Fortunate Wager (6 page)

‘Nanny?’ he murmured again. His arm wrapped around her leg.

She stroked his hair. There was grit in it where he’d fallen. She finger-combed it, teasing out the dirt. ‘I’m here, Alexander. Go to sleep now. You’re safe.’

Alex drifted in and out of a hellish, pain-filled limbo. The bridge across the Long Meadow lode. They’d been told not to use it. They knew it was unsafe. But Giles had dared him, laughing, running across and back himself over the swollen water to prove there was no danger. It was simply the adults making their usual fuss about nothing. Alex had always envied Giles his quicksilver lightness and his grace. Taller and heavier, he could hear the pounding of his boots on the wooden planks as he used brute force to try and match his friend’s speed. And heard the crack of wood splintering. And felt the blow as his temple caught the rail. He knew again the icy shock of water surging inside his collar and up his sleeves. He panicked at the weight of his sodden
clothes as he tried to struggle free.

‘Hush,’ said a soft voice. ‘Stop fretting. You’re safe. Rest now.’

Nanny, thought Alex, fastening on to this one detail. Lovely, comfortable Nanny. His neck was warm where he rested on her. He pulled her hand under his cheek and went to sleep.

B
Y THE TIME
the doctor arrived, everybody was up and the sky was getting light. Caroline’s lap was numb and soaked through with the damp from Lord Rothwell’s clothes. She was anxious about him waking and seeing her like this, even more anxious about him
not
waking, and could most definitely have done without a recital of all the nasty head wounds the
stable-hands
had ever encountered. They were worse than a parcel of chaperons for looking on the black side.

Dr Peck had known her all her life. He evinced no surprise on seeing her at this hour, in this place, dressed as a lad, with a sopping wet, unconscious man’s head in her lap. He nodded to Harry then examined Lord Rothwell. ‘Dear me. Considerable loss of blood and several abrasions to the skull. Nasty. Going to take very careful nursing.’

Caroline’s stomach turned over, thinking how many of those bumps on the head had been due to her. Oh, please let him pull through this. Don’t let her have him on her conscience. ‘Will we need a cart to get him to the White Hart, then?’ she asked.

‘The White Hart?’ said the doctor, looking up from his patient in surprise. ‘No, no. With care and a length of canvas and four of your stoutest grooms we should be able to get him indoors without further damage, but any greater distance I won’t answer for.’

Caroline hoped, she really hoped, that she did not turn as pale as she felt at these words. They would have to look after him here?
She
would have to look after him here? But what if he
never recovered? She eased Alexander’s head onto one of the men’s coats and stood up, wincing at her cramped muscles. She rubbed her forehead, thinking aloud. ‘I must get out of these clothes. Give me ten minutes start, Harry, and then send word to Fortune House for me to help Mrs Penfold urgently with the nursing.’ She looked at the men. ‘You’ll need the canvas horse sling. Ask one of the maids for a clean sheet to put on it, and request the back parlour to be made ready for an injured
nobleman
. You can carry Lord Rothwell into there through the long windows from the terrace.’

Scroope, the butler, was so put out by a message from Mrs Penfold requesting Caroline’s presence on an indefinite errand of mercy before he’d even got his coat on, that he failed to put up any of the objections he would have fabricated given enough time. Caroline seized the moment and was gone without delay, leaving instructions for her clothes to be packed and sent on.

Dr Peck and the grooms had only just started across the Penfold Lodge lawn, transporting their sling with exaggerated care. He rolled his eyes at her. ‘Sort out those fools inside, will you?’

Caroline flew indoors with the result that in a very short space of time a bed had been brought down from upstairs, a maid was making it up, there was a clear path to it from the terrace door, and the rest of the furniture was standing in a surprised manner around the walls.

‘Capital,’ grunted the doctor. ‘Easy, now. Miss Caro, would you…?’

But Caroline was already there, cradling Lord Rothwell’s unquiet head as the four sweating grooms suspended the sling over the mattress. Harry positioned himself at his lordship’s feet.

‘Away,’ said the doctor. The sling was gently removed and the three of them lowered the injured man to the bed. They took a collective breath. ‘And now,’ said the doctor, ‘hot water, towels and a clean nightshirt and perhaps I can get to work on him.’

This time when Alex awoke, he still felt fuzzy, woolly-headed and ill, but a great deal more comfortable. The room was shaded. He tried to turn his head, but was instantly nauseous. ‘What…?’

A firm, cool hand on his brow stopped him moving. ‘You are at Penfold Lodge,’ said a voice. ‘You were found outside the stables and my brother had you brought indoors. The doctor says you are to remain as still as possible,
not
get agitated and only to drink barley water.’

‘The devil he does,’ muttered Alex weakly.

