“You want Nick here because this is the first real illness in your household since your wife died. That’s understandable, Ethan.”
He didn’t argue with her, but she didn’t have the whole truth, either. No one did now, save Ethan, and he should probably leave it that way. Probably, but what if Joshua didn’t recover?
He turned his thoughts from that hopeless outcome and extracted a promise from Alice to meet him in the garden for a walk before the light faded. She’d been in the sick room all day, and Ethan knew inactivity wasn’t in her nature.
He left the nursery, able to do so only because Alice was with him in a way he could not have anticipated. He’d desired her, despite her severe buns, thick glasses, and governessy primness, because some part of him must have sensed this other beauty hidden as effectively as Alice’s physical attractiveness.
Where she committed, Alice Portman stuck to her guns. She would no more leave Joshua’s care in the hands of the maids than she would cast Ethan aside because he was gruff, lacked polish with the fairer sex, and hogged pillows.
She belongs to us, Ethan assured himself as he searched out Mrs. Buxton and ordered two baths and a hot meal. Alice did not yet know it, but she belonged not just to Ethan but to his boys as well.
And if there were a merciful God, they would find a way to keep her.
He was prowling in the library for books—Joshua and Jeremiah loved their stories—when his eyes strayed across the notes Heathgate left him regarding Hart Collins. They were sitting in plain sight, which was no doubt foolish, so Ethan folded them up and stuffed them into his waistcoat pocket. Choosing a storybook proved challenging, for Ethan had no idea which the boys had read, so he stacked a half dozen under his arm and headed back to the third floor.
When he gained the nursery, Jeremiah was sitting on his tidily made bed, watching Joshua sleep.
“He’s going to die, isn’t he?” Jeremiah’s voice was steady, but when he drew in a breath, Ethan heard the worry filling him up. Ethan pulled up a rocking chair and lifted his firstborn onto his lap.
“From this?” Ethan glanced at Joshua too, and the hectic pink spots on his cheeks. “Anything is possible, but I don’t think so.”
“Mama had fevers. She died.”
“Right from the start of her illness, your mother had terrible trouble with her bowels, and Joshua hasn’t had any. He has, however, been sleeping like an old dog, which makes me think his illness is different.”
“I wanted the ponies to know what was going on. They would worry.”
“Ponies are like that.” Ethan hugged his son gently. “Governesses too, I think.”
Jeremiah snuggled closer to his father. “Miss Alice doesn’t act worried. You can tell if you look at her eyes, though. She doesn’t like Joshua being sick.”
“None of us do. If I don’t want her to get sick, I’d best see Miss Alice gets some fresh air.”
“I’ll stay with Joshua.” Jeremiah scrambled out of his father’s lap. “I’ll call Davey if Joshua wakes up. Don’t worry, Papa. I’ll look after him.”
Ethan left on Jeremiah’s childish assurance—there would be no moving the boy, in any case—and reasoning the sooner a papa left, the sooner he could return. He found Alice in her room, a shawl around her shoulders.
“It gets dark so much earlier,” she said, “and I can smell autumn in the air.”
“September has always felt melancholy to me,” Ethan said, tucking her hand over his arm. “Summer is over, the land is preparing to go dormant for winter, and darkness presses in.”
Then too, September was when the public schools began their academic year.
“My father used to hate it, because the boys went back to school in the fall,” Alice said as they made their way to the terrace. “I hated to see them go. The house always felt so much more alive with them around, but I liked the quiet, too.”
“So you could read your books,” Ethan guessed as they emerged onto the back terrace. “It is cool out, isn’t it?”
“Cool and beautiful. Look at the moonrise.”
A big fat yellow moon was drifting up through the trees, spreading its silvery light over the asters and chrysanthemums. “I’m glad we’re out here to see this.”
“You’re warm enough?”
“I’m fine.” Alice smiled, but even by moonlight, Ethan could see she was tired. He settled an arm around her shoulders as they walked and felt her arm steal around his waist. They eventually found the bench under the oak and watched as the moon rose over the gardens. Conversation wasn’t necessary, just the peaceful moonrise and Alice’s company.
As close as they’d been in her bed the previous night, Ethan felt just as close to her now.
