The Sanctuary (A Spencer Novel)

by Sandra Lea Rice

  Anthony advanced slowly, urging Copernicus to follow. The large steed’s hooves beat a sharp tattoo on the planks as they inched forward. Fully committed, Anthony heard Jason’s shout at the same time the bridge gave a heaving lurch and a downed tree careened into the side of the wooden structure.

  The stallion screamed and reared, pulling loose from Anthony’s grip. He flung his arms up and sent the horse racing back off the bridge, praying the animal would not be hurt in his headlong rush to the stables.

  A loud snap, and the timber beneath his feet ripped apart. Anthony lunged forward, grabbing for an ancient pylon; all that remained of the bridge. Pain pierced his shoulders and arms as his muscles strained against the pull of the fast moving water. His cape filled, threatening to drag him under.

  A hand grabbed his wrist, a blade flashed, and the cape fell away, carried downstream by the rushing current. He glanced up and met Jason’s horrified gaze.

  “Don’t risk your life, Jason,” Anthony shouted. “If you start to slide, let me go.”

  “Shut up and hang on,” Jason yelled.

  Icy water swirled around him, rising to cover his head. Anthony held his breath and searched for a foothold with the toe of one boot. Something slammed into his side, knocking what remained of the air from his lungs. A hard tug on his wrist, and his head rose above the frigid torrent. Shards of pain shot through his chest as he fought to breathe.

  Soon, his legs would go numb. He would become lethargic as the freezing water drew the life from his body. Soon, he would let go.

  “Jason, tell Clairece—”

  “Tell her yourself.” Jason tightened his grip.

  “You’re a good friend. Take care of her for me.”

  “Dammit, just hang on.”

  A hand slid past Jason’s shoulder and grabbed Anthony’s other wrist. “On my count, dig your toes in and pull,” the man shouted over the roar of the river.

  Anthony felt his body slide slowly upward out of the water and over the edge of the bank, to lay flat on his belly. The other two men knelt on hands and knees, chests heaving while they gulped in air.

  Anthony turned his head and met Gerald’s gaze.

  Chapter 45

  At the sound of men’s raised voices, Clairece rushed to the foyer. Philippe stood in conversation with Hodges while a group of footmen waited nearby.

  “What’s happened?” she demanded.

  “His lordship’s horse returned without him, my lady, and there is no sign of Mr. Rutledge.”

  “Philippe?” Clairece grabbed the Spaniard’s arm.

  “We will find them, niña, and bring them home.” He fastened his cape.

  The door burst open and a footman rushed in. “Two men comin’ up the drive. They’re ridin’ double. One looks to be hurt.”

  Philippe surged through the open entry with Hodges and Farris following suit. Footmen spilled out onto the steps and stood waiting.

  Clairece spun to Mrs. Stedman. “See his lordship’s valet is notified and his bed made ready. Ask Cook to heat some bricks, should they be needed.” The housekeeper dashed to the kitchens.

  Clairece rushed forward as two footmen half carried, half-walked Anthony inside. His head hung forward, black hair plastered to his forehead. “Anthony, can you hear me?”

  Anthony lifted his head. “Beauty,” he whispered. His eyes closed, his legs buckled, and his head lolled to the side. For one frightening moment, Clairece thought he was gone.

  Farris felt for a pulse. “Carry him to his room, but be careful. He may have broken ribs.” Two additional footmen advanced, each taking a leg, bearing Anthony upstairs.

  Jason held onto the banister, his body shaking. Hodges wrapped a blanket around the man’s shoulders and eased him down onto a step.

  “What happened, señor?” Philippe urged.

  “When we left Roxbury Abbey, the sky opened up. I’ve never seen so much water. Anthony thought we’d save time by cutting across the fields. There was this bridge . . .” Jason broke off and visibly swallowed.

  “A bridge?”

