by Sandra Heath
She stared in astonishment. “You are supposed to be in bed!’’
He sighed irritably, swirling the glass and draining it in one swallow. “It’s all a fuss about nothing, and Longford is without a doubt the most pompous ass in creation.”
“I agree with you about the doctor, but not about the fuss being about nothing. Stephen, you fell in the Thames and struck your head, and you should therefore be obeying the doctor’s orders.” She went to him, removing the glass from his hand and giving it to the valet. “Take the decanter away, Frederick,” she said.
Frederick was reluctant to obey her when he knew his master wished the cognac to remain in the room, but at the same time he did not like to defy his master’s sister. He stood there unhappily glancing from one to the other.
He was forty years old, a former postboy whose riding career had ended when his leg had been broken in an accident, leaving him with a stiff knee and a pronounced limp. His easygoing nature and ability to learn quickly had commended him to Stephen, whose thoroughbred horse he had ridden several times in matches against other blood horses, and the position of valet had been accepted the moment it was offered.
Emma fixed him with a cross look. “That will be all for the moment, Frederick,” she said, pointedly nodding toward the decanter.
Without another murmur, the valet picked up the decanter and removed it from the room.
Stephen was indignant with her. “Oh, don’t be tiresome, Sis! I received a slight knock on the forehead and a brief dunking in the Thames, neither of which events requires me to be treated like a chronic invalid!”
“Stephen, when you came back here you were trembling and shaken.”
“Because I was cold, that’s all,” he interposed. “Oh, why on earth did you have to send for Longford? It really wasn’t necessary.”
“Saunders sent for the doctor because he was given a message that that is what he should do. Stephen, your friends believed a medical examination was of paramount importance, and I happen to agree with them. You struck your head, and you were in the water for a long time, and—”
“A few minutes.”
“Very well, you were in the water for a few minutes, but the water was very cold, and so was the air when you were pulled out. You were then brought back here still in your wet clothes. Dr. Longford is right to fear inflammation of the lungs if you do not adhere to his instructions.”
Stephen sighed again, giving her a grumpy look. “You can be incredibly overbearing at times, Emma Rutherford,” he grumbled.
“Then do not give me cause,” she replied, pointing firmly toward the bed.
With a theatrical sigh he untied the dressing gown and flung it on the bed. Then he kicked off his slippers with decidedly ill grace and climbed into the bed, where he lay back on the pillows, scowling at her. “Will this do?”
“For the moment,” she replied. “You are to remain in bed, sir, for if I hear that you’ve been disobeying the doctor’s orders, then I will deal very firmly with you.”
“Poor Kane. He is undoubtedly about to acquire a dragon of the first degree,’’ he replied. Then he leaned back, surveying her a little speculatively. “And how did the great meeting go? Was the old boy human, or a monster?”
“Human.”
“You liked him, I take it?”
“Yes, and I believe that he liked me.”
Stephen smiled. “Another ordeal that did not live up to expectations?”
She sat on the edge of the bed, smiling as well. “Yes, I suppose so.”
“You seem different,” he said, observing her. “Have things warmed between you and Kane?”
She hesitated. “I understand more now. I know about the Countess of Purbeck, for instance.”
Stephen’s lips parted in astonishment. “You do?”
“Yes. He told me himself.”
Stephen sat up. “You do not seem exactly upset,” he said.
“Why should I be? Now that I know the truth, I can understand why she is behaving as she does. I can also understand why you and she are so at odds. It is on account of me and the match, isn’t it?”
“Yes.” He sat back again, a rather bemused expression on his face. “I must say, your composure is quite astonishing,” he murmured.
“I’m not totally without knowledge of the world, Stephen,” she replied a little crossly.
“Yes, but all the same—”
“I would rather know than be surrounded by mysteries,’’ she said, getting up and going to the window.