“Shall we return to the house?” Ethan asked. “I’ve ordered you a bath too, but trays in the library for us first.”
“Food sounds good. Worrying is hungry work, and soon enough all the vegetables will be in the cold cellar.” They made the distance in companionable silence. Ethan held the door for Alice then touched her arm.
“Let me have your shawl.” He drew it from her shoulders and folded it before handing it back to her, and the expression on Alice’s face gave him pause.
A small thing, to fold a lady’s shawl for her. Some might say presumptuous; others might say husbandly. All that mattered was what Alice would say. “What?”
“Nothing.” Alice tucked the shawl over her arm. “To the library?”
“For sustenance, though I want to go bounding up those stairs and stare Joshua back to health.”
“Come eat, Mr. Grey, or the food won’t be hot.”
He was storing up a treasure house of her various Mr. Greys: stern, affectionate, reassuring, passionate…
Ethan let her draw him into the library, where a tea cart was crowded with dishes. The ambrosial scents of roasted beef and fresh bread wafted up from steaming trays. He stared at his plate when they took places side by side on the couch. “I can’t eat all of this.”
“You can.” Alice flipped her serviette onto her lap. “You skipped lunch and tea, and you are a substantial fellow who needs his sustenance. If you fall over in a swoon, I won’t be able to catch you. Salt?”
“Please.” Ethan unfolded his napkin and began cutting his roast of beef. “Good Lord, this smells delicious. Will you marry me?”
“Of course not.” Alice smiled at her plate. “You’re out of your head with hunger, fatigue, and worry. I could use that salt when you’re done with it.”
Ethan stuffed a bite of meat into his mouth, utterly flummoxed at the question that had come from his lips. Where on earth—where in heaven or on earth—had those words come from? He’d meant them, of course, but thank God Alice had taken them as teasing.
They consumed good beef, green beans, fresh bread, pears, and cheese, limiting their discussion to the meal.
“More salt?”
“Excellent roast.”
“This cheese goes well with the fruit.”
One remark after another, each reassuring Ethan that his proposal had indeed been taken in jest. No harm done. To Alice, at least. He chewed mechanically, wondering if it was better to be rejected as only proposing in jest, or to be rejected because he’d meant each word with his whole heart.
When they finished their meal, Ethan chased Alice off to soak in a hot bath. She went without protest, perhaps sensing Ethan wanted some time with his sons. When she rejoined Ethan in the nursery, Jeremiah slept, and Joshua dozed in Ethan’s arms.
“I wanted to hate him when he was born,” Ethan said. Alice settled near him on the end of Joshua’s bed as he spoke. “He was the ultimate symbol of my failure as a husband, as a man. And yet…” Ethan gazed down at his son. “One day, he smiled at me and grabbed for my nose. Jeremiah wanted to hold him, and the nursery maids wouldn’t countenance such a thing. I held Jeremiah with one arm and the baby with the other, and I was… lost.”
“You’re not lost now. Not you, not Joshua, not Jeremiah. Y
ou’ve found each other.”
“We have. I don’t intend to lose either one of my sons.”
Alice gave a fierce little nod. “That’s the spirit.”
“But I nearly did, Alice.” Ethan started rocking slowly. “I convinced myself my children were red-faced, squalling, malodorous, ceaselessly needy little beasts. How could I have been so wrong?”
“You weren’t wrong. You’ve described the average baby, though you left out the part about how irresistibly lovable they are.”
“Irresistibly,” Ethan agreed, kissing Joshua’s forehead. “He’s still hot.”
Alice reached out and laid the back of her hand on Joshua’s forehead.
“No hotter than he was this morning. I think he’ll be fine, Ethan, though I’ve never seen this illness in another child.”
“Nor have I, and my siblings were forever coming down with this or that ailment. We lost two babies, further down the line from Nick and me.”
“A large family seldom sees all the children survive to adulthood. My mother was fortunate all four of us did.”
Ethan cuddled his son a little closer. “One marvels such a slight person should create so much noise for the sheer hell of it.”
“He does it in part to keep Jeremiah from growing up too fast.”
“That one.” Ethan’s gaze traveled to where his older son slept on his side. “He reminds me of myself now, while Joshua reminds me of myself as a child.”
