by Kit Donner
She stood next to Mr. Bush’s chair, waiting as Longhorn examined her unconscious husband. Madelene felt comforted by Mr. Bush holding her hand tight, not realizing how much she needed a friend.
Swallowing hard, Madelene had no tears left to shed, surprised by her sudden and fierce concern over this stranger who overnight had become her husband. With her jaw set, her sentimentalities set aside, she would do whatever it took to make her husband well.
After the examination, the surgeon relieved everyone’s worries. The footmen, Mrs. Lavishtock, Madelene, Windthorp, and even Falstaff waited in the study to learn of the diagnosis.
“It appears, Mrs. Westcott, that your husband received a hard blow to the back of his head, which must have knocked him unconscious. I felt a large lump on the back of his head, but no further injuries. I can only assume that when he awakened, he found your brother and carried him home. The ordeal exhausted him beyond measure, and Mr. Westcott simply collapsed. He needs his rest but will recover nicely in a day or two.”
The surgeon paused. “Since this looks to be attempted murder, I’ll need to contact the constable.”
Madelene’s eyes widened. “Not yet, Mr. Longhorn. Please wait until we can speak to my brother or my husband about what has happened this night. Then we’ll do what needs to be done.”
Longhorn nodded and leaned to pick up his bag. No matter what the surgeon’s news, he could not prevent Madelene from worrying. She walked over to sit near the settee where her husband lay and clasped his hand to her breast, willing him to awake. The surgeon must have realized she needed more convincing because he leaned over to pat her shoulder.
“Mrs. Westcott, your husband will wake up tomorrow with a pain at the back of his head, but otherwise, he shall suffer no ill effects from this evening.”
Madelene looked up at him and smiled faintly. “Doctor, how can I ever repay you for saving both the men I love tonight?”
Longhorn chuckled. “My repayment would be one of your lovely smiles.”
Madelene tried her best to do as he asked.
It must have worked because the surgeon nodded and told her, “I’ll look in on the patients tomorrow.” He shrugged on his coat Graham handed him and left the room.
Since the surgeon said it would be safe to move Gabriel to his bedchamber, the footmen once again picked him up and gently carried him to the first floor.
After she saw to her husband’s needs and comfort, persuaded she could help him no further, she returned to the ground floor to find Mr. Bush collecting his greatcoat and hat, prepared for his departure.
Given the lateness of the hour, Madelene convinced Mr. Bush to accept a ride home. They walked together, arm in arm, down to the hall, after she sent one of the footmen for Cappie and their carriage.
A warm breeze rustled her hair as they stood outside on the porch. A lone footman held a candle for light.
“Mr. Bush, I cannot begin to thank you for what you have done. Your heroism will long be known to me and my husband, realizing it is a debt we can never repay.”
Mr. Bush patted her hand. “I don’t think I’m much good for many things without my eyesight, but I’ve always been a good swimmer, which served me in good stead tonight. I can only thank God I was in the vicinity when I heard your little dog barking. He led me to you. I was glad I could reach you in time.”
“Your humility is all goodness, but we shall always know the right of it. Please come again and often. I believe my husband will want for company in the coming weeks and to speak to you of his own gratitude.”
Madelene kissed Mr. Bush on the cheek and pressed his hand. “Addle-pated that I am, I did not inquire after your health from an unsought bath earlier this night. I hope saving me from a watery grave has done you no lingering harm.”
He turned his handsome visage toward her voice. “You certainly have been through quite a lot this night. You need to rest. As for me, have no fears. Other than no eyesight, everything else seems to be in good and working order.”
“I am quite relieved to hear this. You know, Mr. Bush, you are indeed an amazing man. I doubt there would be many men with sight who would have jumped in the lake to save me.”
Mr. Bush allowed himself to be helped into the carriage by Cappie. “Ah, Mrs. Westcott, there are many good men like your husband. I choose to believe that there is more kindness to be had in the world than naught.”
