Faith And Her Devoted Duke

by Lynda Hurst

  It bore some heavy thought, but at the moment, he had Faith to worry about. Faust had finished applying his salve, and Devlin directed, “Faust, if you would fetch the doctor, the three of us can stay with her until your return.”

  “Yes, Your Grace,” Faust replied, then instructed, “Keep her calm and quiet, but keep her awake. We can’t be sure that the hit to her head hasn’t addled her brains, but all the same, she needs to be alert until the doctor takes a look at her.” Faust left the room hurriedly, as Devlin frowned at the implication that doing otherwise would have an adverse effect on Faith’s health. She was his ward, after all, and her well-being was in his hands now.

  Settling the chair he was dozing in earlier much closer to Faith’s bedside, he seated himself and prepared to talk her ears off until the doctor arrived. If need be, he’d re-enact the entire five acts of Hamlet if it would keep her attentive and aware. Anything to keep her from falling asleep. Mary and Jackson were on the other side of the bed, seated on cushioned stools while keeping a watchful eye on the both of them.

  Before Devlin could begin his oration, Faith mumbled with obvious difficulty, “Sketchbook?” It hurt her to talk, and she shut her eyes once more against the pain. Taking her cue from Faust, Mary soothed her, “Breathe, Faith. Slow, deep breaths. Then no more talking for you. You just lay there and rest.”

  Devlin interjected, “Let us do the talking to keep you occupied.” Jackson and Mary murmured their agreement to do the same. “Between the three of us, I’m sure we can provide ample conversation that is stimulating and noteworthy enough to keep you awake.”

  “Now, about this sketchbook,” Devlin started, bringing the conversation back to where Faith was trying to lead it. “Faust made mention of it when I had asked him why you weren’t coming to dinner. I trust we can let Jackson and Mary in on what you’ve been working on?” Faith gave an imperceptible nod, grimacing at the slight movement.

  The twins were already aware of Faith’s efforts, but the mention of a sketchbook was a new development they were eager to hear about. Mary patted Faith’s hand, urging Faith via touch to calm herself and be still.

  “From Faust’s brief explanation,” Devlin started, “this sketchbook belonged to Faith’s mother.” Jackson and Mary were mirroring each other’s surprise, and observing them so made Devlin clearly see their familial resemblance. Continuing, he said, “And Faith seems to believe it was the journal her mother meant for her to find as it holds the key to her family’s legacy. The same legacy her mother was attempting to uncover.”

  Jackson queried, “Where’s the sketchbook now?”

  Devlin admitted, “I don’t know. I hadn’t seen evidence of it since Faust and I found Faith on the library floor.” Still not convinced Faith had been hurt deliberately, it was possible the book had been shoved aside underneath the chaise lounge during the commotion, and said just as much.

  Mary volunteered, “I’ll go look for it once the doctor has a look at Faith. I don’t feel like I can leave her like this without knowing she’ll be alright.”

  Jackson piped up, “I’ll go now. I don’t know how much help I’d be around here until the doctor arrives.” He jumped out of his seat to leave, but Mary said, “If you find it, leave it here with Faith for her to look at later.” They passed each other a look that spoke of understanding Faith’s need to treasure anything belonging to her mother. He nodded his assent then left the room.

  Devlin had watched the short interaction between the siblings and remarked, “It’s amazing how you two seem to speak in an unspoken language that only the two of you share.”

  Mary smiled a small smile. “Yes, it drives our parents batty when we do it in front of them. They can’t quite understand how we know what the other is feeling or thinking. We’ve been doing it so long that it’s become second nature for us, and sometimes we don’t realize we’re doing it at all until someone mentions it.”

  Glancing at Faith, Mary continued, “Faith has been like our own sister since the moment we’ve met. She needed us as much as we needed her, and best of all, she understands us much more than our own parents do.” Faith reached out a shaky hand, and Mary caught it in her own and squeezed gently.