“Quite a contrast. It’s hard to imagine you as devil-may-care as Joshua, but time changes us.”
“Some of us. You’re exhausted, Alice. Why don’t you lie down across the hall, and I’ll rouse you if Joshua should worsen?”
Alice rose tiredly. “I’m going to set a good example for you. I’m going to get some rest because I most assuredly do need it.” She leaned down to brush a finger down Joshua’s cheek then bent to kiss the top of Ethan’s head. “Wake me when you need a break, Ethan, and no heroics. Jeremiah will explode with worry if you fall ill.”
Ethan let her go, though just the one little whiff of her lemony scent brought peace to his soul. Alice turned to leave, pausing to pull the covers up over Jeremiah and tuck them in around him more snugly.
I love her. For those little maternal gestures and how naturally they come to her with these children, I love her.
Alice opened the door then stepped back abruptly. “Nicholas?”
* * *
One didn’t mistake Nick Haddonfield’s presence, and there he was in the corridor, looking large, windblown, and worried. Alice stepped back to let him into the nursery.
“Ethan sent a pigeon, and the roads were dry, and I don’t suppose…” Nick peered past Alice to where Ethan cradled Joshua in the rocking chair. “Is Joshua all right?”
“Nicholas.” Ethan rose, Joshua sleeping in his arms, and surveyed his brother. “You traveled all this way because my son is ill?”
“He’s going to recover, isn’t he?” Nick’s gaze traveled from his brother to his nephew. “He looks fevered.”
Alice tried to fathom the currents swirling between the two brothers, because Nick wasn’t just worried about the boy.
“Joshua started a fever last night. I can’t believe you came.”
“I’ll leave in the morning,” Nick said. “I know I’m not invited, but I was worried, and I also know what a sick child can mean to a parent’s peace of mind…”
Ethan shifted his son and extended a hand to his brother. “I am glad you’re here. I am really, honestly glad you’re here.” The words sounded heartfelt. As Alice watched, Nick’s features smoothed.
He’d been uncertain of his reception. The Earl of Bellefonte had been prepared to be politely rebuffed by his own brother—or perhaps, not so politely.
“He’s sleeping very soundly,” Nick observed. “Has he been bled?”
“I’ll not have it,” Ethan replied, laying Joshua in his bed and drawing up the covers. “He’s weak as it is, and bleeding never did anybody I know of any good.”
“I see.” Nick looked uncomfortable again.
“You don’t agree?” And now Ethan sounded wary too. Jeremiah stirred in his sleep, while Alice didn’t want to leave Ethan and Nick alone.
“I brought a physician with me, Ethan, and please hear me out.”
Ethan straightened the covers around Joshua and brushed a hand over the child’s forehead. “I’m listening.”
“Fairly doesn’t like bleeding either,” Nick said, “and he’s a member of the Royal College, but he also apprenticed to a ship’s doctor. He’s not just an old windbag spouting Latin and carrying around a jar of leeches.”
“I should hope not. Is this the fellow I met at Papa’s funeral?” Still, Ethan regarded his ailing child.
“You did, but my manners are remiss. Alice, a pleasure to see you, though you look exhausted.”
“She is,” Ethan rejoined, holding out a hand to Alice. She crossed the room at this gesture of invitation then nearly stumbled when Ethan captured her hand and drew her against his side. “I’ve kept her up to this ungodly hour because she is in charge of Joshua’s care, and my gratitude to our Alice is without limit.”
Our Alice. She hoped it meant his, Joshua’s, and Jeremiah’s, and maybe even a little bit Nicholas’s too.
Nick grinned at her. “Didn’t take you long to have him eating out of your hand. Let me fetch Viscount Fairly. He’ll want to talk to Alice before ordering her off to bed.”
Nick was back in a moment, bringing with him a tall blond man whose looks Alice would describe as beautiful but unsettling. In the dim light, it took her several minutes to discern that his eyes were two different colors, one blue and one green. Those eyes bore a light of kindness, though, and she was profoundly grateful to Nick for bringing some real medical expertise to the situation.