“Mr. Bush, you are too generous and a philosopher at heart. Safe journeys.”
The coach jerked off down the lane, and Madelene smiled in the dark, yet on the verge of tears from exhaustion, worry, fright, and especially kindness from a man she knew too little.
Collecting herself, she returned to the house. After seeing her brother slept undisturbed and receiving Fanny’s assurances she would awaken her should any change occur in his condition, Madelene headed to the first floor. She had another patient to see.
Inside their bedchamber, Gabriel slept soundly, and although Madelene wanted to crawl into bed with her husband, she needed to change from her damp clothes. She returned to his room to watch over him after acquiring dry nightclothes.
Afraid to disturb him, she chose a large, soft chair for a bed and fell asleep with Falstaff at her feet, dreaming of her husband, sitting in a tree. Had she really spoken the word “love” in referring to her husband? This thought scared her. What was to become of them?
“Sleeping Beauty, awake, fair maiden,” the voice called softly to her.
“Ruff, ruff, ruff.”
Madelene blinked awake and saw Falstaff on his hind legs, trying to climb onto the bed with Gabriel. As Gabriel leaned over to pick up Falstaff and plunk him on the bed, his flexing muscles distracted her. She remembered those strong arms holding her and wanted to crawl back into them and feel safe again.
The events of the previous night came whirling back to her, and she wondered if she would ever again know well-being. First, someone tried to kill her brother, then someone else or the same person pushed her into the lake. She wasn’t exactly confident of the order of the catastrophes.
What did it all mean? She didn’t know whom to suspect, but it couldn’t be her husband. She wanted to tell him what happened at the lake, but thought it best to wait until he was on the mend.
Falstaff distracted her thoughts with his movements, as he had to circle several times before settling down at the edge of the bed.
She turned her attention to Gabriel. “Good morning. How are you feeling today?” She hoped her tone sounded more cheerful than she felt, pushing her reluctant body into a sitting position. Her neck pained her from using the chair as a bed, but she cared more about Gabriel’s condition.
He appeared pale and winced when rubbing the back of his head. She frowned, distracted when noting he laid on his side, facing her, with a simple sheet covering the lower half of his body. Sometime in the night, he must have arisen and discarded his clothing, because they had definitely put him to bed still dressed in his outer clothes.
It would not do, it simply would not do to consider what he wore underneath the sheet, which in all probability was nothing.
Perhaps he sensed the direction of her thoughts, because he held out his hand to her. “Why don’t you join me? I can assure you this bed is more comfortable than the chair.” His warm brown gaze put her mind at peace. He seemed like the Gabriel from before last night’s near tragedy.
She hesitated, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. “I’m terribly glad to see you are feeling better, however, I should check on the other patient, Matthew. Everyone was very worried about both of you last night, causing such a fright. I still cannot fathom what actually occurred. Do you remember what happened?”
Gabriel winced again, then rolled over on his back, looking at the ceiling. “I don’t remember very much. Matthew and I had a conversation about the dagger. I had the dagger in my hand, and then I felt a sharp blow to the back of my head. I awoke and found Matthew unconscious and bleeding. I patched him up as best I c
ould, placed him on my horse, and walked him home.”
Madelene shook her head. “Did you see or hear anyone? Can you think of anyone who might have known of the meeting and wanted the dagger?”
Gabriel closed his eyes. “Perhaps. But I didn’t see or hear anyone.”
She could hardly believe his words. “Who do you think hurt Matthew and you? You know of someone?”
He turned his head to look at her. “I believe your brother wanted the dagger for Count Taglioni. If you had gone last night to meet your brother instead of me, I don’t want to think what might have happened.” His words were soft and low, his steady look unmistakable in his conclusion.
Madelene swallowed and nodded. The count wanted her and the dagger. “But if the count has the dagger, perhaps he’ll return to wherever he came from, and we’ll hear no more from him.”
