Lord Kane's Keepsake

by Sandra Heath

  “Oh, Emma …”

  Her green eyes were very large and unhappy as they searched his face. “Are you telling me that that is not the truth?”

  He nodded slowly. “Sis, the countess has been Kane’s mistress for months now, and everyone in London accepts that if it were not for the fact that she is already married, then she would by now be the second Lady Kane.”

  Tears stung Emma’s eyes, and she strove to blink them away. Oh, what a gullible fool she’d been! How could she have been so witless as to believe Gerald’s tale of a single repented night?

  Stephen maneuvered his horse a little closer and leaned across to put his hand over hers. “Emma, I—”

  “Why didn’t you tell me? Why did you let me remain in ignorance?” she cried.

  “Because I hoped the affair was ending and that you would therefore never need to know about it. Emma, yours is an arranged match, and the world knows that such matches do not require faithfulness on the part of the husband, or on the part of the wife until she has produced the required heir. I confess that I was a little taken aback at your attitude yesterday, for you seemed to have taken it all so amazingly well, and I thought that you really were approaching it all with commendable calm.”

  “Well, now you know that I have simply been a gull,” she whispered.

  “You love him, don’t you?”

  She didn’t reply, but snatched her reins to urge her horse back along the street toward the square. There were tears in her eyes, and her breath caught on a sob.

  Stephen remained where he was for a moment. The strange dizziness of earlier had swept over him again, and he clung to the pommel of the saddle until it had passed; then he urged his mount after his sister.

  She reached the house and dismounted, pausing only long enough to loop the reins over the iron railings before hurrying into the house. Saunders was in the hall, and he went quickly to the table near the front door, picking up a letter that lay with the various calling cards.

  “Miss Rutherford, Lord Kane called very briefly to leave this letter.” He looked curiously at her, for she could not conceal her distress. “Is something wrong, madam?”

  “I’m quite well, thank you,” she replied, accepting the letter.

  Stephen entered, and spoke briefly to the butler. “Saunders, have the horses returned to the stables, if you please.”

  “Very well, sir.” The butler walked swiftly away to instruct a footman.

  Stephen hesitated again, for the weakness had returned, and was more confusing this time. He felt suddenly very hot, and had to lean his hands on the table, his head bowed.

  Emma saw nothing, for she was opening Gerald’s letter. Her hands trembled, and she struggled to quell the bitterness and emotion that filled her. Then she read:

  My dear Emma,

  I fear that I must cry off our drive this afternoon, for my duties as Lord Castlereagh’s second have intervened. As you will have gathered, Lord Yarmouth and I were indeed summoned last night to be asked to act in the unfortunate matter of a duel.

  Lord Castlereagh has written a very long letter, setting out his grievances, and it has fallen to me to deliver it to the foreign secretary, who is at present at South Hill, near Windsor. The letter conveys to him that nothing short of a duel will suffice, and suggests a meeting at dawn tomorrow, Thursday, the twenty-first, near Lord Yarmouth’s cottage at Putney Heath.

  Knowing that the drive to South Hill will take some time, and wishing to return to London in time to see what else I can do in support of my friend, I have taken the precaution of writing this explanatory letter to you, which I will leave, as it is most unlikely that you will be up at such an early hour.

  Seconds are required to do a great deal of negotiating, and I therefore doubt very much if I will be able to see you again before the duel, but I expect to call upon you directly it is over. I also trust that the outcome will be favorable to Lord Castlereagh.

  Please forgive me for failing to keep our appointment this afternoon, but I know that you will forgive and understand.

  Gerald

  Slowly Emma folded the letter again. Oh, yes, she could forgive and understand his loyalty to Lord Castlereagh, and she would not expect him to behave otherwise, but she could never forgive or understand his lies and deception over the Countess of Purbeck. For all his protestations the day before, he had that morning risen from his mistress’s bed, and that was something Emma Rutherford could not accept.

  Stephen watched her in concern. “What does it say, Sis?”

  “Read it if you wish,” she replied, giving it to him.

