudding, eggs, mushrooms, tomatoes, potatoes, all in bite-sized pieces." She took his left hand. "Cup, toast, butter, marmalade."
"Very good. Thank you."
"Enjoy."
"I shall. It smells wonderful."
"I'm going to read from the paper if that's all right. Let me know what interests you, and if you need me to pour you any more tea."
"I will, thank you."
She seated herself by the bedstead, and began to read the headlines.
"Oh my," she gasped in dismay.
"What is it? What's wrong?"
"Some bad news. There's been more fighting. At the city of Bayonne. The First and Fifth Divisions. Our friend Gareth is there, in the Fifth Division."
"But Napoleon was deposed by the Senate, and abdicated! I don't understand," he said, sounding distraught.
"Here, I'll read it to you.
"'It is our sad duty to report yet another action which took place after Bonaparte had already abdicated. The gallant Sir John Hope had been besieging the town of Bayonne since the 27th of February. The Governor of that town, one Monsieur Thouvenot, decided to launch a sortie for the sake of his amour propre, even know
ing that no other result could come of it than the shedding of still more blood. It has resulted in the deaths of over seventeen hundred souls in purposeless slaughter. It was pure spite and a shameless attack upon a more relaxed force since the general situation of peace had been agreed upon in principle as well as fact, even though all the formal treaties were not officially negotiated as of yet.
"'The Governor assembled approximately six thousand men at the Citadel of the town and ordered them to charge down from the great height to take the village of St. Etienne, the gateway to Bordeaux and Toulouse.
"'Lieutenant-Colonel Hay's Brigade of the Fifth Division had just come across the river to reinforce the troops, and he was serving as the general officer of the day. His troops were holding the village and bridge key to the Allies defenses. The French attacked en masse at three in the morning, and completely overran the piquets, such was the speed and force of their attack.
"Lieutenant-Colonel Hay was killed early on trying to defend in vain the church of said village. Only the 38th was able to rally and hold off the French, by defending vigorously a fortified house and the walled Jewish cemetery on the road to Bordeaux. The French cut the line of British troops in the village in two, and pressed on.
"'Our troops' rally was long in coming due to Lieutenant-Colonel Hay having been killed. Sir John Hope rode up as soon as he heard the news of Hay's death to try to assume command, but his charger was shot out from under him. His two loyal aides de camp William Herries and William Moore, a nephew of the great Sir John Moore, martyred at Corunna, were also wounded whilst trying to disengage Sir John from his mount. All three were injured, according to eyewitnesses, and were taken prisoner. Hope's boot was left trapped under the horse's carcass, and we fear he has sustained numerous other wounds.
"'Despite these shocks and devastating losses, every subordinate commander rose to the occasion despite having no central intelligence or orders from the high command. The King's German Legions and Portuguese troops flanked the village and cleared the French out of St. Etienne almost as rapidly as the French had taken the village only the hour before.
"'General Howard, together with Stopford's brigade and the Coldstream Guards, relieved the 38th in the cemetery, and chased the French back to the Citadel, up the very same steep hill which they had charged down. The French fled in disorder, stumbling in the dark, and over each other in their effort to scale the heights. They suffered terribly from Allied musketry and their own lack of a sensible rearguard action to cover their ignominious retreat. They sustained over one thousand casualties, the Allies approximately five hundred, with over two hundred captured.
"'Upon the death of Hay, Sir Charles Colville has been given command of the Fifth Division. He is determined to hold Bayonne and will shore up the defenses and be on the alert for as long as is required until the war is officially over.
"An obituary of Lieutenant-Colonel Hay follows, as does the list of casualties and missing men. We can only hope that they are being treated well until such time as the war will at last be truly over. We pray they will not have reprisals visited upon their heads for simply doing their duty as gallant Allied soldiers.'"
She rustled the paper, searching through the lists, and sighed again.
"Bad news?"
"Gareth Cavendish is listed here as missing."
"I'm so sorry."
"It's all right," she said with a small sniff. "I have faith that all will be well. It's just, well such an appalling shame. And I shall have to break the news to Pamela and Jonathan. They've become good friends through their letters."