On his side again, facing her, he shook his head. “We can’t assume he won’t return. For you.”
Her eyes widened at the threat, then she smiled, ready to toss off the darkness of last night. “I have no fear of the count because I know you’ll protect me.” Madelene rose from the chair and walked to the bed. “And my prayers were answered last night that you and Matthew are safe. That is all that matters.”
Before she could protest, he grabbed her hand and pulled her down on the bed with him, slightly jarring Falstaff, who growled and moved to the other corner of the bed.
Leaning on his elbow, he looked down at her and said, “You mean you actually prayed I would live? I thought you might have felt well rid of me, your husband, and already on your way back to London.”
His words mocked her, and if he meant to tease, he drew tears instead.
She looked up at him. “I do not find your words very amusing.”
If someone could look contrite and surprised at the same time, it was Gabriel. Could he have realized how deeply he wounded her with his words?
She frowned and pushed him away, fighting him to leave the bed. “This cannot be good for your head.”
“Ah, I think it would be a perfect thing for my head and other parts that ache.” He had a certain glint in his eye. And if she shifted more in his direction, she would feel those aching parts to which he referred.
She thought he needed more time to recover. Until the surgeon gave his opinion Gabriel was infinitely better, she would allow those parts to ache and hope the pain would go away on its own accord.
“Don’t leave. Tell me more about your prayers.”
“What more is there to tell?”
Without looking at her, he stroked her arm. “Tell me how worried you were about me. I like hearing it.”
Such audacity. Madelene had to chuckle. “There is nothing more to tell. I think my heart stopped beating until Mr. Longhorn informed us that both you and Matthew would survive. I don’t ever remember being so frightened before, and for both of you, except when my father had taken ill.”
“I like knowing you were worried about me. Maybe I should be hit on the head more often,” he mused with a smile.
“You should be careful for what you wish for. I may have to hit you on the head for all the aggravation you cause me. Now, no more frivolous talk,” she told him sternly.
He leaned farther over Madelene, his arm around her waist, until his lips almost touched hers.
She stopped him with a hand to his chest. “Wait.”
He blinked, obviously surprised. “Wait for what?”
“Did you marry me for the wager?”
“What? The wager? Where did this come from? How you fritter from one subject to another I can scarcely fathom. We can talk later. How about—”
“I need to know. Did you marry me for the bet?” He couldn’t possibly know why she asked, and she would tell him someday. Right now, she only wanted his answer.
He sighed and rolled onto his back. “No.”
“No? But surely you needed the funds?”
“No.”
Astonished, Madelene sat up and turned to look at her husband. “You didn’t need the money?” She couldn’t keep the incredulity from her voice.
When Gabriel turned his head to look at her, all amusement had left his eyes. “Madelene, I planned to win the bet, one way or the other. When I heard your brother was to marry you to that fop Brelford, I knew I had to put a stop to it. I concluded I could have you as my wife and win the money on top of it.”
“Hmmm.” She laid back on the bed. “I’ll have to think on this more.”
“Yes, you do that. Later. At the moment, I have something else in mind.”
A knock on the door disturbed their conversation.
It was Fanny. “Ma’am, your brother is asking for you.”
“Oh! Fanny, tell my brother I’ll be there directly. Thank you.”
This time, Madelene leaned over her husband to kiss him softly. “We shall continue this conversation. I want to learn more about why you desired me for a wife.”
She popped off the bed and hurried out the door to change before he could deter her with his winsome ways.
Madelene found her brother lying on his side, his eyes half open, watching her enter the room. She swept over to his bedside and sat in a chair next to his bed. “Matthew, how are you feeling this morning?”
Matthew closed his eyes and shook his head. “Mad, it hurts to breathe. When is the surgeon returning?”
Fanny, standing near the doorway, answered him. “Sir Colgate, I heard the doctor tell Mrs. Lavishtock he would be here before noon.”
“I wish it would be sooner,” he said to no one in particular.
