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The Sanctuary (A Spencer Novel)

Page 7

by Sandra Lea Rice


  “I gave instructions to your butler. Now, I must wash my hands and, if you gentlemen will step out of the room, see to my patient.”

  The maid led Farris to the connecting chamber. Within moments he’d returned, drying his hands on a clean towel. After handing the flannel to the maid, he began to examine Clairece, everyone else all but forgotten.

  “What are you thinking?” Phillip asked, once they reached the study.

  “It was no accident, not with both Clairece and the mare wounded.” Anthony dropped into a chair. “But I do believe someone wanted it to appear like one.”

  Phillip began pacing. “Why would someone do such a thing?”

  Anthony could understand his frustration, but Phillip had no idea what Clairece’s true purpose was for being in England. Someone did, and that someone wanted her stopped.

  After what seemed an eternity, Dr. Farris stood at the door and peered in. “She’s received a nasty blow to the side of her head. A little more to the left and it could have killed her. Did she take a fall?”

  “No,” Anthony stated. “Why?”

  Farris frowned. “I found traces of dirt in the wound.”

  “In your opinion, could the blow have been caused by a small rock, the kind normally used in a slingshot?”

  Both James and Phillip gaped at Anthony as he made the query.

  “The contusion is the right size.” Dr. Ferris’ eyes narrowed. “If you’re suggesting what I think you are, would you like me to send a constable around?”

  Anthony shook his head. “We would prefer to handle this ourselves.”

  “I’m aware of your connection with Scotland Yard, Harding, so I’ll leave it up to you. Summon me should you require my assistance in any way.”

  “Is Mrs. Griffin awake?” Anthony asked.

  “Not yet, but she should come around soon.” Farris snapped his black case shut. “She’ll have a devil of a headache when she does.”

  James stepped forward. “Is there anything we can do for her?”

  “Just rest and quiet for a few days should be all that’s needed. I’ve left a tisane laced with a touch of laudanum on the bedside table for the pain.”

  “Can she be moved?” James asked.

  Farris shot a sideways glance at Anthony. “I would advise against it.” He hesitated. “A nurse has recently come available. I’ll send her over if you’d like.”

  “Thank you,” James replied, clearly unhappy with the situation.

  “Hodges will see you out.” Anthony nodded toward his loyal retainer, who bowed and led the way out of the study, closing the door behind Farris.

  Anthony indicated James and Phillip should sit before he stepped behind his desk.

  “I suggest we keep this among ourselves. Only a few people were aware Clairece was even in England. That should narrow our list of suspects and make it easier to find whoever’s responsible.”

  “Outside of us, who would know?” Phillip sank into a nearby chair.

  “The servants at both houses, at least,” Anthony supplied. “I realize you’re not comfortable with her staying in my home. However, you must admit Inniswood is the last place someone would look.”

  James sighed. “I can see the reasoning in what you say, but Ree is still under my protection. We must also consider her reputation.”

  “You’re both welcome to reside here if it would make the situation more palatable,” Anthony offered.

  James shook his head. “A nurse in attendance should suffice. As you say, the most important thing is Ree’s safety. What can I do?”

  Anthony lowered his voice. “Dispatch a footman to her home. Tell them she’s staying with you for a short while and have a few items packed. Make certain the man remains in plain sight and is wearing your livery. Take the clothing directly to your home in the event someone is watching. I’ll send a maid to Bond Street to purchase whatever she’ll need.” He pulled a fob watch from his waistcoat pocket and flipped the lid open. “We can discuss the situation further over dinner.”

  Phillip rubbed his hands together. “What a capital idea. We’ll make plans to capture the blackguard.” His eyes sparkled with youthful exuberance.

  “Capital idea or not, you’re due back at Oxford in a week. I’m not telling your father you’ve missed a session,” James retorted, making stern eye contact with Phillip.

  “He’d want us to see this through,” Phillip argued. “It’s family first.”

  “Which is precisely why I’m going to notify Uncle Adrian.”