  “Yes.” Jason cleared his throat. “Water was already to the horses’ knees. Anthony dismounted and had Copernicus fully on the wooden planks when a downed tree crashed into it.” Jason’s gaze met Clairece’s. “Anthony managed to save his horse before the bridge broke apart beneath his feet. At first, I thought he was gone, but he hung from a pylon.” Jason ran both hands through his wet hair, the terror he’d experienced evident on his face.

  “I grabbed his wrist and tried to pull him out. I gave it all I had, but he’s a big man.” Jason bowed his head.

  Clairece dashed away tears. “You saved him.”

  Jason shook his head. “I don’t think I could have done so alone, but Roxbury appeared. Together, we pulled Anthony out.”

  “Roxbury was there?” Philippe queried.

  “Yes. He had the deed to the Abbey with him. In our rush to leave, Anthony left it behind. Apparently, he’d watched us ride off and knew what direction we would take. I cannot say I like the bloke, but I thank God he appeared when he did. If he hadn’t . . .” Jason’s entire frame shuddered. “He was in the damned, frigid river a long time. I tried to keep his head above water, but the current kept sucking him under.”

  Hodges approached. “May I suggest a hot bath and some soup, sir?”

  Jason nodded, his teeth chattering.

  Clairece left Jason in Hodges’ care and raced upstairs. She needed to be with her husband.

  Upon entering the bedchamber, she found Anthony’s inert form barely discernible for the people surrounding the large bed. The few allowed to stay, fell silent as Farris moved the stethoscope over Anthony’s chest and sides. Anthony’s sodden clothes had been replaced with a nightshirt.

  “His lungs are surprisingly clear of fluid.” Farris removed the ear tips and let the metal tubing close around his neck. “With luck, he won’t develop pneumonia.”

  “Praise be.” Mrs. Dobbins clutched her hands together.

  Farris ran his fingers down Anthony’s sides. “Good,” he said more to himself than to the others. The doctor stepped back to allow the heated and wrapped bricks to be placed along Anthony’s body.

  Clairece took a deep breath and eased past the others to lay her hand on his forehead. “He’s so cold.”

  “The prolonged submersion in the icy water, and the ride home in wet clothing, has lowered Lord Anthony’s body temperature to a dangerous level. We must bring it back up,” Farris said, studying Anthony.

  Clairece followed Farris’ gaze. “Tell me how.”

  “The heated bricks will help, but we need to warm more than just his extremities. His chest, neck, and groin must be warmed first to avoid his going into shock.”

  Clairece thought a moment. “Can we heat towels and lay them on his chest?”

  “To maintain their heat, they would have to be changed constantly.” Farris met her gaze. “Body to body contact would be best.”

  Clairece flushed as the implication registered. She turned to Hodges. “Move the broth where I can reach it, and heat a few towels to wrap around his neck.”

  Hodges ordered the bedside table moved nearer the bed, and sent a maid for the towels.

  “I’ll be in the next room should you need anything, Lady Harding,” Farris bowed over her hand. “You understand I will need to check on my patient regularly?”

  “Yes, of course.” She refused to feel embarrassment.

  The others filed quietly from the bedchamber, leaving only Clairece’s maid to unfasten the long row of buttons down the back of her morning dress. After the maid left, Clairece shed the rest of her clothing. She slid her arms through the sleeves of her dressing gown, and circled the large four-poster bed. Raising the heavy comforter, she opened the fron
t of her robe and crawled beneath the counterpane to cover his chilled body with hers.

  Anthony muttered a soft, “Mmm.”

  Clairece pressed her belly and breasts to his torso and grasped the towels to hold them firmly in place around his neck. She snuggled closer and laid her cheek against his.

  After a few minutes, she rose up on her elbows and reached for the soup. Anthony moved his head as if searching for her. “I’m here, dearest.” Clairece caressed his cheek until he settled once more. “I’m going to feed you some of Cook’s wonderful broth and you must swallow it.”

  She spooned a little of the liquid into his mouth and watched his throat work as he swallowed. Encouraged, she repeated the action until he’d taken a good bit of the soup. She set the bowl aside and burrowed her face into the crook of his neck.