“Your patient,” Alice began, “is five going on six and answers to Joshua Nicholas Grey. He is as rambunctious as the day is long, and generally quite, quite sturdy. About a week ago, we noticed his energy flagging, and he began taking afternoon naps and coming down late for breakfast. Last night, an hour or so before dawn, his brother, Jeremiah, found him fevered.”
“Other symptoms?” the physician asked.
“Body aches, particularly in his neck, tummy, and upper arms, and this great fatigue. His throat is sore, but it doesn’t seem severely painful. His appetite is off, though his bowels do not pain him. He drinks all the vile potions we force on him then goes back to sleep. He’s just… ill.”
“I don’t want to talk out of turn,” Fairly said, “but given the symptoms you’ve listed, I can bet it isn’t typhoid, malaria, or cholera, neither does it smack of lung fever. We might have some version of influenza here, but I’d like to examine the child, if you don’t mind waking him.”
“I’m up.” Joshua struggled to sit up in his bed. “Is that Uncle Nick?”
“I’m up, too,” Jeremiah chorused. “Joshua, do you have to pee?”
“In private,” Joshua intoned truculently, glancing at the four adults in his bedroom.
“You can use my room,” Alice said. “I’ll have some food and drink put together for our guests.” She slipped from the room, hoping that between the physician and the little boys, neither Ethan nor Nick would do or say anything untoward.
* * *
Despite Joshua’s illness, despite the lateness of the hour and the relative crowd in the children’s room, Ethan watched Alice go.
Nick’s smile as Ethan’s gaze collided with his was sweet and knowing.
Well, what of it?
When the boys returned, Nick excused himself as well, muttering something about seeing how Alice fared in the kitchen.
Joshua peered at his father before climbing back into bed. “Are you leaving, Papa?”
“Good heavens,” the physician said, “he can’t leave, because then we’d have no one to make the introductions, and wouldn’t that be awkward?”
Joshua smiled tentatively a
t that sally, while Jeremiah’s expression was unconvinced.
“Viscount Fairly,” Ethan began, “may I make known to you my sons, Master Jeremiah Nicholas Grey, and your patient, Master Joshua Nicholas Grey. Boys, his lordship is a physician who was good enough to come here with Uncle Nick.”
Jeremiah took his father’s hand and aimed a worried look upward. “You won’t let him bleed Joshua?”
“I will not,” Ethan said. “No matter how Joshua begs and pleads and longs for a truly impressive scar. Now back into bed, both of you.”
“Yes, Papa.” Joshua’s voice conveyed fatigue, even in two little words.
The physician sat on the child’s bed. “Joshua, I must have your assistance if we’re to find an answer to what’s plaguing you. Will you give me your hand?”
Joshua complied and was taught how to feel a pulse by holding two middle fingers against Lord Fairly’s wrist. They compared pulses and tongues and heartbeats and breathing sounds, aches, and pains until Joshua was yawning again. All the while, Fairly had plied the child with questions, probed gently for soreness and swelling, and conducted a far more thorough examination than the interrogation-and-prescribing Ethan had usually seen pass for medical science.
“You’re tired now?” Fairly asked Joshua.
“Beat. I can’t stay up at all.”
“Then go back to sleep. You’ve been very patient with me, but I think you’re wise to be sleeping so much, Joshua.”
Joshua flopped down onto his bed. “I’m just tired.”
“You’re smart,” Fairly countered, pulling the covers up over the boy. “The more you sleep, the sooner you’ll heal, so sleep to your heart’s content.”
“G’night, Papa.” Joshua cracked his jaw and closed his eyes. “G’night, Doctor.”
“Good night, Son.” Ethan pressed a kiss to Joshua’s brow. “Sweet dreams. And you”—Ethan turned to spear Jeremiah with a look—“your brother is going to be fine, but he needs rest, so no keeping him up with your usual ruckus.”
“I don’t make a ruckus,” Jeremiah protested, but he was smiling bashfully. “Unless Joshua makes one with me.”
“Like the time you climbed down the tree in the middle of the night,” Ethan reminded him, “and tried to take your ponies for a romp when there was no moon at all. Dream of that, why don’t you?”
Ethan: Lord of Scandals ll-3 Page 26