She took his hand in hers, and together they sat in silent vigil through the night.
Eight hours later, Geoffrey lay unconscious still, his body trembling from top to toe as if he had an ague. His breathing was shallow, his arms and legs restlessly twitching.
Richard peeled back the linen to examine the wound. It showed no signs of putrefaction, no increasing redness or heat. Nothing to explain the moisture on his flushed cheeks.
"He is not feverish," Leah said, smoothing her palm over Geoffrey's brow. "Do you think he has taken an infection?"
"No," Richard said. He closed his eyes, rubbed his fingertips over his temples. "It is the drink. Not only is he fighting the infection, he is fighting his addiction to the drink."
"Have you seen this before?"
"Several times, my love. In the army."
Self-disgust clawed his gut, but he closed his mind to what should have been. He needed his thoughts centered on the here and now. He drew her into his arms. Her eyes were clear and bright as she gazed at him, though shadows darkened the skin beneath her lashes and lines of fatigue framed her lips, another spike of guilt to shred his already decimated soul.
Still he did not release her.
His only comfort through this nightmare came from her quiet strength, her unwavering support, and the certain knowledge that Alison was safely tucked away in her rooms.
"Water," Geoffrey croaked.
Richard lifted his brother's shoulders while Leah held a glass to his mouth. His lips and tongue trembled so fiercely, the liquid dribbled down his chin. Leah grabbed a spoon from the bedside table and trickled the water into Geoffrey's mouth.
With painstaking patience, she waited for him to swallow, then repeated the process until he pinched his lips together.
Richard ran his hands over his face. His night growth of beard scratched his palms. Hours passed. Day melted into night.
Then day again. Time blended and blurred as Geoffrey drifted in and out of awareness. At times he seemed almost lucid, then frantic and incoherent. He ranted and raved.
He demanded a drink, then he begged and he pleaded.
They dosed him with laudanum to ease his distress.
"If he doesn't stop thrashing about like that," Richard finally said on what he thought was the third day, "he will damage his injured shoulder. We have to tie him down."
Leah shredded a cotton bed sheet into strips, then handed them to Richard to lash Geoffrey's arms and legs to the bedposts.
She slipped her arms around Richard's waist, leaned her forehead into his shoulder. Legs trembling nearly as violently as Geoffrey's, Richard pulled her so firmly against his chest, he could feel her heart beating through her skin, warm and strong and alive. He buried his lips against her neck, his eyes burning with what he suspected were tears, but he blamed on fatigue.
"Let me go," Geoffrey screamed. "Untie me, you filthy savages, or my brother will kill you"
"Where does he think he is?"
Richard rubbed his fingers over his aching eyes. "As a young man, my grandfather traveled extensively in the colonies. On the rare occasions that he bothered with us at all, he used to fill our heads with stories of bloodthirsty savages. As a child, Geoffrey's favorite game was to playact those stories."
I see" Leah stroked the back of her hand over Geoffrey's cheek. "You are merely dreaming, my lord. Richard and I are here with you"
"My legs!" Geoffrey screamed. He heaved against the restraints. "My legs are afire. Richard, help me . . "
Richard forced his brother to swallow some tea laced with laudanum. After a few minutes, the drug took effect and Geoffrey slipped into a fitful slumber. Richard turned to Leah. She had yet to leave Geoffrey's side, save to eat or bathe or check on Alison. Her skin was ashen, her eyes pale hollows in her cheeks, and still, she was so beautiful, she made his heart ache, made his throat clench. "You need sleep."
She shook her head. "I would not leave "
"I insist, Leah. You look ragged and weary unto death. I will not have you sicken again. You must rest."
"What a dreadful fright I must be," she said, a weary grin on her lips, a teasing sparkle creeping into her green eyes. She smoothed her hands over her hair, clenched in a tight knot at the base of her neck. "We both need rest if we are to be of use to your brother. Perhaps we could sleep in shifts?"
"Good idea. You take the first sleep."
