Chapter Thirteen
Amanda’s letter from Thomas arrived early the following Tuesday morning while she was still in her bedchamber surveying the mound of boxes that were a result of Rebecca’s and her shopping trip the previous day. They had found almost everything they needed for their first forays into society and Amanda was already experiencing less apprehension about the immediate future and her coming interactions with Lady Cordelia. At least, she decided while pulling an especially attractive bonnet from its box, she would not be disgraced by her appearance.
A swift knock on the door preceded Rebecca’s unusually hasty entrance. She clutched a grubby paper in her hand and her face was flushed as though she had run up the stairs. “A groom from Willow Place just arrived with this,” she said, puffing as she thrust the paper toward Amanda. “He said it’s an emergency.”
Amanda’s hand was already trembling as she reached for the missive sealed with an untidy blob of red wax. She ripped it open, then skimmed the message. “It’s from Thomas,” she said, her voice unsteady. “He says I should come home immediately. David is extremely ill.”
Rebecca’s face paled. “You will wish to leave as soon as possible. I shall send instructions to have the coach—”
“No,” Amanda interrupted. “The coach is too slow. Send one of the footmen for Lord Blackbourne. He will know the fastest means for me to return to Willow Place.”
Rebecca opened her mouth as though to object but after looking into Amanda’s face, she nodded. “I’ll write Lord Blackbourne a note myself. Ring for your maid and begin dressing. You’ll want to wear something serviceable.”
Amanda was too frantic to wait for her maid. What could be wrong with David? He had never been sick a day in his life except for an occasional cold. Now he was ill, perhaps desperately so, and she was not there to care for him and to comfort him. Was he in pain? Was he frightened? Was he crying for her?
Fighting back the panic that would have slowed her progress, Amanda slipped into the first thing she pulled from the wardrobe—a soft yellow morning gown with short, puffed sleeves and a rounded neckline. Janie rushed in to help her with the fastenings on the gown, but when the maid began looking for a matching bonnet, Amanda impatiently grabbed the new one she had pulled from its box just before Thomas’ message arrived. It was a dark blue Kutusoff that she had purchased to go with the new carriage dress Mrs. Baker was making for her.
Having crammed the bonnet on her head, Amanda scooped up her reticule and would have run from the chamber had Janie not suggested she would need some sort of wrap. Recalling Rebecca’s edict that she should wear something serviceable, Amanda dashed back to the wardrobe and pulled out her oldest cloak—a maroon serge that was five years old.
Two minutes later, she was standing in the front doorway staring into the street.
“Come inside, Amanda,” Rebecca said. “We should step into the breakfast parlor where you can have a cup of tea and a piece of toast while awaiting Lord Blackbourne. You will do David no good by making yourself ill.”
Amanda smiled wanly. “I’m not hungry but I do need to step upstairs and search for a puzzle I bought for David a few days ago. I hope he will be able to enjoy it.” She started toward the stairs, then turned to address her companion. “You are always such a comfort to me, Becky. You will come with me to Willow Place, will you not?”
“That depends, my dear, upon what conveyance Lord Blackbourne brings to transport you. However, if there is not room for me in his carriage, I shall order your coach made ready and follow you as soon as may be. You know you can depend on me attending you at the earliest possible moment.”
Amanda nodded. “I know, Becky. I realize that I can always count on you.”
But it was Blackbourne’s presence she most longed for at that particular moment in time.
* * * * *
Blackbourne had been sitting at his breakfast table when Rebecca’s note arrived. He had allowed his sirloin to grow cold while trying to concoct an excuse to see Amanda that day. He’d managed to restrain himself during the previous five days, having called at her town house only once. Unfortunately, he hadn’t seen her even then. On that particular afternoon, according to her butler, the countess and Miss Thornton were away from home on a shopping expedition.
He decided he would try again today, using as an excuse his need to know if Amanda would be ready to pay calls with his aunt Cordelia the following week. Having decided on a logical-sounding reason for visiting Amanda, he realized his appetite had returned. He’d just rung for a pot of fresh coffee when Dulaney stepped into the chamber.
“A note for you, my lord,” the butler said. “The footman who delivered it claims it’s urgent.”
Blackbourne took the unsealed note from Dulaney and opened it.
Although Rebecca Thornton had no doubt written in haste, she had not allowed her penmanship to suffer. Her cryptic message was quite legible. Thomas wrote to say David is very ill. Amanda needs you to transport her to Willow Place.
Blackbourne noted that Miss Thornton had wasted no time in urging him to hurry. Obviously, she was not inclined toward histrionics and for the first time he found himself thankful that she was with Amanda.
Jumping to his feet, he turned to Dulaney. “Send word to the stables to have my grays hitched to the curricle. I expect it to be waiting for me at the front door in ten minutes.”
Thirty minutes later Blackbourne pulled his horses up in front of Amanda’s house. He’d driven as if the devil himself were at his heels. David’s pony had been delivered four days ago. Now today Miss Thornton had sent word that David was ill. What if she had misunderstood? What if David had tried to ride the pony and been thrown or trampled?
