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When he had recovered, he gazed at the glass. “What is that? It’s not plain barley water.” He licked his lips. “There’s something more in it.” He licked his lips again. “I recognize the taste. You’ve been giving me that since I…came back from the brink.”
Sarah wasn’t sure what to say.
“It is…revivifying somehow. Is it something the doctor brought?”
Sarah might have let him think so. But what if he thanked Dr. Creel for the medicine? That would not go well. She checked to be sure the nurse was not coming back. “My mother made up an herbal mixture. She is known for her remedies.”
“Ah.” He indicated that he would like another sip, and Sarah gave it to him. “Good. So you asked her to do so?”
“Yes.” She had to add, “We didn’t mention it to the doctor.”
The earl blinked at her tone. “He had other opinions?”
Sarah nodded and wondered if she dared tell him not to mention her mother’s mixture. She decided it was better to leave it.
Lord Trestan examined her as if she was a strange exotic creature. “Why go to such trouble?” he said. “I would think you might have been glad to see me die.”
Sarah was shocked. “Of course not. You are Kenver’s father.”
“So all was done for Kenver. For his sake.”
Sarah wasn’t certain how to respond. The real answer was yes. But it seemed cold to say so, after all that Lord Trestan had been through.
He spoke again before she found the words. “What else could it be?” He stared at her from weary eyes until Sarah began to feel uneasy. “Kenver is fortunate,” he said then and closed them.
The nurse returned. With some relief, Sarah went back to the book she’d been reading to him.
She was nearly ready to stop for the day and return to her rooms when Lady Trestan came in, a document in her hand. “You may go,” she said to the nurse. An abrupt gesture included Sarah in this command. They both rose and went out, and they both lingered outside the door. Sarah made her own dismissive motion, but when Mrs. Dillon ignored her, she said nothing. Speech would reveal her presence, and she could hardly shove the woman down the hallway. They stood there and avoided each other’s eyes.
“Hello, my dear,” said the earl. “You’ve come to see how I go on?”
“I was told you were on the mend.” Lady Trestan’s tone did not suggest any strong emotion about his recovery.
“Were you?”
“Of course. The doctor made regular reports.”
“And you were pleased.”
“Naturally I was pleased, Peter. What else could I have been?” She sounded impatient with him.
“What else indeed? You haven’t been here much before, I think?”
“You know I can’t bear to be around illness.”
“Ah, yes. When Kenver was ailing, you left him to his nanny.”
“Who knew far more about sickrooms than I.”
“Yes,” Lord Trestan said again.
“I’ve brought something for you to sign,” the countess replied, as if the previous subject had been exhausted. There was a rustle of paper.
“Not now,” he responded. “I can’t read it. I’m too tired.”
“I beg your pardon?” Kenver’s mother sounded astonished. “It is important. It can’t wait on your whims.”
“Perhaps I can look at it tomorrow.”
