“What is that for?” She pointed at the little sack. “And where is Arthur?”
“He went to get my lunch,” Gerald said with a delighted smile. “I was told they’ve been slaving all morning in the kitchen making all of my favorite dishes. I’m to get a sampling of each.”
“All morning?” Julia shot to her feet again. “When did you wake up?”
He sighed over her anxiety that she wouldn’t have much time with him. “Julie, there is good news, if you will settle down long enough for me to tell you.”
He patted the bed again. That her father could make that gesture was a tribute to Arthur’s diligence. The man had begun manipulating Gerald’s limbs several times a day to simulate exercise after they discovered his muscles were atrophying due to his inactivity. Now when her father woke up, he could at least move his arms and even his legs a little, though he wouldn’t be strong enough to actually walk on them and was never awake long enough to work toward that effort. But Arthur had made sure that if that day did ever come, Gerald’s limbs wouldn’t be beyond hope due to his being bedridden for so many years.
She sat again, but the dip in the bed this time dislodged the sack from his pillow and it rolled down to land by her hip. She stared down in horror at the spots of blood on it.
“My God, what happened to you?” She poked the bag. It was cold and soaking wet.
“Ice,” he explained. “It hasn’t been warm enough yet to melt the winter supply in the cellar. The doctor was here yesterday and recommended cold for the swelling—and don’t fly off the handle again. I mentioned good news, didn’t I?”
He was beaming at her. She couldn’t get past the point that he was bleeding. But then it sank in. Yesterday? He’d been awake for an entire day?
Anxiously, but with hope sneaking in, she asked, “Tell me how you got hurt.”
“I woke up yesterday before Arthur did. I was sufficiently disoriented to think I had dreamed that horrible accident and that it was a normal morning like any other and time to get up. So I tried to.”
She winced. “You fell out of bed?”
“No, I got out of bed. I actually stood up, or at least I put all my weight on my left foot first, and I was half standing before that leg buckled. I fell to the left and hit my head on the corner of the night table. You’ll notice it’s not there? I hit the table hard enough to break it. Scared the hell out of Arthur with that fall, or so he said. I was out cold again.”
“But not for long?”
“Long enough for Arthur to send for Dr. Andrew. I woke up when he started poking around my head. He was fascinated that I’d hit my head in nearly the same place as my original injury.”
She gasped.
“It’s only a small cut, though it’s swollen now, which was why he recommended cold compresses. Arthur suggested we try ice, since we have some on hand. Thought it might work quicker.”
Gerald paused and slowly raised his left hand to feel the wounded area. The worst of the original injuries to his head had been high up on the left side. There had been others, but none as bad as that one.
“That’s quite a lump,” she said, appalled that she could see it through his hair.
“No, it’s smaller than it was, so the ice must be helping,” he reassured her.
“How bad does it hurt?”
“I barely feel it, so don’t fret. I’m not lying here in pain, dearest, I promise you I’m not.”
“Why was Dr. Andrew so fascinated?”
Gerald snorted. “He mentioned an amnesia patient who had regained his memory when he received another injury to his head, which is hardly comparable, and I told him so. But they know so little about the brain, he was hesitant to treat this new injury at all. In fact, he said the cut wasn’t wide enough to warrant more than a stitch or two, and he was going to wait until I lost consciousness again to close it. He might have been fascinated, but he wasn’t very optimistic. But when he came back later that afternoon, I was still awake. He tried again last night before he retired, but I was still awake.”
Gerald was grinning again widely. Julia started crying, couldn’t help it. Her father had never stayed cognizant for this long since the accident, mere hours was all she’d ever had with him, and once, only minutes, before he’d slipped back into that dead fog of no awareness.
Though tears were rolling down her cheeks as she gripped his hand, she was also grinning just as widely as he was. “My God, you’ve finally come home—for good.”
Chapter Twenty-four
JULIA BARELY LEFT HER father’s side that week. She wanted someone awake by his side at all times, and while she had a houseful of servants she could have assigned that task, she performed it herself, merely switching off with Arthur, so one of them was always with Gerald even while he was asleep. She ignored all visitors that week, even Georgina and Gabrielle, even Carol. She simply had the footman tell them the good news about her father and that she would see them soon.
She didn’t know how soon that would be though. She couldn’t help but fear that her father would suffer a relapse, that her days with him were still borrowed. Because of that fear, the old constraint of time, of wanting to squeeze in every minute with him while he was awake, was still present. Despite his rising every morning with that wonderful smile that so warmed her heart, her anxiety wouldn’t go away. Every morning she awoke feeling sick to her stomach until she ran back to his room to see with her own eyes that he was still with them, really with them.
Dr. Andrew was writing a paper to send off to his colleagues, documenting Gerald’s recovery, just as he’d done with the unusual effects of the first injury.
Gerald wanted to know about everything he’d missed, of course, and there’d been so many subjects they’d skipped before, when there’d been so little time to discuss them. Bringing him up-to-date on his business empire had taken nearly a full day! Julia had acquired seven more businesses, had only had to fire one of his managers, who wasn’t keeping up with the others.
