“Good. That is my choice as well.”
“Why?”
“Because I do not wish to return to London and wait for a month or longer while the banns are read, nor do I wish to attempt to get a special license when it might stir up even more questions about Lord Brixham from the archbishop. That issue needs to be allowed to rest undisturbed.” She leaned closer in case the medicine affected his ability to focus. “Something you should know about the woman you are about to marry is that I am not the patient sort. I do not wait well.”
He cupped her cheek in his hand and gifted her with one of his rare smiles. “Good.”
She turned her head and kissed his palm, then placed his hand back on his chest as she rose and stood beside the bed. “Rest now and do as you are told so we can marry. As I said, I am not a patient woman.”
“Aye, my own. I shall do my best to heal quickly.”
“Then close your eyes. I shall be right here, sitting in the chair, should you need me.”
“Nay, woman.”
“What?”
“Ye must rest as well. Go to your bed. Brown will watch over me.”
“I do not like leaving you.”
“Good. I am glad. But I still wish ye to see to yer own rest whilst I see to mine. Please?”
“You are impossible, you know that?”
“Aye. Mother has told me that a time or two, and I believe Malcolm mentioned it once or twice as well.”
She leaned over and kissed him on the forehead, relieved to discover no fever had set in just yet. He was warm but not overly so. “Go to sleep.”
“I will, my own.” His chest rose and fell with a deep sigh. “I love ye, Merry,” he said with a softness sweet as a caress.
She kissed his forehead again. “I love you more. Now sleep.”
“Aye, my love. Aye.”
She eased away, treading gingerly across the room toward the door. Duncan didn’t move and appeared to be resting comfortably. Stepping out into the hallway, she quietly closed the door behind her, then spied the valet waiting farther down the hall. “Mr. Brown?”
“Yes, my lady?”
“He refuses to let me sit with him. Won’t sleep unless I leave. Swear you will come and fetch me at the first sign of the slightest change.”
“Of course, my lady.”
“I mean it, now. I know he appears to be doing as well as possible, but should that change, I want to be informed immediately.”
The valet placed his hand over his heart and bowed his head. “I swear to fetch you and keep you informed, my lady.”
“Thank you, Mr. Brown.” Merry didn’t wish to be harsh with the man, but he simply had to understand that she didn’t wish to be coddled or shielded when it came to Duncan.
Oddly numbed by the events of the evening, she returned to the room she shared with Serendipity, Lady Evelyn, and the maids. As she entered, their conversations halted. “Duncan is resting,” she said. “Much to his dismay, Dr. Hatler tricked him by lacing his whisky with laudanum.”
Pressing a hand to her chest, Lady Evelyn lifted her face to the heavens and smiled. “Praise the Almighty.” Then she rose and urged Merry to sit on the bed. “Fetch her some fresh tea,” she told the maids without taking her gaze from Merry. “Are ye all right, lass?”
A bit addled, Merry shrugged. “I am not sure yet.”
“’Tis the shock of all that has happened.” The dowager gave her a motherly hug. “It will pass.”
“While you were in with Duncan,” Serendipity said, “Dr. Hatler informed us that Lord Brixham is no longer suffering.”