Stephen’s room, like hers, looked out over the rear gardens toward the mews lane behind the house. The September sun was still fairly high in the sky, but the shadows were beginning to lengthen. In the neighboring garden the doves fluttered prettily and somewhere nearby a dog was barking.
Mayfair stretched away in perennial elegance, its grandeur only slightly spoiled by the views of the rears of the houses. The symmetry of the front elevations may have been missing, but the luxury and quality were still there, and there were the gardens, so leafy and beautiful.
Stephen watched her. “Are you happy, Sis?”
“Yes,” she replied, remembering the moment Gerald had taken leave of her. Oh, how sweet it had been when he had kissed her cheek.
“Well, at least one of us is,” Stephen mused.
She turned quickly.
He smiled a little ruefully. “I have my debts to face up to, a fact which I wish I could conveniently forget.”
“Oh, Stephen …” She went back to the bed, sitting down and taking his hand. “You can still have my jewelry, you know.”
“That will be my very last resort. I will have to ask Avenley how long he will give me.”
She released his hand. “Lord Avenley called here when you were out.”
“He did? What did he want?”
“I don’t know, exactly, but I had no option but to receive him. Stephen, I find him totally abhorrent.”
Stephen nodded reluctantly. “I have to confess that I am no longer quite as enamored,” he conceded. Then he looked at her again. “Did he mention my lOU’s?”
“Among other things.”
“What did he say about them?”
“That they would be very simple to redeem.”
Stephen’s eyes brightened. “He did? Are you sure?”
“As sure as I can be.”
He closed his eyes, exhaling with relief. “If he will only let me pay up piecemeal.”
“He didn’t say what he meant. By the way, to change the subject a little, it seems that all the speculation about Lord Castlereagh challenging Mr. Canning to a duel may be on the point of becoming fact.”
“There is going to be a duel?”
“Gerald and Lord Yarmouth have been summoned to Lord Castlereagh’s house this evening.”
“Then it must indeed mean a duel,” Stephen murmured. He glanced at her. “So it’s ‘Gerald’ now, is it? Things have indeed progressed.”
She colored, and ignored the remark. “I hope there isn’t a challenge, for dueling is so very hazardous.”
“Women never understand these things. Sis, men must always defend their honor, and the honor of their families. If anyone were ever to insult or injure you, I would not hesitate to call him out for his pains.”
“I would rather be insulted than have to arrange your funeral,” she replied with feeling.
There was a tap at the door, and at Stephen’s call, Dolly came in.
She curtsied. “Master Stephen, Miss Emma, I thought you would like to know that Mr. Rutherford is now awake. He doesn’t know about the accident, and so I’ve come straight to you.”
Emma nodded and got up. “I’ll go to him right now.” She looked down at Stephen. “I’m going to be very firm with you, sir, and I’m going to insist that you obey Dr. Longford’s orders. I know that you feel all right at the moment, but that doesn’t alter the fact that you were far from well when your friends brought you home. A dunking in the Thames and a blow to the head are not to
be shrugged off lightly, and so you are to do as you’re told.”
“But, Sis—”
“Stephen, I’m not open to persuasion on this. Father will agree with me, as you well know,”
“Father has to do everything doctors tell him to do. I don’t.’’
“In this instance you do, sir,’’ she replied. “Try to sleep now, for sleep is an excellent restorative.”
“Except that, there is nothing to restore, because I’m perfectly well, apart from a slight bump on the head,” he grumbled, touching the bandage and then wincing a little because it hurt.
“You see? It isn’t just a slight bump, it’s quite a nasty blow.”
“Oh, very well, I concede that I’ll have a lump there for the next few days.”
She smiled. “If I hear from Frederick that you’ve been out of that bed for anything other than necessity, I shall tell Father about your lOU’s.”
“You wouldn’t!”
“Try me.”
He glared at her. “You’ve made your point.”
“Good.” Turning, she left the room.