They didn’t get around to talking about her until her father asked, “How old are you now, Julia? I’ve always been hesitant to ask. I was afraid, really, to know how much time was passing me by.”
“Oh, God, Papa, five years have passed since the accident. I’m twenty-one now.”
She was already crying, loud racking sobs this time. That so summed up the horror of his injury, that it had taken five years of his life away from him—and from her. But even worse, she had to tell him about her mother. She’d already mourned for her mother, but her father had never had a chance to. He’d never really been there with Julia for more than minutes or hours at a time, certainly not long enough for her to break the news to him that only he had survived the accident. He’d loved Helene, loved her enough to put up with all her idiosyncrasies and her social-climbing desire to elevate the Millers into the aristocracy.
She’d been dreading it, but she knew she couldn’t put it off any longer. “And Mama—”
“Hush, dearest,” he said in a choking voice. “I’ve already guessed.”
He held her close as she cried all the harder, but for him this time. And he cried, too. She tried to tell him why she’d kept it from him, but he told her she didn’t need to explain, he understood.
All those tears brought her such relief. When she finally got her emotions under control, she realized the terrible weight of uncertainty had been washed away as well.
She told him everything, held nothing back. There was so much else to talk about, it was like a dam bursting for her. Because Richard had been on her mind so much recently, she even mentioned him later that evening, though briefly. At least she tried to keep it brief.
“I honestly didn’t think he’d ever come back,” Gerald admitted.
“He hasn’t really. No one else knows he’s back, except his brother, who he came to visit. Which is why I’m going to go forward with having him declared dead.”
Gerald shook his head. “You can’t do that, dearest. It isn’t right. It was a soluti
on when you actually thought he was dead, with so much time having passed. But now that you’ve seen him, you know that isn’t the case. And you two still don’t want the marriage? You’re certain?”
“Absolutely. Nothing has changed. We still can’t stand each other.” She didn’t mention that Richard was in love with someone else, which was beginning to annoy her when she thought about it.
Gerald snorted. “That pompous arse Milton. He was so sure that you children would outgrow that animosity, he even managed to convince me of it.”
“Is that why you didn’t offer him more to sever the ties between our families?”
“But I did, triple your dowry. It was obvious by then that he expected a hell of a lot more from the marriage. So I stopped trying to reason with him. You were still a child. There was also still the possibility that you might look favorably on Richard one day. So I postponed making decisions of any sort until you were of a marriageable age. And now that you are, get on with your life, dearest. Find that perfect someone who’s out there waiting for you—which I failed miserably to do for you.”
She couldn’t believe he was suggesting that. Eyes wide, she said, “But we can’t go back on your word.”
“It’s my decision. You aren’t to worry about it.”
She realized he was still viewing her as a child. That was understandable, but she wasn’t any longer a child who could accept Father’s assurances and let it go at that. They had to discuss this.
“What is the worst that can happen?” she asked, then answered her own question. “The earl could take it to legal jurisdiction and could be awarded recompense.”
“Possibly, but it would be a pittance. It’s not as if the groom is standing at the altar willing to fulfill the Allens’ part of that contract.”
“But the backlash for breaking your word—”
“You let me worry about that. You’ve been held fast long enough to this deplorable situation because of my actions. If there’s any backlash because of it, I’ll consider it justified for my own foolishness. And it will all be forgotten soon enough.”
Julia was afraid it wouldn’t be as easy as her father made it sound. They would be thwarting a lord, after all, and they didn’t have that same social distinction themselves. The earl was bound to make trouble, creating a scandal at the very least, even impugning their integrity for not honoring the contract, the very things that had stayed her own hand in the matter. Gerald wasn’t sufficiently recovered yet to deal with that sort of whiplash.
But Julia didn’t mention that to her father. She nodded, allowing him to think she agreed with him. But she couldn’t agree, not yet, not without at least seeing the earl and trying one last time to make him see reason so they could end this betrothal amicably.
Chapter Twenty-five
HE KEPT HER WAITING! Half a bloody day!
Julia hadn’t seen Milton Allen, the Earl of Manford, in five years, not since her parents’ accident, which had devastated her life. The earl had come to her mother’s funeral and offered his trite condolences, but his real reason for coming to town had been to start proceedings to gain guardianship of her. Her family’s solicitors had told her how angry he’d been when he’d failed to do so. It would have given him what he’d wanted all along, complete control over everything the Millers owned.
It had been even longer since she’d been inside Willow Woods. The house she’d been so impressed with as a child looked quite different through an adult’s eyes. Had it been in this shabby state back then? Surely not. But the house’s poor condition actually added to her confidence that she could finally break the tie to the Allens. The earl had refused money in the past to end it, but if his finances were in such dire straits he couldn’t even maintain his home properly, he might accept that solution now.
Julia had left her maid at the hostelry nearby. She’d been lucky to get a room there after the innkeeper accused her of being responsible for damaging his property the previous week. She didn’t know what he was talking about, but paying him triple the price for the room had shut him up. She hadn’t intended to sleep there anyway when she already had a room at the much nicer inn where she’d stayed last night. But like her mother, she’d wanted a little privacy where she could freshen up before her audience with the earl.