She stared at Geoffrey for such a long moment, Richard thought she would argue. But when she turned to him, she simply nodded. With a gentle reminder to call her if Geoffrey awakened, she went up on tiptoe and kissed him. As she stepped back, he seized her wrist, hauled her against his chest, buried his face in her neck. The warmth of her body seeped through his bones, a soothing balm to the raw agony slowly destroying him.
"I love you," she said, leaning back to look in his eyes.
He covered her lips with his. He devoured her words, tasted her breath. He needed her, now more than ever, but she needed to rest. He forced himself to release her. "Go. Sleep. I will call you should he awaken" He turned his head, kissed her palm.
She hesitated a moment, then nodded and left the room.
Richard dropped onto the chair beside the bed. He wanted to murmur soothing reassurances, but his throat was so tight, he could scarcely breathe, let alone speak.
Instead, he clutched his brother's hand in his fist, holding him fast against the demons torturing him.
Geoffrey opened his eyes and stared straight at him.
For a moment, his gaze appeared clear, as if he were lucid, then his mind's aimless ramblings began. "Eric, take care ... never meant to tell ... Richard, where are you .. .-
He rocked his head on the pillow. His cheeks were warm and flushed. "Told Jamison and look what happened. Richard, I'm sorry, so sorry. . ."
From the moment Geoffrey had started raving, Richard had feared what his brother might say, what Leah might hear. He tried to reassure himself that it wouldn't matter if she heard Geoffrey's words. They were disjointed. Disconnected.
Without context, she would not understand their meaning.
But he didn't believe it, and it filled him with dread.
"Richard, where are you?"
"I'm here, Geoffrey. I am here" He draped a cloth soaked in extract of henbane over his brother's forehead. He was so steeped in regret and self-reproach, he didn't hear her approach. He had no idea she was in the room until the scent of lavender water attacked his nose and she placed her palm on his shoulder.
He pushed her hand away, then stood so she would not be tempted to touch him again. "What do you want, Rachel?"
"To see how my dear brother is faring, of course"
As if she cared. No, she was here to see how she could best twist this tragedy to her advantage.
She wore a delicate peach morning gown that brought out the natural blush in her cheeks. Her eyes were clear and bright and free of fatigue. Obviously she wasn't losing any sleep.
"I do not understand your anger toward me, Richard. Truly, I don't. If, as you say, the past is dead and buried, why can you not at least be civil to me? Or can it be .. " She placed her hand over his, stroked her fingertips up and down his arm. "That you are lying. That you love me still, as I love you"
Richard grunted. "Hardly, madam. The sight of you sickens me until I must search for a chamber pot or cast up my accounts where I stand. The sound of your voice leaves me praying for deafness, and your touch makes my skin crawl. Now, remove your hand from my arm or I will remove it for you"
"Is it crawling with distaste? Or are those shivers of desire you would try to deny?"
He glared at her until she lifted her hand. "This is hardly the time or place for this discussion. I do not want Geoffrey distressed any more than he needs be from his illness."
"Are you suggesting my presence might distress him? I have never been anything but kindness itself to Geoffrey."
Richard snorted. "Do you honestly believe everyone around you sees you a
s an angel come to delight us with your ethereal presence? Geoffrey saw the way you treated Eric, with your taunts and your torments. He blames you for Eric's death. As do L"
Her eyes flashed with anger and something else, something darker that Richard could not discern.
"You are both wrong," she said. "I did not force that bottle to his lips. Nor did I heave him atop his horse and send him racing pell-mell into the night."
"You made his life unbearable. He drank to escape you!"
"And what of you, oh-holier-than-thou! Do you think yourself blameless in all this?"
"I know the role I played." Richard strode to the windows. He glanced out at the horizon, at the clouds dotting the night sky, at the carriages crowding the distant street as society rushed from one soiree to the next. "And I live with the guilt of it every day of my life."
