Page 28 of Counting on Love

“A reprieve,” Georgiana made the mistake of saying, with her first smile of the day.

Her mother looked at her askance. “Georgiana, I hope your attitude will improve. A great many people have been put to a lot of bother for you. A simple ‘no’ would have sufficed if you didn’t want to go.”

There had been no such option as a “simple” no.

She wouldn’t cry. She had shed enough unwarranted tears. Any other girl would be—what had Mama said? Ecstatic.

“I’m sorry, Mama. This journey has put me out of sorts.” Her, and Mama, too. She finished stiffly, “Rest assured, I know how to behave.”

*

Crispin was in fine form, Reginald was relieved to see. He was out of uniform, wearing light gray pantaloons and a closely tailored waistcoat that made it evident he had put a bit of muscle back on his skinny bones. Reginald remembered when, as a schoolboy, Crispin used to wear clothing too big for him, as if to bulk out his too-lanky frame. At some point, he evidently realized the tactic made him appear even punier because now his clothes fit. Crispin was nearly as tall as Jasper, but his bouts of illness had always prevented him from accumulating weight. Even Reginald, who was a good four inches shorter, had him beat by a stone, sometimes a stone and a half. And Reginald was by no means heavily built. But Crispin must have been in health for a while. Thank God.

Moreover, his disposition was cheerier than last time. Still, he would not speak of his military experiences. Either they were too secret or too painful to discuss. Well, they did not lack for conversational material at Chaumbers.

When Reginald interrupted their bickering in the billiard room, audible from the hallway, Crispin was making it clear he had no sympathy for Jasper’s fear of foundering.

“Bosh! You’ve been Earl of Iversley in all but name for a year and a half, Jasp. If the earldom was going to go to ruin, it would have done so by now. Just do as you’ve been doing.”

“You have no idea how difficult—”

“Oh, bosh. They’ve been preparing you for this since your steed was a hobby horse. The only difficulty I foresee is telling Vanessa you’re marrying a duke’s chit.”

That was the moment Reginald had stepped into the room. Crispin whirled around, catching the billiard balls he had been juggling, and said, “Ah, there’s just the parson I wanted to see.”

“How long have you been bursting to use that? You do know puns are the lowest form of humor?”

“Yes, well, I am feeling low. I saw the Earl last night.”

“Oh.” Reginald could not read Crispin’s face. “Did I send for you too soon again?”

Crispin gave him a hard look. It might have been that Reginald had dragged his brother away from something more important, or it might be that the humor was inappropriate, in which case Reginald was poaching in Crispin’s copse.

But then Crispin turned his face toward the wall. “No.” He sighed heavily. “No. It’s good that I came.”

“Dr. Haraldsen told Mother that indications are favorable,” Jasper said.

“Dr. Haraldsen is lying.”

Jasper crossed his arms over his chest and snapped, “And now you are a physician.”

“No. I am a man who has seen too many men die.”

“From bullet wounds and saber cuts! That hardly makes you an expert.”

“He wants to die. He’s miserable.”

Jasper glowered and looked as though he would say more, but Reginald tried to inject a little hopefulness.

“When he recovers a bit more, he might…”

Crispin shook his head. “He said he’s made his peace with God and is ready to go.”

“He said that last night? To you?” Jasper scoffed. “Why?”

“I asked.”

Both Reginald and Jasper looked upon him with horror. They had been told not to alarm Father and Crispin’s first words had been to ask him if he was ready to face God?