  She must have fallen asleep, for when she opened her eyes she could see only darkness through the windows. She eased up to observe Anthony’s face, brushing his hair back.

  And gaped.

  Blue eyes met hers.

  “Doctor Farris,” she shouted, rolling from atop Anthony to pull the sides of the robe together. “Come quickly.”

  The door flew open and Farris strode forward, placing the stethoscope tips in his ears as he neared the bed. He bent to his patient.

  Anthony frowned. “Do you make a habit of barging into another man’s bedchamber when he’s in bed with his wife?” he rasped.

  “Only if said wife summons me,” Farris quipped. “Now be quiet and let me listen.” He pressed the scope to Anthony’s chest and held it in place briefly, before he straightened and removed a thermometer from his black case. “Open your mouth,” he ordered.

  “Cannot say much for your bedside manner,” Anthony muttered around the piece of glass stuck under his tongue.

  Farris’ lips quirked. After a few minutes he withdrew the thermometer and studied it. “Not perfect, but much better. More warm broth and some rest and you’ll be right as rain.”

  “Don’t mention rain to me,” Anthony grumbled.

  “What should I do now?” Clairece asked.

  “I’m still a little cold,” Anthony interjected. “Perhaps she ought to lie back down for a while.”

  Farris chuckled and she felt her face flush.

  “Let’s give it a day or so. Your heartbeat has evened out, but I wouldn’t suggest stressing it.” Farris dropped the stethoscope back into his case and wrapped the thermometer in cloth, slipping it into a small compartment at one side.

  Clairece padded to the bedchamber door and opened it to find a group of servants waiting.

  “My lady?” Hodges glanced toward the bed and flashed a seldom seen smile.

  She stepped to the side. “As you can see, my husband is much better. Would it be possible to get more soup?”

  “And some bread . . . perhaps some meat, and if there’s any lemon tarts around—” Anthony began.

  “If Dr. Farris agrees, perhaps some bread and cheese?” Her gaze fell on Farris who grinned and nodded.

  “And a lemon tart?” Anthony urged from the bed.

  “And a lemon tart,” Farris agreed.

  Hodges motioned to Farris. “Mrs. Stedman has a room prepared for you, and Mr. Beetleworth has offered his services should you have need of them.”

  “A bed and some sleep sounds wonderful,” Farris agreed, stifling a yawn.

  Hodges bowed. “Yes, my lord.”

  “Just Doctor, Hodges. I don’t use my title.”

  “As you wish.” Hodges signaled a waiting footman. “Please see Doctor Farris to his room.” Hodges glanced at Farris. “Perhaps a small libation?”

  “A bit of brandy would be most welcome.” Farris bent to retrieve his black bag and nodded toward Anthony. “I’ll check in on you later.”

  Anthony jerked the towel from around his neck and began to tug at the nightshirt. “What in bloody hell am I wearing?”

  “A nightshirt, my lord,” Hodges said. “We thought you might wish it since you had a room full of people.”

  Anthony glared at the offending garment.

  “Would you like Hodges to help you to the water closet?” Clairece queried.

  “I can manage on my own,” Anthony sputtered. “I’ve been proficient at that particular task since I was three years old.”

  “Is he always this irritable when he doesn’t feel well?” she asked Hodges.

  “He can be much worse, my lady.”

  “I’m still in the room, you know,” Anthony grumbled, attempting to rise. His body tilted precariously to one side. Hodges swooped, sliding an arm around Anthony’s waist to help him to his feet.

  “Lean on me, my lord. It will be our little secret.”

  Anthony let loose a string of expletives, rendering Clairece speechless.

  “As you say, my lord, but perhaps it’s best left unvoiced until your lady wife is not present?”

  Flushing at the gentle rebuke, he let Hodges walk him into the adjoining water closet.

  Clairece could only speculate—and be thankful for—the relationship between the two.