  “How so?” Devlin asked, curious to know more about Faith as a child.

  “That unspoken language you mentioned? She does it with us, too. I suppose Faith has always been a good watcher of people and seems to know almost instinctively what Jackson or I are thinking or feeling. She’s never been wrong.”

  Devlin believed that Faith’s people-reading ability had arisen from being forced to guard herself against her father’s mercurial mood swings when she was younger. It was a survival instinct, one that he had wished Faith had not had to learn so young. He said nothing, but he was curious about what made them a trio at a young age, so he asked them outright but expected only Mary to answer.

  “It was our great-aunt Meg. You remember her, don’t you?” Mary asked. Devlin nodded, thinking back to the day he had brought a young Faith to her cottage. “When we moved to Ellesmere Park from the City, Jackson and I were about eleven or so, and Aunt Meg had met with us once we were settled in. She had brought Faith with her to meet us, instructing us to spend as much time with her as we possibly could. It wasn’t hard to deduce the reason when we realized that Faith rarely invited us to visit at her home. We knew Aunt Meg had orchestrated our meeting so that Faith had at least one means of escape through us.”

  At Mary’s recollection, Faith had not known the initial reason the Ellesmere twins brought her out to play so often. Tears collected in the corners of her eyes, believing they pitied her, but she was too late to dash them away before Mary took notice. “Oh, sweetheart,” Mary eased. “If you only knew how much of a difference you’ve made in our lives, you’d know it’s not pity we feel for you. Please know that Jackson and I love you for what you’ve made us. You’ve turned two selfish, spoiled brats who’ve never thought of anything better than themselves into caring, loving people who now know that the world could use more compassion and strength, like the kind you’ve displayed all your life.”

  Faith could only let the tears fall unchecked as an outpouring of such love for her closest friends welled up and overflowed inside her. “I love you, too,” was all she could manage to say.

  Devlin observed this exchange between the two women and noted how easy it was for them to pour out such strong yet tender feelings. It was outside his realm of experience to know such depth of feeling, yet he was drawn in and almost envious over wanting to know exactly what Faith obviously had with the Ellesmeres. He was glad that Faith had someone to turn to while growing up, to ease the likely loneliness of living at Revelstoke Place. But now that he was part of Faith’s life once again, he was hoping that Faith would rely on him the same way she did the twins.

  A collection of footsteps sounded outside Faith’s open bedchamber door, announcing the arrival of Faust, Jackson, and the doctor. With Faust leading the way to Faith’s bedside, the doctor followed closely behind. At the foot of Faith’s bed, the doctor bowed to Devlin and introduced himself. “Your Grace, I’m Doctor Harrison Crowe. I was told by the, er, valet, that there is a patient here who has suffered a blow to the head.”

  Devlin scowled at the sight of the doctor as he had not been expecting a young man with handsome features to show up in the doctor’s place. “Are you certain you’re a doctor?” Devlin said, with eyes narrowed suspiciously at the poor man. “You look nothing like what I expected.” Faith, who was watching everything silently, had to hold back the urge to roll her eyes at Devlin’s rude behavior.

  Doctor Crowe smiled patiently. “Yes, Your Grace. If you are worried about my credentials, the Royal College of Surgeons will be happy to provide them to you. Now may I see the patient?”

  Devlin harrumphed at Doctor Crowe’s swift dismissal of him as Mary hid a smile behind her hand. “If you have to ask, isn’t it obvious who the patient is? I’m not the one laid up in bed with a head inju
ry,” Devlin said belligerently. Faith wanted to swat him, but he wasn’t close enough for her to try. He was acting like a ninny and from what she could guess, it was the handsome doctor to blame for Devlin’s bad behavior. Doctor Crowe turned to Faith and asked, “My lady, if I may?” She nodded her consent and tried not to let on how that small movement had hurt.