"War is certainly a dreadful waste," he said, with a shake of his head. The toast in his mouth now tasted like sawdust, and he had to force himself to swallow. He hated talking about it. Even worse, he hated her being upset.
"Oh it's not just that which is making me sad," she admitted. "He'd only gone over recently, as part of a new fresh batch of reinforcements after Christmas. He was so eager to get a chance to do his part. He complained when he got put into the besieging forces. He had wanted something a bit more lively, he said. He said that sitting in front of a city gate was dull work. Well, he certainly got his excitement after all." She heaved another huge sigh.
Alexander cleared his throat and asked softly. "Are there, um, well-- Are there any other special friends you need to look up bedsides this Gareth?"
"Only Michael Avenel, Viscount Glyne, and Dr. Blake Sanderson. Blake is no doubt at the field hospital, safe and sound. As for Michael, he isn't at Bayonne. He's with the rest of the army on the march up through France."
"What regiment?"
"He was with the 45th, and more recently with the 92nd. He's such a superb soldier, he signed on at the start and has never missed a day from illness or leave. A great hero if ever there was one. You may have heard of him. They call him the Grim Reaper."
"Has he ever been wounded?"
She shook her head. "Never once, remarkably enough, though he's always in the thick of the fighting. He saw a lot of action at Orthes in February. That's the last we heard of him."
Alexander could hear her admiration clearly in her voice, and tried to tamp down the surge of jealousy which rose through him like a choking tide. "Perhaps you'd better look over the other papers you brought. I know you've been too busy to keep up with all the news."
"I can do better than that," Sarah said, before draining her cup of tea.
"Oh?"
"Yes, there is a pile of letters downstairs waiting for me. I can read them to you after we've bathed."
"Aren't they private?" he asked in surprise. The letters might be upsetting to her, as well as himself. Yet at the same time it was nice to feel included, as if he really did belong.
"Oh, no, not at all. Not in the house or amongst our Rakehell set. We're all friends."
"Well, thank you for including me in that group," he said sincerely.
"Actually, you're more than friends, you're family now, aren't you, Cousin," she said firmly. "So just be glad you don't have to help me with all the thank you notes for the wedding."
"Shouldn't your brother and his wife be tending to them?"
"They should, but I act as Jonathan's secretary because his handwriting is so poor. And he and Pamela are quite busy trying to get a grip on the reins at Ashton Manor now that he is officially the owner of the property. Pamela's father's will was overturned, and Jonathan, a distant cousin, turned out to be heir. The present Mrs. Ashton and her son refused to be beholdened to my brother, and have just closed up the house and moved north to live with her own people. I was helping them yesterday just before you arrived. Pamela asked Gareth before he departed to be steward to the property.
"Gareth will come home, I'm sure of it, and can take up all the duties then," she said as if it were a fact that could not possibly be refuted. As if she would not even admit possibility that the bright young man could be dead. "I can simply sign the thank you notes for both of them. Most of them won't know the difference. And it does well to keep busy."
"But Jonathan's wife should be his aide now, should she not? Now that he's wed, what are your plans for the future?" Alexander found himself asking.
Her face fell. She replied stiffly, "I haven't really thought too much about it, to be honest. I imagine things will stay pretty much the same, at least for the time being."
He gave her an almost pitying smile. "I'm sure you're too young and lively to be a spinster content to simply live in her brother's shadow for the rest of your life. And while this vicarage is a very fine home, it's not terribly large."
She blushed. In her frostiest tone she said, "There's no hurry. I have plenty of time to--"
"So you have no beau?" he blurted out, though inwardly he cursed himself for being so blunt.
"I know many nice--"
"No prospect of being wed in the near future?" he pressed, shocked at his own boldness but determined to know precisely where he stood.
"No, not at all," she said, sounding as
tounded by the very idea.
"I find that hard to believe, Sarah," he remarked, his tone now an almost husky purr.
"Pardon?" she gasped.
"I don't wish to sound impertinent, Miss Deveril, but are all the men you know fools? Even blind I can see what a wonderful woman you are. Can they not see your sterling character? Not to mention your beauty."
"Really, there's no need to flatter me," she said with a lift of her chin which was lost upon him, sightless as he was.
The Rakehell Regency Romance Collection Volume 2 Page 8