‘He also says you are far from out of the wood and if we do not have you in a delirious fever by nightfall then he does not know his own calling.’

‘You …’ He swallowed painfully. ‘You are a very singular nurse.’

‘It has always served Harry to know the truth. And if you do become fevered, you won’t remember I told you, so it won’t matter either way.’

This was too difficult to work out. ‘I should like a drink, if you please.’

‘Very well, but you are not to move. Open your lips and take this straw. Now sip very gently or you will … there, what did I tell you?’

A cloth dabbed the liquid away from where he had spluttered it out as he’d coughed. The incautious movement made his head feel as if it was on fire.

‘Once your body has learnt what it can and cannot do, you will prosper much better. Now sip a
little
, and run it around your mouth before you swallow.’

Alex subsided, unutterably weak, unable to summon the strength to do anything but obey. It went against the grain to admit her method worked. He felt his grasp on reality slipping. One of these days, Miss Caroline would learn a good deal about her shortcomings as a bossy, managing female, but until then … He slept.

It was well into the afternoon before Mr d’Arblay, marvellously spruce and scented, arrived to enquire about his friend. Caroline lay down her book as he was announced. At last! She had sent a message to the White Hart hours ago!

‘By God, what a fearsome bandage,’ he said, glancing at the occupant of the bed. ‘I’ll lay you odds it doesn’t stay on above a day. Alex has never been one for sick-rooms, not even when we were boys. He’ll want to be up and about as soon as may be.’

Caroline was still far from sanguine about Lord Rothwell’s recovery. She regarded the visitor’s airy confidence with extreme disfavour. ‘Then according to the doctor, he will do himself a great deal of damage,’ she said repressively.

‘I don’t fancy being the one to tell him,’ said Giles, laughing. He eyed the drawing-room furniture with amusement. ‘You have been much put out. I am sure my friend will be appropriately grateful. This is a fine terrace you have here.’ He turned the handle of the long glass door.

‘Mr d’Arblay! Pray do not let the cold air in.’

‘No need to worry about that. Alex doesn’t hold with a fusty atmosphere.’

Caroline’s lips thinned. One could get remarkably tired of Mr d’Arblay remarkably quickly. ‘I shall take care to remember,’ she said. ‘For the moment, however, Lord Rothwell is sleeping and so does not have a say in the matter. Shall I send word to you at the White Hart when there is a change? I daresay as soon as he is conscious he will be glad of your company.’

‘Champing at the bit to be off, more like.’ Giles cast another glance at the window. ‘Aye, do that. Is Fortune at the stables? I’ll have a word with him about—’

‘My brother has gone to lodge information regarding the attack. He is anxious to discover how such an assault came to take place on his property.’

There was an infinitesimal moment of silence. ‘Of course. An anxious time for us all. Although, of course, there are ruffians everywhere you turn in this town. One of the hazards of Newmarket, don’t you think? No matter, I expect I’ll run across
Fortune at Crockford’s later. Well now, you won’t want to leave your patient, so I’ll see myself out.’

‘I would not dream of any such thing,’ said Caroline, ringing for the butler with a good deal of suppressed violence. One of the hazards of Newmarket indeed. Who did this cocksure dandy think he was? ‘Hibbert will show you out. We are not in quite such disarray as to ignore the common courtesies of life.’

Giles d’Arblay made a smiling bow and left.

Caroline regarded the closing door with narrowed eyes. ‘A strange friend you have, my lord,’ she said to the sleeping man, ‘to put his own comfort and his curiosity about this house before you and your condition. I would at least have expected a question on what you were doing here so early in the morning, even if his belief in your resilience precludes an enquiry of the doctor’s prognosis.’

Which proved in the event to be accurate. As the shadows lengthened, Lord Rothwell did indeed become feverish. Caroline mopped his face, set her jaw and changed his
sweat-soaked
bandage, and then persuaded him to take some of the cooling draught Dr Peck had prescribed. He tossed from side to side, talking in restless mutters and saying repeatedly that he had to overtake Lizzy.

‘Where is she?’ he cried out, suddenly sitting bolt upright and seizing Caroline’s wrist. ‘I must get her back or there will be a scandal!’ He was clammy with perspiration, staring straight ahead with unseeing eyes, and astoundingly strong for one so ill.

Caroline felt her heart thump and her own brow grow damp with perspiration. Where was the nurse Dr Peck had promised? She would have called for a footman except for not knowing what effect a shout at such close quarters would have on Alexander’s mental state. While she hesitated, he put up his other hand to tear off the bandage. ‘I must find her before nightfall. It is all my fault. I should not have left the house. I should not have believed her when she said she had the headache. Let me go! Why do you keep me here?’

‘She is safe,’ said Caroline in desperation, hauling down on his arm and not having the smallest idea who he was talking about. ‘She is at home. You will see her for yourself tomorrow.’