  Doctor Crowe bore Devlin’s reply with good grace and moved closer to where Faith lay. In a gentle manner, Doctor Crowe explained to Faith what he was going to do before he did it. He turned her head away to her left so he could carefully examine the lump behind her right ear. It was still tender, even after the application of Faust’s salve. Then with the help of a candle, he inspected her eyes, asking her to follow the flame as he moved it from one side to the other.

  Devlin stood ready to pound the doctor to a pulp if he even remotely tried anything untoward. Complete with his examination, Doctor Crowe turned to face the rest of the worried onlookers, and said, “She’ll be fine. The next few days may see her suffer from headaches but no laudanum for now until I come back to see how she’s doing in a few days.”

  Addressing Devlin, Doctor Crowe smiled and said, “Your Grace, as a new doctor in the area, I’ve already built a good reputation with the people I serve and will not do anything to impair my chances here. I assure you that I have no designs on Lady Revelstoke as I’m sure my fiancée would no doubt strongly oppose such an inclination. If you have no objections, Your Grace, may I be free to check Lady Revelstoke’s progress in a few days?”

  Devlin stoically gave Doctor Crowe a nod, and a satisfied Doctor Crowe saw himself out. Jackson took the chance to punctuate the momentary silence with a loud guffaw at Devlin’s expense as soon as the doctor was no longer within earshot. Devlin shot Jackson a dark look, and said, “I didn’t like the look of him.” Both Mary and Faust were struggling to hold back their laughter while poor injured Faith only managed to moan weakly, laughter being too much for her head to handle.

  Faust sobered at the sound of Faith’s pained moan and swiftly moved to round up everyone to out of the room to let the invalid rest. Faith cried out, “No!” She felt safer with someone she trusted rather than alone in her room, remembering vividly that she was calculatingly hit without knowing who her attacker was.

  Mary and Devlin collided with each other to reach Faith, and Devlin reassured Faust, “We will both stay with her.” Faith visibly relaxed, settling into her pillows and readily succumbed to the call of sleep.

  Faust gave Devlin a dubious look but only said, “You may stay if the both of you are quiet. She needs her rest.” With that warning, Faust turned to usher Jackson out the door.

  Mary glanced at her brother, giving him one of those twin-only language looks, and Jackson had looked up as if he felt her eyes on him, then responded with a shake of his head before leaving with an apologetic smile.

  Having witnessed this silent exchange, Devlin had to ask, “What was that about?”

  Mary merely said, “I had forgotten I’d sent Jackson to check for the sketchbook before the doctor arrived. I guess he knew I was going to ask after it, but he didn’t find it.”

  Devlin raised a brow. “All of that from a simple glance? I find that positively eerie.”

  Mary grinned. “Call it what you will. Faith herself coined it as ‘twin-tuition’.” Then she picked up her book from earlier and settled in her chair more comfortably to resume her place.

  Devlin had no such amusement about, so he chose to watch Faith’s sleeping form. Like he told himself earlier, he had some heavy thinking to do. If the sketchbook wasn’t there, then it was entirely possible Faith was telling the truth, and someone had taken it after she had been struck down. But why? Why would the sketchbook be valuable to someone other than Faith? Whomever had hidden away the journal, and the sketchbook, must have thought it necessary to do so to prevent those with greed in their hearts from finding it. The more he thought on it, the more he was convinced that someone else was after the Revelstoke legacy. And that someone must have known that the sketchbook was instrumental to its discovery.

  Watching Faith as she breathed deep breaths in sleep, he vowed he wouldn’t allow her to delve further into this treasure hunt. It was too risky for her health if she continued. With an unknown attacker on the loose, he was sure to be on guard while in his own home, uncertain if he would have to do so against his own family.

  15

  Faith whistled a soft tune while exploring the simple but elegant gardens of the Prestonridge townhouse, swinging her parasol to and fro. She had been urged by Faust to bring the parasol to use as a cane since he observed her dizzy spell the other day; if she refused, he would have called Devlin to escort her outside. And she very much wanted to be alone with her thoughts this morning.