  He glanced through it and then looked anxiously at her. “This is not the letter of a man who cares nothing for you, Emma. Please consider the matter very carefully, and don’t do anything rash.”

  “Stephen, at this moment I really don’t know what I want to do. On the one hand I think that the marriage could still work, because there is sufficient warmth between Gerald and me, but then I am faced with his lies and the fact the countess is his mistress.”

  “But if you love him …”

  She lowered her eyes, and the tears wended their sad way down her pale cheeks.

  Stephen tilted her chin, making her look at him. “You do love him, don’t you?”

  Biting her lip, she nodded. “Yes,” she whispered, “yes, I love him with all my heart.”

  “Then don’t do anything you may regret. As his wife, you will hold all the trumps.”

  “How can I possibly fight someone like the countess? She has everything, and she is a woman of the world, whereas I am little better than a country bumpkin.”

  “Oh, Emma Rutherford, you sell yourself very short indeed. Kane likes you and wants to marry you. If he doesn’t love you yet, then surely there is an excellent chance that he will come to love you. The countess may be beautiful and fascinating, but above all she is a chienne, as even Kane will eventually realize.”

  “Stephen, he has lied to me about her, and I no longer trust him.”

  “Please, Sis, give it a great deal of thought before you act. If you love Kane, then he’s worth fighting for. Dammit, you’ll be Lady Kane, you’ll share not only his name but also his bed! I’d back you with such odds, Emma, believe me I would. Promise me that you won’t do anything just yet.”

  She swallowed. “I don’t know, Stephen—”

  “Please, Emma. If not for yourself, then for Father. You know how delighted he is about the match. Promise?”

  He looked intently into her tear-filled eyes. “Don’t give in without a fight, Sis, for if you do, then you are simply handing her the victory. I know that Kane is at fault in this, but there is something about his letter which makes me feel he must be given another chance. It’s the letter of a man of honor.”

  She broke away at that. “I’m tired of hearing about men of honor!” she cried, hurrying to the staircase.

  “Emma …”

  Stephen took a hesitant step after her, but suddenly everything began to spin sickeningly around him. A fierce heat rushed over him, and the light began to fade, as if he were falling into a dark pit. A low moan escaped his lips as he lost consciousness and fell heavily to the floor.

  Emma halted, whirling about as she heard him moan.

  “Stephen?” Her eyes widened with alarm, and she ran back to his unconscious figure. She knelt beside him, putting her hand to his cheek. His skin burned to the touch, and his eyelids fluttered, but she couldn’t arouse him.

  Fresh tears stung her eyes, and she scrambled fearfully to her feet. “Saunders! Saunders, come quickly!”

  Chapter Fourteen

  That evening, Emma and her father waited anxiously outside Stephen’s room, where Dr. Longford was once again carrying out a thorough examination. Stephen was now in the grip of a fever, and muttered unintelligibly as he tossed on the bed.

  Emma felt dreadfully guilty, blaming herself for what had befallen her brother. If only she’d been more firm that morning, and had refused to
let him get up or set out on the ride, and if only the physician had come immediately, but he had been out on another urgent call that had detained him for hours.

  At last the doctor emerged, and his baleful glance fell immediately upon Emma. “I can only presume that my instructions were ignored, madam.”

  “Not exactly—” she began.

  “I ordered that the patient was not to leave his bed, and yet it seems that not only was he encouraged to do this, but he was also allowed to leave the house itself! Perhaps I did not make myself perfectly clear after all, Miss Rutherford, for I cannot imagine that you would be remiss enough to permit all these things to happen when you knew what my instructions were, or that you—”

  Mr. Rutherford interrupted. “Sir, I am more concerned now with how best to look after my son from this point on, rather than hold an inquest into what should or should not have been done previously. Now, then, what is your judgment of his condition?”

  “My judgment is that he is suffering the effects of the blow to his head and that he has also contracted a very grave inflammation of the lungs. I have already administered some antimony powder to reduce the fever, but I shall also prescribe a strong dosage of willow bark. He must not be left alone, someone must sit with him at all times in order to continue giving him one hundred drops of laudanum every three hours, and also to be at hand should he enter a crisis.