Madelene took his hand. “Can you try to sleep? It might help, and you won’t feel the pain.”
Jerking his finger in Fanny’s direction, he demanded, “You, girl, get me something to drink. Whisky, brandy, whatever is handy.”
Fanny, wide-eyed, looked at Madelene for direction.
In consternation, Madelene bit her lip, then nodded. “Fanny, please check with Mrs. Lavishtock and bring some spirits to my brother.”
The maid quickly curtsied and fled the room.
Madelene sat quietly by her brother’s bed, and before Fanny could return with any liquor, she heard his snoring.
She leaned her head against the wall. Although relieved Matthew was safe, she worried for how long. Did the count still pose a threat to her brother? How could she help him? Of course, there was no question but that he continue here at Westcott Close for rehabilitation.
Then there was her own safety to worry over. Someone had deliberately pushed her into the lake. Reflecting on her short stay at Westcott Close, she thought she remembered the surgeon saying something about poison when she had fallen so ill.
“Is he dead?”
Madelene looked up to see Alec in her usual garb in the doorway. “No, he is not. The surgeon has told us his recovery will take some time, but he is not going to die.” She stood and walked out the door, closing it behind her. “Where were you last night when all this happened?”
The young woman took a step back in the hallway, looking both ways, as if trying to decide how to answer or which way to go. “I went to bed early and didn’t learn what happened until this morning when Mrs. Lavishtock told me. I’m glad Mr. Westcott was not hurt.” If Madelene didn’t know better, she’d think her words had an almost defensive tone to them, but she had no idea what it meant.
Alec turned and fled in the direction of the kitchen, leaving Madelene staring after her, very puzzled. I bet that girl knows something. And I plan to discover what it is.
Chapter Twenty
Days passed as both patients continued their healing. Gabriel mended much faster than Matthew, considering his injuries were not of such a severe nature. Mr. Bush visited nearly every day to both Gabriel and Madelene’s delight, for she was becoming increasingly fond of their neighbor.
Madelene and the rest of the staff spent many hours in Matthew’s room, changing his bandages and keeping him entertained. He even had Hazelby pl
ay whist with him.
Another change in the household was Madelene and Gabriel sleeping apart for those days. He couldn’t convince her that his head didn’t pain him, and it would heal much faster with her next to him in his bed. Concerned she might disturb him while he slept, she disagreed, knowing her husband indeed did not have sleep on his mind. She told him she thought it best if he had the bed to himself a little longer.
Madelene also felt rather strange sharing a bed with a man, and her brother lying wounded on the lower floor. To be sure, her brother expected her to share a bed with her husband, but the notion still rested uneasily with her.
And what about their future together? Gabriel had never spoken any affection for her. If she remained here as his wife, Madelene would have to give up her dream of returning to London and designing fashions for the haut ton. Not being dependent on any man for her livelihood. But they couldn’t divorce, and they couldn’t get an annulment. The only solution Madelene could imagine was remaining married but she living in London, and Gabriel living here at Westcott Close.
She’d need to have a talk with her husband about their future, and soon. Madelene wanted everything settled.
Gabriel recovered but spent much of the time reviewing his accounts with his steward, who oversaw holdings for him in Shropshire as well as in London. With all the happenings lately, he informed Madelene he had been neglecting his financial matters.
After supper, a week after that dreadful night, Madelene and Gabriel went to see Matthew and hear from the patient himself how his progress fared. Gabriel had not seen Matthew since the night he brought him home.
They sat in chairs at the end of Matthew’s bed as Matthew slouched in bed with a disagreeable look on his face. Smiling brightly, Madelene told her brother, “Mr. Longhorn is quite pleased with your recovery. However, he does think it will take a month or so before you’ll be well enough to endure the journey back to London.”
Gabriel added, “Matthew, consider our home, your home. There is no hurry to leave. We simply want you to be strong enough for whenever you’re ready to depart.”