She’d traveled by coach this time, so she’d been able to bring her maid instead of having to ask Raymond to escort her again. But traveling by coach was much slower than simply riding, and now she would be lucky to leave Willow Woods before nightfall, since the earl hadn’t deigned to see her yet, which could turn this trip into four days instead of the three she had figured on.
She hadn’t told her father where she was going, knowing he would have tried to talk her out of it and would probably have succeeded. She’d told him instead that she needed to make a brief business trip to the North Country. She didn’t like lying to him, but she didn’t want him to worry over her absence, and she would explain when she got back, hopefully with good news. If the earl ever made an appearance.
Charles wasn’t even at home to keep her company. The butler had told her he hadn’t returned yet from taking his son to visit the boy’s other grandfather. So the time dragged that afternoon. And her annoyance mounted.
It was actually turning to dusk when the footman arrived to lead her to Milton’s study. She didn’t doubt for a moment that he’d deliberately left her to stew all afternoon. So while she had intended to be polite and deferential, now she was just angry and eager to get out of there.
She didn’t even wait for the servant to close the door behind her before she got right to the point. “I’ve come to tell you two things, Lord Allen. My—”
“Where are your manners, girl?” he cut in tersely. “Sit down.”
Julia found herself obeying, sitting in the chair that he pointed to in front of his desk. She did so unthinkingly because of that autocratic tone of his that brooked no argument. He was thinner than she remembered, his hair a duller brown. And having seen Richard recently, she realized father and son bore little resemblance to each other. But she recalled Charles hadn’t taken after his father, either. Both sons must pull to their mother’s side of the family.
“Now,” he added, just to display some of the politeness she’d been lacking, “how is your father?”
Suddenly he was smirking. Because he’d just controlled her without even half trying? She bristled and shot back to her feet. “Recovered.”
He sat abruptly forward. “I beg your pardon?”
“My father has recovered. His mind is completely functional again and he grows a little stronger each day.”
Apparently, like everyone else, including Gerald’s doctor, Milton hadn’t expected to ever hear that. His incredulity was revealed for a brief moment before he turned stiff. “How—nice,” he said drily.
He didn’t care. He was such a despicable man. Like father, like son. In fact, Julia suddenly realized that Milton had probably been delighted by Gerald’s disability. If Richard had been available to marry her at any time during the last three years, since she had come of age, it would have given the Allens control of everything without having to wait for Gerald’s death.
“I also came to tell you that I’ve seen Richard and nothing has changed between us. We still hate each other and have mutually agreed to never marry.”
Milton narrowed his eyes on her. “Do you really think what either of you wants matters? But Richard will have a change of heart.”
“He won’t.”
“Oh, he will. In about seven months. So you have that long to prepare for your wedding.”
Julia felt herself approaching a screeching level. How could he say something like that and sound so confident about it, when he hadn’t even seen Richard? So she counted to five, ten, should have counted to a much higher number, but the earl was staring at her with his icy blue eyes, adding nervousness to her other frazzled emotions.
She burst out, “What arbitrary number is that? You actu
ally think you can find him in seven months?”
“I know exactly where he is.”
“Where?”
“Does it matter? All that matters to you is that he will soon be available to remove the taint of old maid from you. You should be rejoicing.”
She was incredulous now. Why did the nobility put so much stock into a young woman’s getting married right out of the schoolroom? But he hadn’t given her an answer, probably because he didn’t know where Richard was, which meant he was just bluffing. He had to be.
She gritted her teeth. “If that mattered to me, which it doesn’t, it doesn’t remove the fact—”
“Are you arguing with me?” he demanded.
“No, of course—”
She stopped abruptly, realizing he was frightening her. With his tone of voice? Good God, how had Richard managed to live under this man’s roof all the years of his youth and manage to defy him to the point of earning beatings for it? He’d mentioned at least one of those beatings, even tried to blame her for it. She didn’t doubt now that there had been many beatings. She realized if the earl had gained guardianship of her, she would probably have run away just as Richard did—no, she wouldn’t. That guardianship would have given him complete authority over Gerald’s care, too, and there was no way in heaven or hell she’d have left her father to the earl’s questionable mercy.
The very thought stiffened her spine and had her amend, “Yes, I am arguing with you. And I understand why you would lie to prolong this intolerable situation—”
“How dare you!” he shouted, his cheeks florid with anger.
She flinched. She was suddenly glad his desk was between them. What had possessed her to utter that gravest of insults to a lord of the realm, even if it was true? If she were a man, he’d be demanding a duel.
“I apologize,” she said quickly. “That was a bit harsh, but—”
“You’re as disrespectful as Richard is. How alike you two are.”
She didn’t particularly like being compared to Richard, but at least her apology seemed to have mollified the earl because he’d only sneered at that last remark. Now might be a good time to leave, before she let her anger rule her tongue again. She had been prepared to offer him money one last time if he couldn’t be reasoned with, since the solicitors hadn’t yet been summoned to transfer control of the family businesses and finances back to her father, but the man simply didn’t deserve a penny for holding on to the contract much, much longer than he should have.
That Perfect Someone Page 15