  “It is a very savage distemper, aggravated by the blow he received to the head at the time of his accident. His pulse is thin, low, and weak, but I am still confident that he will successfully throw off the ague. It will take time, however, and great care must be observed at all times to see that he does not suffer another setback.

  “He is a healthy young man in every other respect, and should possess the physical strength and stamina to emerge safely from his grave difficulties. I have other patients I must attend now, but I will return in the morning to assess his progress.

  “Should anything particularly untoward occur in the intervening time, then you must send for me immediately. Should I be unavailable, then I suggest that, depending upon the urgency of the situation, you contact either Dr. Baillie of Conduit Street or Dr. Farquarson of Berkeley Square.”

  Mr. Rutherford nodded. “We will do that, Doctor.” Dr. Longford gave a cool bow, his disapproving glance encompassing Emma again for a moment, and then he again accepted a guinea coin, this time from Mr. Rutherford.

  As the doctor was going down the stairs, he paused as something else occurred to him. “One thing more. It has always been my experience that toast water is a sovereign remedy for inflammation of the lungs. Instruct your cook to take dried crumbs of wheaten bread, it must be wheat, and boil them with a little butter and salt. The strained liquid is then to be given to the patient.” With that he went on down the staircase to the entrance hall, where Saunders was waiting to give him his hat, gloves, and cane.

  As the front door closed upon him, Emma looked unhappily at her father. “I’m so very sorry about this, Father—”

  “You must not blame yourself, my dear.”

  “If only I’d been more firm with Stephen—”

  “Emma, I know only too well how insistent and willful your brother can be, and I am also aware of how unpredictable people are after a blow to the head. I have spoken to Dolly, and to Saunders, and so I know how difficult your position was. Maybe, with the benefit of what we know now, you should not have decided as you did, but it is always easy to say that after the event. You thought he was well, and no one blames you for that.”

  Tears stung her eyes, and she hugged him. “Thank you, Father.”

  “Not at all, my dear,” he murmured, patting her trembling shoulder. “Now, then, let us go in and see the patient,”

  Stephen stirred restlessly in the bed, his cheeks aflame with fever as his head tossed deliriously from side to side. His valet was leaning anxiously over him, patting his fiery skin with a cloth dipped in cool lavender water. The room was very hot and stuffy, for the fire had again been banked up, and fresh flames were licking eagerly around the coals and logs.

  Outside, the evening sun was beginning to sink toward the western horizon, for the day was drawing to a close. The sky was ablaze with crimson and gold, and thin horizontal clouds floated like islands in a flame-colored sea. It was going to be a cold night, and as Emma glanced out at the sprinkling of fallen leaves in the garden, she felt that autumn was advancing almost tangibly.

  Mr. Rutherford sat on the edge of Stephen’s bed and took his hot hand. “Stephen, my boy.”

  Stephen’s lips moved, but he didn’t speak. His eyelids flickered, almost as if he were about to look at his father, but nothing happened.

  “Can you hear me, my boy?”

  Still there was no response.

  The valet shook his head. “He’s out for the count, sir, and no mistake. The doctor said he might come around by dawn, or thereabouts.”

  “Dawn? I see.” Mr. Rutherford got up wearily and looked at Emma. “I think we should divide the time we sit with him, my dear. I will remain with him now, for I slept all afternoon again, and am feeling relatively fresh at the moment. You, on the other hand, appear to be somewhat tired and overanxious, and so I suggest you retire to your bed for a while.”

  “But, Father—”

  “Do as I say, Emma,” he insisted quietly, putting a firm hand on her arm. “I perceived earlier that you were distressing yourself over this, and so I took the precaution of dispatching a footman to purchase valerian root from the apothecary. It will assist you to relax and sleep.”

  “I don’t want to sleep, Father.”

  “I intend to sit with Stephen now, my dear, and I will be sure to send Dolly to awaken you when it is your turn. What point is there to us both sitting up with him, when it will only result in us both becoming tired at the same time? So do as I say, Emma. Dolly has already been instructed to prepare the valerian root for you, and I wish you to go to your bed now.”