  Chapter 46

  Clairece woke as a warm little body snuggled in between Anthony and her, and a much larger one, smelling of dog, landed on the foot of the bed.

  Tiny fingers played at her lashes. Clairece opened her eyes wide and laid a finger against her lips.

  “Is Papa dead?” Sophie whispered, her bottom lip trembling.

  “No, sweetheart, he’s sleeping.”

  “I heard Nanny Jinks tell one of the maids Papa might die.”

  “She was mistaken.” Clairece brushed Sophie’s riotous curls behind her ears. “Your father had an accident, but he is brave and strong and will be up and around before you know it. Come, sweetheart, I’ll walk you back to the nursery.”

  Later, Clairece entered the bathing chamber to find Anthony dressed and attempting to shave.

  “You’re up.” She stated the obvious.

  “Sophie is to join the adults for breakfast this morning. I want to be there to greet her.”

  Clairece pulled the cord to summon her maid. “I’ll meet you downstairs.” Since Anthony’s aunts’ preferred their hot chocolate and toast in their rooms of a morning, she would be the one to teach Sophie how to comport herself around adults.

  During breakfast, the capricious Sophie chatted with the gentlemen placed on either side of her, carrying on an amazingly adult conversation with Jason. Much to Clairece’s chagrin, Sophie also possessed a distinct ability to flirt, outrageously plying her charms on Dr. Farris who sat directly across from the little minx.

  Farris winked.

  Sophie giggled and winked back.

  Anthony would have his hands full when his daughter came of age. From the expression on his face, he realized it as well.

  With Jeremy Stallings, Sophie remained somewhat aloof. The man’s sheer size would intimidate most children, though Sophie showed not the first sign of fear around him.

  Sophie’s reaction to Don Philippe both surprised and confused Clairece. The imp sent little covert glances in his direction, but made no attempt to engage Philippe in conversation.

  Then she placed the remaining berry tart on her napkin and scooted off her chair, moving carefully around the table to stand at Philippe’s side.

  “It’s the last one.” She held the offering out to Philippe. “Raspberry is my favorite.”

  “Mine also, niña.” Philippe accepted the proffered gift, napkin and all, and placed it on the table between them. “Perhaps we could share?”

  Sophie nodded, showing every indication of climbing up on Philippe’s lap. Clairece started to raise her hand, but was stopped with an almost imperceptible shake of his head. Clairece settled back as Phil
ippe lifted Sophie onto his knee.

  “Would you care to cut the pastry in half?” Philippe asked.

  “You should do it. Nanny Jinks says I always make a mess.” Sophie dropped her gaze to her hands.

  Clairece made a mental note to speak to Nanny Jinks.

  “We are all a little messy at first, niña, until we have learned the proper way to do something.” Philippe retrieved his knife and laid it in the little girl’s palm. He covered her hand with his. “The secret is to go slowly. It will not take flight if you do.”

  Sophie giggled.

  Philippe accepted his piece of the tartlet and took a bite. “It is truly delicious. Gracias.”

  The child beamed.

  A footman crossed the room to speak in hushed tones to Hodges. The butler sent the footman away and stated, “My lord, it appears a large traveling coach, followed by two smaller conveyances and a succession of vehicles loaded with trunks and boxes, approaches the Hall. The largest of the coaches bears the Windsford crest.”

  Chapter 47

  Squealing joyfully, Clairece sprang to her feet. “They’re here, my parents are here.”

  “More like the whole clan, from the sound of it.” Anthony grinned, gaining his feet. “Shall we go and meet them?”

  With Anthony and Clairece leading the way, they all filed out onto the front steps.

  Clairece gripped Anthony’s hand and whispered, “My family does not know we’re married.”

  He squeezed back. “Let us hope they consider it a happy surprise.”

  A window in the lead carriage lowered and the head and shoulders of a woman appeared, arm gesturing madly.

  “Mother,” Clairece screeched, waving frantically.

  Anthony flinched and rubbed his ear. “You need to warn me, love, before you do that.”