"I heard Geoffrey's words when I came in," Rachel said, coming to stand before him, gazing up at him with a malicious gleam in her eyes. "I know why you married the chit. You did it to protect Alison. How admirable! How noble! How supremely fitting! I only wonder, what your wife will say when she learns the truth? Will her eyes still shine with love and adoration as they do now? Or will hatred burn in her gaze?"
"If you tell her," Richard said through his teeth, his back tightening, icy fury turning his skin cold, his hair damp. "I swear on everything holy, I will kill you!"
She smiled up at him from beneath her lashes, a demure, seductive smile, as if she had not heard the deadly menace in his voice. "Now, Richard, is that any way to talk to the mother of your only child?"
Chapter Twenty-Two
Leah hadn't meant to sleep, had meant only to rest for a few moments, but the next time she opened her eyes, twelve hours had passed. Silently cursing her weakness, she threw on her clothes and scurried down the hall. By the time she returned to Geoffrey's room, he appeared to be resting peacefully.
She wished she could say the same for Richard, whose long legs were curled up over the arms of his chair, his black hair a stark contrast to the red brocade upholstery and the afternoon sun lighting the room. Though covered with a soft growth of beard, his cheekbones appeared more pronounced and his jaw was rigid and clenched. His head hung to the side at such an odd angle, she thought surely he would awaken with a stiff neck.
Still, for the first time since this nightmare began, he was sleeping, and she would not disturb him, even though all she wanted was to draw him into her arms and offer him the comfort he would never seek. He was so strong, so brave for everyone around him, yet he seemed to think he should suffer alone.
Never had she witnessed such depth of emotion, the love of a brother for a brother. Her father's example of familial de votion had always been sadly lacking. She dabbed at the corner of her eyes, surprised when her fingertips came away damp.
Sometime during the night, Richard had released the bindings securing Geoffrey's arms and legs. She placed her hand against Geoffrey's cheek. His skin was cool and dry. His eyes, as they opened and met her gaze, appeared clear, free of confusion and pain. She smiled. "Would you like some water?"
He tried to speak, but only a rasping grunt emerged. He nodded, the motion making him wince and his lips curl, as if his stomach were churning.
She held a glass to his mouth. "Drink it slowly. And do not mind the taste. It has laudanum in it to ease your pain."
"Enough," he sputtered. "What happened? Have I been ill?"
Her hand trembled as she returned the glass to the bedside table. She chewed on her lower lip. How much should she tell him? "Well ... you returned home several days ago, quite late at night. Do you remember any of this?"
The muscles in his throat tightened. "Vaguely. Go on"
"You were ... distressed. It seems you lost quite a bit of money and-"
"I remember," he said, his voice a breathless whisper. His right hand crept up his chest, traced the bandage wrapped round his left shoulder. His gaze searched the room until he found Richard. He let out a strangled moan. His eyes closed, his lips tightened. "God, he will never forgive me"
"Do not talk nonsense," Leah chided gently, her own breath raw in her throat. She drew his hand away from his wound, tucked the bedding up to his neck. "You have given us all a tremendous fright, but Richard most of all. He is consumed with guilt that you did not trust him enough to confide in him. Do not hurt him further by distrusting his love for you"
Geoffrey pressed his knuckles against his eyes, but it did not stop the tears from leaking down his cheeks. "I know you are right, but the world seemed so bleak. It seems bleaker still."
"Hush," Leah said, her throat growing tighter with each breath she drew. "There will be time enough for worries when you are strong again. But first, you must rest and heal."
"Geoffrey," Richard said as he surged from his chair. His smile was a rigid clenching of his teeth and his eyes blinked rapidly. He fell to his knees beside the bed, seized his brother's hand in a grip so tight, Geoffrey winced.
Leah rose and tip-toed from the room, leaving the two brothers alone to shed their tears.
Richard rubbed his hands over his eyes. A mountain of paperwork covered his desk. Bank books and deeds. Contracts and mortgages. Ledgers and other statements of his personal wealth.
He shuffled through the documents, trying to decide what to keep and what to liquidate to cover Geoffrey's monstrous debt.