Chapter Thirteen
Emma was still fast asleep when Dolly brought her her morning cup of tea the next day. The maid placed the dainty gold-and-white porcelain cup and saucer on the table next to the bed and then went to draw the curtains back to allow the morning light in. It was bright outside, the sun shining down from yet another clear blue sky.
Emma stirred in the bed, her dark hair dragging on the lace-edged pillow. Her eyes flickered and opened, and she smiled up at Dolly as the maid came to the bedside.
“Good morning, Miss Emma. It’s another lovely day,” said the maid, waiting until her mistress had begun to sit up and then plumping up the pillows behind her.
“Good morning, Dolly. How is my brother?” Emma asked, accepting the cup of tea.
“I believe he had a rather restless night, Miss Emma.”
“Restless?”
“Yes, miss.”
“Is he otherwise all right?” Emma feared the onset of a fever.
“I think so, miss.”
“I’ll go to see him directly I’ve dressed.”
“Yes, Miss Emma. Which gown will you wear today?”
“Oh, the cream sprigged muslin, I think.”
“Yes, miss.’’ Dolly bobbed a curtsy and then hurried through into the dressing room, where she again drew back the curtains. As the maid went to select the gown from one of the three large wardrobes, Emma called after her.
“How is my father this morning?”
“He slept well, miss, and has sent word down to the kitchen that he intends to get up for breakfast.”
When Dolly had laid out the gown and its accessories, she returned to the bedroom to do what she could to encourage the fire into life. A housemaid would shortly come to attend to it, but in the meantime it had almost gone out.
Emma replaced her cup and saucer on the table and then lay comfortably back on the pillows. She wondered what had transpired at Lord Castlereagh’s house the evening before. Was a challenge to be issued to the foreign secretary? She hoped not, for she liked Lord Castlereagh and did not like to think of him facing an adversary in a duel.
The door of the bedroom was flung unceremoniously open, and Stephen strode briskly in. He was dressed in his pine-green riding coat, cream cord breeches, a rose armazine waistcoat, and shining top boots. A diamond pin glittered in the folds of his neckcloth, and he carried his top hat, gloves, and riding crop. He had removed the bandage from his head, revealing a very ugly bruise that had swollen since the day before. His face was a little flushed, and his eyes were oddly bright. Perhaps too bright.
Emma sat forward in astonishment. “Stephen. What on earth … ?”
“We agreed to ride in Hyde Park one day soon, and since this morning is so fine, I thought there is no time like the present. I’ve told Saunders to send someone for two suitable horses, and all you have to do is get up. We can be there and back before breakfast.”
She stared at him.
“Well, don’t just look at me, Sis. Get up and get dressed.”
“Stephen, you are supposed to be in bed. You know what Dr. Longford said.”
“A plague on Longford. Emma, there’s nothing wrong with me, I had an excellent night, I feel as fit as the proverbial fiddle, apart from a slight headache, and I would very much like you to accompany me on a ride in the park.”
“But—”
“Don’t coddle me, Sis. Look at me, I’m absolutely fine.” He spread his arms and grinned at her.
She was disturbed. He seemed well, and yet at the same time he didn’t seem quite himself. “Stephen, let’s leave the ride for another day, when we are certain beyond any doubt that you have recovered from yesterday.”
“That quack really knows how to earn his guinea, doesn’t he? Emma, there is nothing wrong with me, and I intend to go for a ride whether or not you accompany me, so you might as well indulge your passion for riding and give in to me.” He grinned again.
She suddenly found herself returning the grin. “Oh, very well, since you do indeed look remarkably hale and hearty. I’ll be ready in fifteen minutes.”
“That’s more like it.” He left the room again, but as he closed the door behind him, he paused for a moment, closing his eyes as everything swam slightly. Then he recovered, and hurried on down to the hall to wait for her.
If Emma had witnessed his momentary dizziness, she would never have complied with his wishes, but she saw nothing, and so remained convinced that he was quite well. She even decided that her own doubts about him were imagined, for surely someone could not be ill and behave as he was behaving? He seemed in such good spirits, and certainly did not lack energy.