  Reluctantly she gave in. “Very well, Father. You do promise to send for me if anything happens?”

  “Of course.”

  She kissed his cheek and then went to the bed, bending down to kiss Stephen. He muttered something unintelligible, but again made no other sign that he was closer to regaining consciousness.

  With a heavy heart she left the room, walking slowly along the passage. A footman was lighting the chandeliers down in the entrance hall, holding up a candle on a long handle. The crystals jingled softly together, and the new flames flickered gently, setting soft shadows swaying on the walls and columns.

  Dolly was waiting in her room, and the crushed valerian root was in a little dish on the bedside table. A silver spoon lay beside it.

  Emma said very little as the maid helped her to undress. She sat before the dressing table, watching in the looking glass as the hairbrush crackled through her long dark curls. The curtains were drawn, but the sunset pierced a crack, falling in a narrow shaft across the floor and the wardrobes.

  Wearing her lace-trimmed nightgown, Emma slipped reluctantly into her bed and accepted the valerian root.

  “Shall I sit with you, Miss Emma?” asked the maid.

  “No, that won’t be necessary, Dolly.”

  “You mustn’t blame yourself, miss, for anyone would have done what you did.”

  “Would they? I can’t believe that I was so utterly foolish as to be taken in like that. I knew he wasn’t well, and I knew what the doctor had said, but still I went out on that ride. I’ll never forgive myself. Never.”

  “Master Stephen will soon be quite well again, Miss Emma, and you’ll be able to put all this behind you. He won’t let you blame yourself, you may be sure of that.”

  Emma smiled at the maid’s sturdy support. “What would I do without you, Dolly Makepeace?”

  Dolly smiled as well. “You try to sleep now, Miss Emma. And try to think of something pleasing, like Lord Kane.”

  Emma’s smile faded a little. “Dolly, I’m
afraid that Lord Kane is not a pleasing subject.”

  “Miss Emma?” The maid was concerned.

  “Goodnight, Dolly.”

  “Miss Emma.” Dolly bobbed a little curtsy and then withdrew from the room, leaving a lighted candle by the bed.

  Alone, Emma stared up at the canopy of her bed. With all that had happened since the early morning, she had been able to push thoughts of Gerald from her mind, but now those thoughts returned, causing her more pain than she could bear. She loved him so much, and she’d believed everything he said. How cruel, then, to know that the Countess of Purbeck had been his mistress all along, and that last night, at least, he’d been in her arms at the mansion in Upper Brook Street.

  The tears were wet on Emma’s cheeks, and she turned away to hide her face in the pillow. The happiness she had glimpsed so fleetingly now seemed to have been dashed into nothing. Raine, Countess of Purbeck, was a powerful adversary, perhaps even an invincible one, and to struggle against her was surely a futile exercise.

  Stephen said that society knew Gerald would have married his mistress had she been free, which meant that the second Lady Kane would never be more than a cipher. She couldn’t proceed with the match, and when next she saw Gerald, she would tell him so. She would also tell him exactly why.

  It was some time before her tears subsided and the valerian root lulled her into sleep. Her heart felt as if it had been torn in two, and the pain ached endlessly through her, so much so that when she slept, her dreams were a continuation of the heartbreak she was enduring at Gerald’s hands.

  She could hear her heartbeats and see him as he faced her. His gray eyes were cold, and there was a cynical smile twisting his lips. He reminded her that he had never promised her a love match, and he called her a fool for ever presuming that he might regard her in anything other than a practical light.

  *

  The city was dark, and the clocks were striking two in the morning as a shadowy male figure slipped silently into the garden from the mews lane behind Grosvenor Square. It was a stealthy figure, stocky and broad-shouldered, and was dressed in an old brown boxcoat that had seen better days and a wide-brimmed beaver hat that kept his face completely in shadow. Not that his face could be seen anyway, for he wore a mask that left only his unshaven chin exposed.