AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“She believes Robin caught diphtheria from one of the dogs,” Elizabeth amplified. “The boys had gone out to catch rabbits, and they had the dogs with them. No one knows what the dogs got into, but Rolf—he was only a puppy then—came back covered with muck and stinking. Still, two women in the village caught it, too, and they weren’t with our dogs.”
“And none of the other boys got it, though they were with Robin,” said her sister. “It doesn’t make sense.”
“No one is exactly sure how one contracts the disease,” Lydia said. “They don’t understand why sometimes it will devastate an entire town, and other times it attacks only a handful of people. Even then, one cannot predict who’ll have a mild case and who’ll have a fatal one. It’s dreadfully unfair,” she added gently.
“At least he went quickly,” Elizabeth said. “It was all over in two days. He was unconscious for nearly all the time. The nurse said he felt little, if anything. He was too weak even to feel afraid.”
Vere had turned away and moved to the window. Dusk was settling in. That much he could make out through the mist clouding his vision.
“I know he wasn’t afraid at the end,” he heard the older girl’s voice behind him. “Because Cousin Vere was with him.”
“Everyone else was terrified,” Emily said. “The doctor said Aunt Dorothea must keep away, because she might get sick, and even if she lived, the baby she was nursing could get it and die. And Uncle John must stay away, too, because he could give it to her. They wouldn’t let us go to Robin.”
“They were trying to protect you, as they tried to protect all their children,” Lydia said.
“I know, but it was very hard,” Elizabeth said.
“But then Cousin Vere came,” her sister chimed in, “and he wasn’t afraid of anything. No one could keep him out—though they tried. He went in and stayed with Robin, just as he stayed with Papa. He held Papa’s hand. He never left him, even for a minute—and it was the same with Robin.”
“Cousin Vere won’t tell you,” said Elizabeth. “He’s pretending he doesn’t hear. That’s what he did when we tried to thank him.”
“I hear you,” Vere said, dragging the words from his seared throat. He turned away from the window, saw three pairs of ominously bright eyes fixed upon him.
“Gad, what a bother you make,” he said. “I loved the lad. What else should I do but stand vigil at his deathbed? What in blazes had I to lose?” He advanced to glower down at the young faces lifted toward his. “Why must you make me out to be a hero? It’s sick-making, is what it is. You’ll make Grenville cast up her accounts. Now, she,” he added, nodding toward her, “is a true hero. She raced to your rescue though she didn’t know you from Adam, and had everything to live for—on account of being married to me. She saved your evil little lives, and instead of thanking her and promising to be good girls from now on, you must maunder on about what I did ages ago.”
This ungracious speech had the desired bracing effect. The tears were blinked and brushed away, and the girls turned contrite countenances to Lydia.
Dutifully they thanked her for saving their lives and promised to be good in future.
“Never mind that nonsense,” she said crisply. “The ‘Miss Innocence’ expression may have worked with Lord and Lady Mars, but you don’t pull the wool over my eyes so easily.”
The angelic expressions gradually transformed to wariness as she went on, “Innocent misses do not snoop in others’ correspondence or read anything else not intended for their eyes. You are devious and daring to a fault. No biddable young lady should have a clue how to escape a vigilant household—let alone dare it in the dead of night—let alone not only escape undetected but contrive to remain undetected for more than a week. While I admire your ingenuity and comprehend your desperation, born of apparently blind worship of your wicked cousin”—hope began to glow in the young faces—“it’s also clear that you have been woefully ill-supervised during the last two years. You may be sure that state of affairs is at an end.”
Lydia’s stern tone had even Susan sitting up at attention. “Woof!” she said.
Hope faded from the allegedly innocent faces.
They turned twin pleading looks toward Vere.
“We didn’t mean to be so much trouble,” said Elizabeth.
“We only wanted to be with you,” said Emily.
“Yes, but we go together, you see,” said Vere. “We’re of one mind, Grenville and I, and the mind is hers, on account of my being a man and not having one.”
His wards exchanged troubled glances.
Then Elizabeth said, “It doesn’t matter. We wanted to be with you. And no matter how strict Cousin Lydia is, at least she isn’t timid and boring.”
“Maybe she’ll teach us how to fight,” Emily said, brightening.
“She most certainly will not,” Vere said.
“And how to smoke cigars without getting sick,” Elizabeth added.
“Absolutely not!” Vere declared. “I can think of few more disgusting sights than a female smoking.”
“Then why did you give her one of yours?” Elizabeth asked, all innocence.
“Because she—she’s different. She isn’t normal.” He glared at the girl. “And I’d like to know where you heard about that.”
“In the Whisperer,” Emily said.
“A scandal rag,” Lydia said in answer to his blank look. “You’re a perennial topic in its pages. Still, they have excellent reporters working for them. The information is usually accurate. I’ve used leads garnered from there myself, from time to time.” Her considering gaze took in his wards. “I do not believe in sheltering young women from the realities of the world. What I read, they may read—but it will be done in a family gathering, with discussion. As to fighting—”
“Damnation, Grenville.”
“Even young ladies should be acquainted with basic skills in self-defense. With proper chaperonage, they should not require them—in the best of all possible worlds. But the world is unpredictable.”
The girls instantly bolted up and commenced hugging and kissing the duchess.
He saw the glow, so warm, come into her eyes.
They would be a handful, and she knew it, and couldn’t be happier.
Death had cheated her of her mother’s and sister’s love, but she’d kept her heart open. She’d made a family of the women who’d needed her, young and old. She’d make a family of Elizabeth and Emily, and love them unstintingly, as she loved him.
He had not been so wise. Losing those he’d loved had made him drive away the ones who remained, whom he might have loved. He’d been angry—he’d understood that days ago, after the nightmare about Robin. The boy had betrayed him in dying—as Charlie had done. And Vere had shut him out, and everyone and everything associated with him.
But the mad grieving rage wasn’t the only reason.
Vere knew he’d been a coward. Unlike his wife, he’d been afraid to risk it again. Afraid to love.
It had had to take him unawares, as she had done, time and again. Sneaky, devious, refusing to play by sporting rules—that was how love worked.
And he was damned glad of it.
He arranged an injured expression on his face and said plaintively, “Oh, that’s just like you, Grenville, hogging all the affection. Don’t I get any, or is this just for plaguey females?”
“Come here,” she said. “We’ll share.”
Chapter 19
The following Wednesday found Diablo still bleeding to death in the pages of the Argus.
His servant, Pablo, hurrying toward the master, slipped in the pool of blood, fell on top of him, and instantly commenced weeping.
“Ugh. Get off. You stink.” These words emanated from the corpse.
Pablo’s stench revived the master as effectively as sal volatile might have done. In a short time, it was discovered that the deadly spoon had struck some inches below his heart, and while he was bleeding like a stuck pig, he wasn’t bleeding to
death. The dripping he’d heard was the contents of a wine bottle Miranda had overturned in her flight.
If she hadn’t kneed him in the groin when she drove in the spoon, he might have kept his balance and managed to catch her. Instead, he’d fallen and temporarily lost consciousness. His skull throbbed, and his side bled, and his nether regions were probably damaged permanently, but he was alive. And he was furious.
London rejoiced, and went on reading, avidly.
As it came to The End, London breathed a collective sigh of satisfaction.