In less than fifteen minutes she hurried down the staircase in her aquamarine velvet riding habit, which had a jacket trimmed with black military braiding. Her little hat resembled a soldier’s shako, complete with festoons and tassels, but was at the same time very feminine indeed, with a dainty net veil that concealed her face. Dolly had pinned her hair up into a knot beneath the hat, without even a single ringlet or curl protruding.
Stephen smiled approvingly. “How very stylish, Sis. I vow that you look every inch the fine London lady.”
“Thank you.”
“Come on, then.” He offered her his arm, and together they proceeded out into the sunshine.
The morning air was still very cold, and it seemed to Emma that the leaves in the square were more golden, as if the overnight cold had burnished them. The riding stable had provided two very fine mounts, a pretty dapple gray for Emma and a large red bay for Stephen.
Stephen assisted her to mount, and then turned to climb onto the bay. Emma was arranging her skirt and did not see how once again her brother had to pause. He closed his eyes for a moment, for the world seemed to be slowly revolving, but then it all became steady again, and he mounted. They rode toward the beginning of Upper Grosvenor Street, only to find it blocked by an accident at the far end, and so they rode north around the square to use the Upper Brook Street route instead.
Emma hadn’t given Upper Brook Street any further thought at all, but now she found herself wondering what its significance was. She glanced at Stephen, half-inclined to press him again to explain to her, but then she decided against it. It could not possibly be anything of great importance, and she had surely learned the lesson now that she must stop questioning everything where Gerald was concerned.
Their horses’ hooves echoed along the elegant street, where everything was very quiet. But then a large dog began to bark at them from behind some closed wrought-iron gates, and Emma’s horse shied. Stephen reined in, waiting to see that she could control her mount. For a moment the dapple gray continued to dance around and toss its head, but gradually Emma soothed it, for she was an excellent horsewoman.
She patted the animal’s neck, and was about to urge it on again when something drew her attention to the large white mansion on he
r right. As she looked, a bright-red curricle she had seen before was brought around from the stables at the rear of the mansion. The team of two black horses was very fresh indeed, and had obviously only just been harnessed.
Emma stared, for the curricle was Gerald’s.
Stephen followed her glance, and then pressed his lips together a little pensively as he looked at Emma again.
She straightened slowly in the saddle, still gazing at the curricle. It was far too early for a social call, and besides, the team was obviously fresh after a night’s rest. There was only one conclusion to reach, and that was that Gerald had spent the night at the mansion.
Thanks As she looked, the door of the house opened and Gerald himself emerged. He was dressed in formal evening wear, and he didn’t glance at the groom as he climbed lightly into the curricle, urging the team swiftly into action.
Emma maneuvered her horse a little further along the street as he drove away from the mansion, turning the curricle toward Grosvenor Square. He didn’t glance at the two riders, but even if he had, it was doubtful he would have recognized them. Stephen’s hat cast his face in shadows, and his coat collar was turned up, and Emma’s face and hair were hidden by her hat and veil.
She turned in the saddle, watching the curricle drive swiftly away and vanish into the square; then she looked at her brother. “Whose house is it, Stephen?” she asked quietly.
He was a little perplexed. “Surely you know already?”
“If I did, I would not ask,” she replied.
“Look, Sis, yesterday you told me that you knew all about Kane and the Countess of Purbeck.”
Emma stared at him. “Yes, but—”
“Then why should you be so surprised to see him leaving her residence after spending the night there?”
Behind her veil, Emma’s eyes widened and her lips parted on a stifled gasp. “What are you saying?” she whispered, her gaze fleeing to the house again.
Stephen was silent for a moment, and then he drew a heavy breath, tilting his hat back. “What exactly did Kane tell you yesterday, Sis?” he asked gently.
“That he had had a very brief affair with her in the spring, an affair that he deeply regrets, but which she wishes to revive.’’