  Anthony respected James’ high regard for Adrian Spencer, but the man was in America, for God’s sake.

  As if reading his mind, James glanced at Anthony. “Adrian is the implicit head of this family and, as such, he will want to be informed. Heaven help the person who runs afoul of him if he believes one of us is being threatened.”

  “And there’s my grandfather.” Phillip gave a theatrical shudder.

  Anthony grinned. “It would seem we have things to discuss over dinner.”

  Later in the evening, Anthony moved through the darkened room toward the bed and Clairece’s slender form huddled beneath a quilt. He sat on the edge of the mattress and took her hand, dainty and pale against his larger, sun-bronzed fingers.

  “I am so sorry, sweetheart. I should have protected you better. You need to wake up now, and let me see your beautiful eyes.” Anthony brushed his lips across the back of her fingers.

  And felt them tighten around his.

  Chapter 11

  As Clairece’s lashes fluttered and lifted, Anthony murmured, “Hello, sweetheart. Are you thirsty?” At her slight nod, he slipped an arm beneath her shoulders and held a glass of water to her lips. After a few swallows, he eased her back against the pillows.

  “Did I fall?”

  “Almost, sweet, almost. Does your head hurt?”

  “Dreadfully.” Her hand went to the plaster at her temple.

  “The doctor left something for pain.” Without waiting, he tipped a little into her mouth.

  She wrinkled her nose. “That’s vile.”

  “It’s supposed to be,” he grinned.

  Clairece glanced down at her clothing and her gaping bodice and began to work one of the small ivory buttons through its fastener.

  Anthony moved her hands aside. “Let me.”

  She looked around. “Where am I?”

  “In my bed at Inniswood Place.”

  She huffed out a small laugh. “All you had to do was ask.”

  Relieved she could joke with him, he chuckled. “Be advised, as soon as you’re able, I will ask.”

  He drew the comforter up to her chin and extracted the remaining pins from her hair, using his fingers to gently work the tangles from the long tresses. Her eyes began to droop.

  “The first time I saw you, I was reminded of a Christmas ornament. A fragile, exquisite angel. Now, seeing your hair spread upon my pillow like a thick veil of silver and pale gold, I am even more convinced you are a creation of spun-glass, one created by a master’s hand to seduce me and render me witless.” He leaned in toward her.

  At a light clearing of a throat, Anthony jerked back.

  “There is a Mrs. Philomena Dobbins to see you, my lord,” Hodges intoned. “She said Dr. Farris sent her.”

  Anthony stood. “Yes, of course. Show her up and have hot water and towels brought in.” He straightened his waistcoat and cuffs. “And Hodges, please see the blue bedchamber is made ready for Mrs. Griffin.”

  “Certainly, my lord.”

  After Hodges withdrew, Anthony stepped closer to Clairece’s bedside. “In case you’re wondering, Mrs. Dobbins is a nurse and will also act as your companion.”

  Clairece’s forehead creased. “I don’t require either.�
�� Her speech held a slight slur.

  “Humor me and let her stay for a few days.”

  At the sound of hurried footsteps, Anthony retreated to avoid colliding with the woman—he guessed to be nearing sixty or so—who swept past on her way to Clairece. Meticulous in appearance, every strand of gray hair was tucked securely beneath a white cap. Her serviceable wool dress was clean and pressed as was the white apron tied around her ample waist. Obviously this would be Mrs. Dobbins.

  A maid, carrying fresh towels, hovered in the woman’s wake, as did two large footmen lugging buckets of water.

  “Don’t just stand there, bring those things in,” Mrs. Dobbins ordered. His staff rushed forward, nearly tripping over each other in their haste to do her bidding.

  One of Anthony’s younger maids bobbed a curtsy. “Sally asked me to fetch this until such time as she gets her shoppin’ done.” She laid a white cotton nightgown over the foot of the bed and sent an uncertain glance at Mrs. Dobbins before she fled the room behind the two retreating footmen.