The entailed properties couldn't be touched, nor could he alter the provisions of his marriage contract or funds in trust for Alison's dowry. Rachel's jointure also remained untouchable.
With a sigh of disgust, he shoved the papers away.
How was he supposed to concentrate on finances when all he could think of was Leah? Restless energy sent him prowling the room. He rubbed one palm over the back of his neck, the muscles stiff and aching from barely suppressed tension.
Over the last seven days, Geoffrey's condition had continued to improve. His wound showed no signs of infection and his body was slowly adjusting to the lack of alcohol.
Still, Richard had hovered by his side.
When he had left the sickroom, he'd secluded himself with Alison, easing the child's fears over her uncle's illness. Or he had pleaded fatigue and retired to his chambers. Alone.
Like the worst of cowards running from a battlefield, he was avoiding his wife, and he knew it, but he could not face her.
Not with his emotions so raw and revealed.
All through Geoffrey's delirium, Richard had feared what his brother might say, what Leah might hear. The only time Geoffrey had ranted about the past, Leah had been absent from the room. It had seemed as if God had finally answered his prayers.
But Rachel had learned the true basis behind Richard's hasty wedding. That woman was so perverse, she truly believed Richard would one day forgive her and welcome her back into his bed.
Now it was only a matter of time before she found some means to destroy him, to destroy Leah, even as she destroyed her own daughter, a child Richard loved more than he loved his own life.
A child sired upon his brother's wife.
Good Lord, it sounded ugly, even to him. He could only imagine the malicious glee with which society would feast upon the scandal. At the moment, Alison was too young to understand, but one day soon, his beautiful child would learn the truth.
As would his wife. His sweet, trusting, innocent wife.
A greater fear than he had ever known sucked the breath from his lungs, turned his skin cold, made his arms shake.
Too late he had recognized his peril.
He was falling in love with his wife.
No, he thought savagely. He had recognized his danger early enough, but he had failed to heed his own warnings.
How had she become so important to him so fast? Why had he allowed her into his heart when he had vowed never to love again?
He should have guarded against her. He'd meant to, but he'd failed. He had admired her courage from the start when she had stormed his home and threw
his marriage offer in his face. Again when she braved the hatred of the ton for his sake, and when she refused to cower under his edict forbidding her to go to the foundling home. Although she grieved for her lost sister, she refused to allow her despair to overwhelm her. Instead, she launched a one-woman mission to save the children of England.
Now it was only a matter of time until she learned the vile truth, only a matter of time until the admiration that burned in her gaze turned to disgust, then from disgust to hate.
Not that Richard could blame her.
How could she possibly understand that he slept with his brother's wife-sired a child upon his brother's wife when he couldn't understand it himself? How could she ever forgive him when he could never forgive himself?
Richard knew that he would lose her, and he didn't think he would survive. He had to protect himself. He had to put some distance between them. Now. Before he came to depend upon her love. Then it wouldn't hurt so much when she turned away from him in disgust. It wasn't too late to save himself.
He ran his hand through his hair and stiffened his resolve.
He had no choice! He had to defend himself.
A rap sounded on the library door. Harris appeared in the entry, started to speak, but a loud voice interrupted him.
"No need to announce me, old man. I know my way in."
Pierce, Viscount Greydon, strode into the room. He tossed his riding crop and gloves onto the nearest chair, then stripped off his beaver hat, releasing a riot of sandy hair lightened by the sun. "Heigh-ho, Richard. Why are you toiling away on such a fine day?"
Richard managed a smile, even though his lips felt numb and his ribs ached, as if his heart were being carved from his chest. "It is about time you showed your face in Town. I began to think you preferred the rusticating life."
"Me?" Pierce said, a rakish smile lifting one corner of his lips. His teeth gleamed against the deep bronze of his face. "Never! I was delayed for a few days at the White Hart by a lame horse and a buxom blonde. You know me, Richard. Never one to turn a blind eye to a damsel with overripe melons, fit for the feasting and willing to share"
A Dangerous Man Page 21