Blackbourne jumped from his perch, tossed the reins to his groom and dashed up the steps. Miss Thornton waited for him in the doorway and thrust a piece of paper toward him. “You will want to read Thomas’ note for yourself,” she said.
“Thank you,” he murmured as he opened the folded sheet. He read it in seconds. “I wish Thomas had been more specific about what is wrong.”
“As do I, my lord, but I perceive that he was in a hurry. I’m delighted you arrived so swiftly. Amanda is near panicked, as you can imagine. Ah, I believe I hear her coming now.”
Footfalls on the stairs sounded just before Amanda came running into the entrance hall carrying a small package. Flashes of a soft yellow gown showed beneath her maroon cloak, which certainly did not match her dark blue bonnet, but Blackbourne wasted no time contemplating the unlikely color combination. He was much too enthralled with the expression in her eyes. She regarded him with joy, relief and trust, and Blackbourne felt his heart leap in response. An emotion, unfamiliar but exuberant, brought a smile to his face and a feeling of peace to his soul. No one had ever looked at him in quite that way before and he suddenly felt strong enough to move the earth itself should Amanda request it of him.
“Thank God, you’re here.” Amanda ran to his side and placed a hand on his arm. “I knew I could depend on you. Can you take me to Willow Place?”
“Of course. My curricle is outside and the horses are fresh. Are you ready?”
“Yes.” Amanda turned to thrust the package into Miss Thornton’s hands. “We are to travel in Lord Blackbourne’s curricle, Becky. Follow as soon as you can in the coach. I’ll depend on you to bring David’s puzzle.”
“Certainly, my dear.” Rebecca’s gaze shifted to Blackbourne. “Does your groom ride up behind you, my lord?”
Blackbourne reflected that all of his previous impressions of Miss Thornton had been correct. She was, and always would be, a dragon lady with the guarding of Amanda’s reputation foremost on her mind. What surprised him was that he now found himself, unaccountably, appreciating that particular characteristic.
“My groom is minding the horses as we speak,” he told her with what he hoped was a reassuring smile. “He will accompany us every inch of the way.”
Rebecca nodded solemnly. S
he did not, Blackbourne noted, deign to return his smile but there was a softening about her lips that he found encouraging.
“Please, my lord, let us go.”
Suddenly aware that Amanda was frantically tugging on his arm, Blackbourne looked into her face and felt his head go light. Even with her glorious hair crushed beneath her crooked bonnet, she was the most beautiful creature he’d ever seen. She was also depending on him to help her and he had no intention of failing her.
“Come,” he said simply, then hurried her outside and helped her into the curricle.
They did not speak for the first five miles or so. Blackbourne was too busy guiding his frisky team through the London traffic to try to converse, while Amanda appeared engrossed in twisting the ribbons of her reticule into tight knots and then watching them unwind, obviously a habit of hers when she was unnerved.
As soon as traffic thinned to the point that Blackbourne was no longer forced to devote all of his attention to weaving around slower moving carts and carriages, he glanced at Amanda’s white face and asked, “Do you know what Thomas could have meant when he wrote that David is very ill?”
“I have no idea,” Amanda replied. “I would never have dreamed when I left him that he would become ill.”
“Don’t start blaming yourself,” Blackbourne said in a firm tone. “His illness was not caused by your being away from home.”
“I know,” Amanda said on a sigh. “Still, I cannot but feel somewhat guilty. He is all alone, except for Thomas and the servants.”
“Speaking of servants, surely someone in the household would have summoned a physician when David became sick.”
“Yes, of course,” Amanda agreed. “Mrs. Grant—she’s the housekeeper—would have sent for the doctor immediately. And he’s a very good man. I called him in last year to treat two of the housemaids who had come down with putrid fevers.”
“Then you may well arrive at Willow Place to find that David is already on the road to recovery,” Blackbourne said in an encouraging tone. “In the meantime, try not to imagine the worst.”
“Are my thoughts that obvious?”
Blackbourne glanced at her from the corner of his eye. “Let me just say that your face is so pale, any self-respecting ghost who should happen to see you would turn green with envy.”
“A green ghost? Now there’s a tale David would enjoy hearing. If you will not accuse me of stealing your idea, I shall make up a story for him about a jealous ghost who turns green with envy when he realizes he is not as white as his friends.”
Delighted that he had succeeded in diverting Amanda’s thoughts, Blackbourne chuckled. “A ghost tale with a moral, I perceive. But you must hide the moral very carefully behind a great deal of action if you wish to appeal to a little boy. Your ghost must be more adventurous and more courageous than he is jealous. What shall you name him?”
“I don’t know,” Amanda admitted with a slight grimace. “What would you consider a good, ghostly name?”
Blackbourne gnawed on his lip for a moment, his brow furrowed in thought. “How about Ganymedes?” he asked at last.
Amanda regarded him with a slight frown. “Why Ganymedes?”
“Because I think David would like the way that particular name rolls off the tongue, and—if you are clever—you can incorporate some Greek mythology into your ghost story.”
“True,” Amanda agreed after a moment of thought. “But since Ganymedes was made immortal by the gods, he could never be a legitimate ghost, because the essence of ghosthood implies that one has first died.”