  Anthony eyed the nurse as she patted Clairece’s hand.

  “My poor little dear. Doctor Farris said you needed me so I came right on over. Now don’t you fret ‘bout a thing. Dobby will take good care of you.” She turned and acknowledged Anthony’s presence with a short bob. “Lord Harding?”

  He barely had time to nod before ‘Dobby’ continued. “No need to worry about your lady. Run along and do whatever men do and I’ll make her nice and comfortable.” The nurse waved him away with a flick of her wrist.

  And, without so much as a by-your-leave, Anthony found himself summarily dismissed from his own bedchamber.

  After dinner, Anthony, James, and Phillip moved to the library to relax before a fire. Crystal decanters filled with a selection of various libations covered the top of a small tantalus.

  “Do you think the nurse will let us see her?” Phillip asked somewhat doubtfully. “It’s getting late and we’ve been waiting for some time.”

  “If it’s much longer, I’ll send a maid to inquire.” Anthony, sprawled in a large chair, sipped his port.

  A noise at the door drew their attention. Hodges—his usual stoic expression giving way to red splotches—huffed, “My lord, Mrs. Dobbins has finally deemed it acceptable for you to see Mrs. Griffin.”

  “Uh, thank you, Hodges.” Anthony turned to find both James and Phillip staring after the butler’s retreating back. “Shall we go, gentlemen?”

  Clairece sat propped up in bed with several large pillows behind her back. She offered an encouraging, if somewhat sleepy, smile as they ambled in. Her plaited hair hung over one shoulder in a long, silken rope.

  Mrs. Dobbins sat ramrod straight in a chair near the fire, one eye on Clairece and the other on her patient’s visitors.

  Although Anthony crossed to the window to allow James and Phillip time with Clairece, his attention remained fixed on the woman lying in his bed.

  “How are you feeling, Ree?” James kissed her temple.

  “My head hurts, but otherwise I’m well. Apparently, I’m not allowed out of bed for a couple of days which I find vexing. But Dobby is taking excellent care of me.”

  All three men turned toward Mrs. Dobbins to find her beaming back at Clairece.

  After a sparse few minutes, the nurse rose from the chair. “Not too long tonight, my good lads. Best you run along so she can get her rest. You can come ‘round tomorrow.”

  Both Phillip and James gaped at Mrs. Dobbins while Anthony, clasping his hands behind him, watched their reflections in the darkened window. He peered over his shoulder to find Phillip and James had edged their way toward the door, an identical look of astonishment on their faces.

  Mrs. Dobbins lifted a brow at Anthony.

  “I’ll see you out.” Anthony hastily skirted the foot of the bed, exiting the room.

  “Good Lord, Tony. I’d be off to Bedlam within a day,” James mumbled.

  “She reminds me of my old nurse. Hadn’t thought to feel the hair rise on the back of my neck in such a way again,” Phillip added.

  In the entry hall, a waiting footman handed James and Phillip their coats and hats.

  “What are your plans, Tony?” James asked, drawing on his gloves.

  “Tomorrow, I’ll stop at Scotland Yard to see if anything untoward has happened in the last few days. I also want a bit of time to speak privately with Clairece. Perhaps she can think of something we’ve missed.”

  “It’s Clairece now, is it?” Phillip scowled as he buttoned his coat.

  “If you have something to say, say it,” Anthony gritted out. “If you’re going to accuse me of something, do so, and be done with all this carping. There are more important things to worry about than my use of her given name.”

  James raised a hand. “We’re all a little on edge. I suggest we call it a day.”

  Anthony signaled his footman to open the heavy front door. “I’ll catch up with you tomorrow afternoon at White’s.”

  After seeing the two out, Anthony returned to his library. The more time he spent with Clairece, the more he wanted her. Not just intimately, although lust played a large part in the attraction. It was the woman herself; her laughter, her intelligence, her lively sense of humor. Even her loyalty to a dead man spoke volumes about her.