  Being confined to bedrest did not sit well with Faith after Doctor Crowe’s first visit, and she was glad to be out of her room and out of the house. She wasn’t one to fritter away her time doing nothing, and her hands had itched for her paper and ink while restricted to her bed. However, under the watchful eyes of Mary, Jackson, and Faust, she was forced to do nothing strenuous, mentally or physically. Devlin himself enforced the rule that at least one of them be on hand to ensure Faith stayed put until Doctor Crowe told them otherwise. As a result, she had made an awful patient until Doctor Crowe had arrived to proclaim her well enough to go about her normal activities.

  With the sun shining and everyone indoors preparing for their first event of the Season, Faith needed time away from everyone to rethink her immediate future and to revise her plans for the long term. She originally agreed to come to London as Devlin’s ward to be introduced to society, a task that should have been her own parents’ responsibility, and she knew Devlin intended for her to seek out a husband among the ton but her heart was no longer hers to give to anyone else. Her original plan to form an engagement and crying off as soon as she found her mother’s journal was no longer an option.

  She kept her mother’s journal close so she could reach out and hear her mother’s voice through its pages. It sat undisturbed in her nightstand drawer. Oddly enough, she had visited the library that morning before breakfast and had found the sketchbook nestled in the cushions of the chaise lounge. Mary and Jackson had stated that the sketchbook was nowhere to be found that day they had found her unconscious on the library floor, yet here it was in her hands once again, safe and unblemished. None of the pages were torn or missing from the book, giving her reason to think that there had been nothing noteworthy for whomever tried to steal it from her.

  Going over each finely drawn sketch, she felt that her mother was speaking to her once more through the pages, urging her to look deep for clues of the next piece of the Revelstoke legacy. But none of her mother’s drawings gave any indication of how to find the next clue. Faith decided she might need the help of her friends to sort out this particular puzzle, and also elected to consult Devlin for more details about the last known whereabouts of both their parents.

  As for a future engagement, she knew Devlin expected it of her, and it was the reason for her coming here at all. Being so close to him, yet closed off from her, Faith hadn’t much optimism in the success of any other forthcoming marriage prospects. She knew her heart had always belonged to Devlin, but didn’t dare hope that he could ever become hers, not when he was her guardian who wanted to thrust her into the care of another man.

  Devlin’s determination to marry her off sparked a little flame of anger inside her, as it was an imposition on the future she envisioned for herself. She saw herself continuing her work as a writer and enjoying her success with the ones she loved. If she couldn’t have Devlin by her side, cheering her on, then she would much rather go through life as a spinster, dedicating her time to her other loves: music and writing.

  She was so deep in thought that she wasn’t completely aware of her surroundings and narrowly missed smashing her nose into a low-cut branch. A low baritone behind her growled, “We did not nurse you
back to health only to have you almost brain yourself a second time!”

  She whirled in a flurry of skirts to face Devlin astonished that he’d been watching her without her hearing him approach. “Devlin! Don’t sneak up on me like that! I honestly don’t know how a man of your size can move about so quietly.”

  Advancing nearer, Devlin teased, “Now, there are three things I have to address. Are you saying I’m portly? To which I answer that I’m offended. As to the second, I will take it as a compliment to my catlike, predatorial skills. And lastly, you’ve only just recovered from your injury, and you can’t afford another one.”

  Her brain had affixed itself on his first statement, disregarded the rest, and she looked him up and down. Not an ounce of portliness could be found on Devlin’s body, and she knew he regularly made visits to Gentleman Jack’s since they came to town. His physique was just short of divine, and she knew, judging by the admiring looks shot his way, that other women thought the same. However, nothing about his cheerful, teasing demeanor reminded her of anything close to a predator, and so she chose to focus on that instead.