Blackbourne sucked air into his lungs in a silent gasp of astonishment. He had already discovered that Amanda was more widely educated than most women of his acquaintance, but even so he had not expected her education to be quite so well rounded. Nor had he expected her to be so intelligent. The combination, he admitted to himself, was astounding.
“So much for Ganymedes,” he forced himself to say lightly. “Inconsiderate of the lad to get himself made immortal, but there you have it. It’s your turn to come up with a name for our green ghost.”
“That’s it,” Amanda exclaimed.
“What?”
“The Green Ghost! While not literary, the name has the advantage of being simple and to the point, a feature David will very much appreciate at his age.”
Blackbourne grinned. “The Green Ghost it is, then,” he said amiably. “Now, since I thought of the name, you must concoct the first adventure.”
“But you did not think of the name,” Amanda objected. “You had not even considered Green Ghost as a name.”
“Ah, but the words issued from my mouth.” Blackbourne flashed her a teasing smile. “Now you wish to claim all the credit. Unfair!”
Amanda also smiled. “You twist logic, sir,” she said with feigned indignation. “But I shall not demean myself by arguing the point further. Instead, I shall immediately set about devising an adventure for G.G. I think we had better call him by his initials, do you not agree? To be forever saying Green Ghost might become unwieldy.”
“Indubitably,” Blackbourne agreed, his lips twitching. “Where does your adventure begin?”
Well aware that Blackbourne was attempting to keep her mind occupied, Amanda nevertheless threw herself into the task of creating exploits for her green ghost while silently praying that David would be well enough to appreciate her efforts. If he were not… But she would not think about that. She would only think of the green ghost. She could not bear to think of anything else at the moment.
And so she continued spinning tales about the adventures of an imaginary ghost, drawing upon every ounce of ingenuity she possessed. That her tales were at least interesting, if sometimes farfetched, was evidenced by the occasional chuckle or snort of disbelief emanating from Blackbourne’s groom, seated on his small perch just behind them.
The grays were tiring by the time the Three Ducks came into view. “We’ll need to change horses here,” Blackbourne said when he pulled into the yard. “Would you care for something to drink?”
“I’m not thirsty,” Amanda said. “But if you would like—”
“No, I’m fine. This won’t take long.”
When Blackbourne jumped down to give directions to the ostlers, Amanda found she could no longer pretend that she was not frantic with worry about David. What would she have done, she wondered, if Blackbourne had not been available to help her? And why had she thought of turning only to him? She did not know him well. She did not understand him. She did not fully trust his motives.
But she had known intuitively that she could depend on him. And she had been right. No other man of her acquaintance could have brought her so far so quickly and at so little peril to the safety of his passenger or the horses. His skill with the reins was spectacular.
As was the depth of his perception. Not even Becky could have so skillfully guided her thoughts into channels that, while still centered on David, did not consist wholly of worry about him.
Amanda watched Blackbourne as he dealt with the ostlers. His manner was bantering and whatever he was saying had resulted in the ostlers smiling broadly. At the same time, he managed to maintain his dignity so that while even his groom was laughing, not one of the servants showed less than total respect for him. In fact, all appeared to be working at top speed despite their grins.
Really, there was much to admire in Blackbourne, Amanda decided. Despite the fact that he had no doubt dressed more quickly than usual that morning, his appearance was neat to a fault. His fashionably styled hair barely brushed upon the collar of his driving coat, which in turn lay across shoulders that were as broad as any Amanda had ever seen. He had the appearance of a man upon whom one could depend and Amanda could not help but wonder if that helped explain why she had experienced no hesitation in calling upon him for help.
Although—now that she thought about the manner in which she had sent for him so swiftly—she was puzzled by her own actions. After all, she had known Blackbour
ne for less than a month and she had not been at all sure she trusted him. In fact, she had sometimes feared him, yet she had turned to him without conscious thought when she had been in need.
Of course, Blackbourne had shown considerable interest in David’s welfare. And he was, after all, David’s legal guardian. Perhaps that explained— But no. Blackbourne’s being David guardian had little or nothing to do with her turning to him for help. It was something deeper than that. Something Amanda did not wish to consider further at the moment.
She noted with some relief that the grooms had finished changing the horses. Blackbourne slipped each a coin and hurried to take his seat beside her. “We shall be there soon,” he assured her with a comforting smile as he again took the reins.
“Yes,” Amanda said with a sigh. She knew that as they grew closer to Willow Place, each mile would seem longer than the last. She clutched her hands together in her lap, plastered a smile on her face and determined that she would endure the next hour without complaining.
Chapter Fourteen
Blackbourne spent the last leg of their journey driving with all the skill he possessed while surreptitiously watching Amanda. Her strained smile never wavered, nor did she unclench her hands. It was obvious she was calling upon a deep reservoir of willpower and pride to sustain her, and Blackbourne found his admiration for the beautiful woman at his side growing with each passing mile. No highborn lady of his acquaintance could have maintained that quiet facade of calm when her nerves were clearly frayed to pieces.
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