‘Tomorrow will be too late! She will be at Gretna!’

He started to struggle again and Caroline bore down on him with her body. It took all the strength built up from a lifetime of horse-riding to prevent him from rising. Why had she not insisted on someone else standing watch with her? ‘Lizzy is safe, my lord,’ she panted. ‘Now do lie down.’

‘Was I in time, then?’ he said in a puzzled voice. ‘Did I find her?’

‘Yes, yes, you were in time. Lie down, Alexander.’

He fell back all at once, taking her tumbling with him. Heat came off his body in waves. ‘Rosetta?’ he murmured.

Caroline would have agreed to being the old queen herself, so concerned was she at his behaviour and his burning temperature. ‘That’s right,’ she said and pushed herself upright.

Or tried to. All of a sudden, she was very glad indeed that there was no one else in the room. One of Alexander’s arms had come round her and the other was at the neckline of her bodice. ‘Too many ribbons,’ he said drowsily. ‘Such a tease, always. I am glad you are back.’

Caroline’s heart leapt into her mouth. ‘Shh, Alexander, you are not well.’

‘Well enough for this,’ he slurred.

For a sick man, his hand was appallingly determined. Caroline swallowed down her panic. ‘Lie still while I get you a drink,’ she said. ‘You need to recruit your strength.’

He gave the wickedest chuckle she had ever heard in her life. It sent a quivering stab right into her belly. ‘You are all the elixir I need,’ he said and pulled her mouth to meet his.

Caroline went completely rigid. No one had ever kissed her like this. Alexander’s lips were hot and dry and papery, but still they covered hers with a seigneurial urgency. Her mouth opened in protest, and instantly his tongue was inside, trying to twine with hers. It happened so fast that Caroline was barely aware of
a tingling rush in her body and of not knowing how to respond before he was releasing her, rolling suddenly boneless against his pillows.

‘Thirsty,’ he muttered. ‘I’m thirsty, Nanny.’

Oh, thank goodness. Caroline scrambled off the bed faster than the last Craven Stakes’ winner had passed the post. Alexander drank most of the barley water she held for him before falling into a shallow doze.

Behind her, the door opened. Mrs Penfold came in, followed by a footman with a tray of tea. Normality and an overwhelming sense of the everyday flooded the room. ‘I daresay you’ll be glad of this,’ said Mrs Penfold, directing the footman to light the candles.

‘Oh wonderful,’ said Caroline, falling on the refreshment with real gratitude. With light, bread and butter and Mrs Penfold’s presence, the alarming episode with Alexander retreated to a manageable distance. ‘I would have called a maid and joined you but I did not like to leave him.’ She lowered her voice, eyeing the footman. ‘He has been a little indiscreet in his delirium.’

‘Ah.’ Even knowing her all her life, Caroline was never quite sure what was going on behind Mrs Penfold’s placid façade. ‘Men will be men, of course.’

‘No …’ Caroline felt her cheeks scorch, but made herself sound calm. ‘He is anxious about some sort of scandal.’

‘Then we will wait dinner until Dr Peck’s nurse arrives,’ said Mrs Penfold. ‘Nurses are trained to be circumspect.’

It was just as well. The fever increased its hold overnight. Alexander babbled about ‘Lizzy’ again and not being able to find his way to her, along with the breaking bridge and other youthful mishaps magnified out of all proportion.

‘The poor gentleman,’ said the nurse, a stout, practical lady of middle years. ‘It always takes the wiry, nervous ones the worst. He’ll be the silent type normally, will he?’

Caroline hadn’t noticed Lord Rothwell as being particularly uncommunicative, but there was no sense in alienating the nurse by telling her so.

‘Ridiculous,’ said Alexander, clearly. The nurse turned, ready to be affronted, but he was tossing from side to side again. ‘A mare’s nest,’ he continued. ‘Nothing wrong here.’

It could be worse, thought Caroline, trying to prevent him flinging himself off the bed. He could have been talking to Rosetta again.

‘Jersey’s horse,’ he muttered. ‘Fortune making too much. That boy. That rider. Never there. Never anywhere. Find out.’

Shock slammed into Caroline’s belly, ice cold and indigestible. Was that why he had been in the yard? He was
spying
on them?

Alex opened his eyes languidly, aware of a haze of headache consonant with a convivial night. Light was just touching the room. His eyes focused on an unfamiliar cornice. ‘Where the devil am I?’ he said, baffled. He winced as he turned his head – it must have been a
really
convivial night, which made it rather disturbing that he couldn’t remember any of it – and was arrested by the sight of a young woman, fully dressed, thank the Lord, curled up in a wing chair next to his bed. Except that this wasn’t his bed and he had never seen this room in his life before. What the devil was going on?