  He sank into a chair near the fire and leaned his head back. There had to be something she knew or had seen to provoke an attempt on her life. With growing certainty, he believed someone had tried to do away with Clairece.

  It couldn’t be just her appearance in England, and he doubted it was her contact with whatever sources she had. He’d missed something. To find out, he needed to talk to Clairece without interruption by an overzealous nurse.

  A furry head pushed beneath his hand. Anthony ruffled the wiry coat affectionately. “We have company, lad. You’ll need to have a care with her.” The dog dropped his chin on Anthony’s knee and gazed up at him, tail wagging.

  “Want a short outing before bed, do you? I could deal with some fresh air myself. Come along and I’ll get my coat.”

  Anthony strolled down the stairs to the kitchen where he kept a heavy tweed jacket and cap for this purpose.

  Caesar bounded through the open kitchen door, headed toward the side gardens. Abruptly, the canine’s head lowered. An ominous growl rumbled in the dog’s throat as he focused on the back gate leading to the mews and stables.

  “What is it, lad?” Anthony scanned the perimeter. He caught a furtive movement before a dark figure disappeared through the opening. Anthony broke into a run with Caesar bounding alongside, to find the mews empty and the man nowhere in sight.

  Although it could have been a thief, the number of servants on duty would surely have acted as a deterrent. There was only one reason for someone to watch his home. Anthony found his gaze drawn toward a lighted second-story window.

  Clairece.

  Chapter 12

  Clairece’s appreciative gaze encompassed the beautifully appointed room, one obviously decorated with a woman in mind. Pale wainscoting covered the bottom half of the walls, while blue-and-cream, hand-painted silk filled the space above.

  The Chippendale bedstead portrayed flowers with tiny birds perched among the branches. A counterpane in shades of cream, blue, and touches of magenta concealed the pristine sheets and thick mattress. Pillows, in varying shades of fuchsia, magenta, and purple, lay propped against the headboard.

  Clairece eased her legs over the side of the bed and stood, mindful of the throbbing ache in her head. Sensing someone’s presence, she swung her gaze to Anthony leaning against the doorjamb. The action brought on pain. With a moan, she clutched her head in both hands and closed her eyes.

  Anthony’s palms settled on her shoulders. “Easy. I didn’t mean to startle you. The rooms are c
onnected by a bathing chamber.” He released her and reached for the tisane.

  “No. I won’t take it.”

  He raised a brow. “It will help with the discomfort.”

  “It makes me nauseous.”

  “As you wish, then.” He moved to the windows and pulled the heavy draperies closed.

  “Must we shut them? It’s such a lovely night.”

  “I’m afraid so.” As he extended an arm toward the chaise longue by the hearth, a large dog rushed through the door and bounded toward her.

  “Caesar, no,” Anthony commanded, grabbing for the animal as he sailed past on his way to Clairece.

  She opened her arms to the wolfhound and crooned softly, gently ruffling the dog’s coat. The hound gave a doggy moan, rolled to his back, and offered his belly for her attention.

  Anthony chuckled. “Show a little dignity, lad.”

  “He’s wonderful.” Clairece knelt to rub his chest. “Did you call him Caesar?”

  “Yes, and he’ll be impossible if you don’t stop. Here, give me your hand.” Anthony reached down and brought her to her feet.

  Clairece gasped as a shaft of pain shot through her head. His arm came around her. “Willow bark tea will help and shouldn’t make you ill.”

  She caught the scent of sandalwood and bergamot mixed with clean linen and fresh night air. Clad only in shirtsleeves and trousers, his hair mussed from the winter wind, Anthony proved irresistible and she questioned the advisability of being alone with him in such surroundings. She trusted him but not herself, not even a little.

  The dog padded off to lie on the floor near the hearth, dropping his head on his paws. Anthony tugged on the bell pull, which brought a scurrying maid. Within minutes, the tea arrived. He took the tray from the surprised servant and settled on a seat beside Clairece, handing her a cup.

 

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