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The question was intended to shift the focus from Robbie’s seizure to something else—anything else. Althea allowed the change in topic because Stephen’s situation was relevant.
“Our father broke Stephen’s leg when Stephen was four years old. Stephen was hungry—he was always hungry—and Papa had filched a loaf of bread from somebody’s windowsill. He enjoyed tormenting his children by eating in front of them, bite by bite, knowing they longed for even a stale crust. Sometimes he’d toss a bit of food to the floor for them to fall upon like stray dogs, sometimes he’d eat the lot and laugh at the children’s silent misery.”
She had Robbie’s attention. In fact, he looked like he wished she’d say no more, but Althea denied him that indulgence.
“On one occasion,” she went on, “Stephen refused to remain silent. A four-year-old boy can hold a lot of rage, especially when his own father taunts him for being hungry. He railed at Papa, and Papa—who was perennially drunk—either tripped over him or purposely stomped on his leg. In either case, the result was a child better suited to begging effectively, and Jack Wentworth saw that as an advantage.”
Robbie closed his eyes, which was wise of him. If he renewed his lamentations regarding a condition that had befallen many a hapless soul, one to which no shame or disfigurement ought to attach, Althea would…
She’d do nothing. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I know your situation is not purely a case of the falling sickness, and you have suffered much.”As has your brother.
Robbie remained quiet for so long she thought he’d gone back to sleep. Seizures apparently left him tired as well as foggy, while Althea was wide awake.
“You refer to your father’s children in the third person,” Robbie said, eyes still closed. “‘Theylonged for even a stale crust.’ I cannot set my disability at the same distance, my lady. At any moment, I can collapse, shaking on the ground like some helpless, pathetic…Old people still think the falling sickness is the work of demons, while I regard it as a curse.”
Robbie was bedeviled, of a certainty, but the seizures alone were not the problem. “Would you like a drink of water?”
He sat forward. “You do not feel sorry for me.”
“I hope I have a normal complement of compassion for anybody afflicted with difficulties.” Knowing she would leave in the morning, knowing Robbie’s troubles afflicted his brother, their servants, and others outside Rothhaven Hall, Althea’s sympathy for Robbie was tempered with frustration. He could have been a duke, could have had his pick of duchesses, taken his place in the Lords, and made a life outside the Hall, or simply lived in quiet obscurity without creating a whirlpool of intrigue and deception.
Her judgment assumed, though, that the man who’d chosen to remain a stranger to the world years ago had also been the same articulate, intelligent, reasonably fit specimen Althea beheld now.
“My choices seem to be self-pity or self-disgust,” he said. “When I have good days, I exhort myself to do more andbemore, and when the good days come along in succession, I start to hope. Hope is a wretched torment. Then another bad day comes, and I’m reduced to…well, you’ve seen the result. I cannot remain upright, I cannot form a complete sentence, and I cannot see past the complicated situation here at the Hall.”
“Are you apologizing, Your Grace? If so, then I think the party deserving of your words is asleep across the corridor.”
His brows rose.
The form of address had been unintentional, though Althea did not regret it. “My brother Quinn wanted no parts of a title. He was willing to die—horribly—to avoid it, but he’d married his Jane, and he had me, Stephen, and Constance to consider. Quinn is defined by the need to not be what Jack Wentworth was. Petty, selfish, ugly inside and out, a creature without morals. Quinn is a competent duke, but only because he’s a spectacularly determined and honorable man. I wish you could meet him.”
Althea missed Quinn, which came as something of a shock. He was significantly older than his half siblings, and in Althea’s childhood, Quinn had always been off trying to earn coin. And yet, he and Althea had had an alliance, she being the oldest of the children forced to remain in Jack’s care. Quinn would slip her the bulk of his pay or leave it in a hiding place she kept secret from Jack.
Quinn had relied on her to shield Stephen and Constance from the worst of Jack’s temper, and he’d always let her know how to reach him. He’d shown her how to protect herself from men bent on mischief and told her quite plainly to protect herself from Jack in the same manner if the need arose.
“Having had the pleasure of meeting Lord Stephen,” Robbie said, “I can only imagine what the Wentworth patriarch must be like. I do fancy a sip of water, if it wouldn’t be too much trouble.”
Althea passed him the glass as the clock struck three.
“I see the patient is awake.” Nathaniel closed the bedroom door. He wore no coat, only shirtsleeves and waistcoat, but he looked rested and tidy.
“Not much of a patient,” Althea said. “I believe the fever has all but departed, leaving only the restlessness of a man on the mend.”
Robbie handed her back the glass. “We were enjoying the adventures of young Tom Jones. Perhaps you’d like to pick up where her ladyship left off?” His tone was casual, and apparently the seizure was not to be mentioned.
Althea had kept much from Quinn’s notice, unwilling to burden him regarding problems he could not solve. Robbie was clearly intent on the same courtesy where Nathaniel was involved.
“I’ll catch a nap,” she said, “and plan on leaving in the morning.”
“We’ll miss you,” Robbie replied, while Nathaniel said nothing as he took up the book and assumed the seat Althea had vacated.
“Trying to sneak away?” Nathaniel asked.
Althea had her basket over her arm, though now the basket was empty. She opened the door to the walled garden and let a gust of damp, dewy air into the house.
“I thought to get home before anybody is abroad. Robbie is all but recovered, and…”
And there’s nothing for you here.“And you would never impose,” Nathaniel said, “even to ask for an escort onto your own land. Robbie has been snoring peacefully for the past two hours. Let me fetch my cloak.” He waited for her to nod before he left her by the side door.
