Mastering the Marquess (19 page)

“I would second that opinion,” Silverton opined dryly. “Mrs. Biggs, why don't you fetch some tea for your mistress. I'm sure that will be more refreshing than Miss Noyes's smelling salts.”

Mrs. Biggs looked doubtful as she inspected Meredith's face. The cook glanced over at Silverton and then nodded reluctantly, deferring to his authority.

“Right you are, my lord. And mayhap a splash of brandy in that tea will be just the thing to set Miss Burnley to rights.” She lumbered to the door. “I'll be back with your tea before you can say jack rabbit.”

“What a remarkable woman,” mused Silverton after the cook had exited the room. “I really must remember to thank my secretary for engaging her.”

Meredith let out a tremulous sigh and collapsed into the cushions. She gazed up at Silverton. He stared back at her, his face still marked with the residue of his anger.

“If you had not come when you did . . .” Her voice broke. She blinked rapidly to stem the tears that threatened to fall from her eyes.

Silverton muttered something under his breath. He reached out an arm to hook the back of one of the glazed cotton armchairs, pulling it toward him and in front of her. He sat and took her hands in a comforting grip.

“It's all right, sweetheart,” he murmured. “He can't hurt you again. I won't let him.”

Meredith sat up straight and tried to smile back. She thought her face might shatter from the effort.

“My lord, I fear you must be growing tired of coming to my rescue. I hardly know how to thank you again.”

The ice in his eyes began to melt. “You know I will do whatever is necessary to protect you and Annabel.”

Despite her best efforts, a few tears escaped and rolled down her cheeks. He released one of her hands and extracted a handkerchief from his pocket. She took it and dabbed her eyes. Part of her was mortified to be crying in front of him, but another part felt infinitely soothed by his protective attitude.

“Tell me what happened.”

In a halting voice, Meredith told him. As she talked, his face grew dark and his mouth set with anger, but he refrained from comment. Just as she finished, a light tap sounded on the door and Mrs. Biggs entered with the tea tray. Silverton waved Meredith aside when she tried to serve him, preparing her a cup himself. He urged her to drink, holding back any questions until she had taken several sips and Mrs. Biggs had left the room.

Feeling more herself, Meredith set her cup aside and frowned.

“What is it?” asked Silverton.

“Well, what I have never been able to understand is why Jacob and Uncle Isaac would act like this in the first place. Neither of them ever expressed any interest in Annabel or her health until just recently.”

She raised her eyes to his, and she saw her own concerns reflected there.

“In fact, until three months ago, we never saw Uncle Isaac and Aunt Nora more than once or twice a year. It's a complete mystery to me. And as for Jacob wanting to marry me”—she paused, noting with interest how Silverton's eyes flared with heat—“he never expressed any desire to do so until a month ago.”

He leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees as he stared absently at the polished floorboards. She listened to the quiet tick of the clock, reluctant to disturb his ruminations.

“Meredith,” he said abruptly, “I don't wish to pry, but I would like to know how things stand with you financially. I know Annabel inherited a large fortune from her mother. I also assume you have a separate income to support you. Is that correct?”

“Yes, my lord,” she answered readily. “Annabel inherited ten thousand a year from her mother. My father left me fifteen hundred a year, which passed to him from my grandfather, who, as you know, established a wool mill in Bristol.”

“And the mill is now run by your uncle, is it not?”

“Yes, sir. As the oldest it passed to him. My father had no head for business and never displayed any interest in the mill. Jacob, however, joined his father as soon as he came of age.”

Silverton once more lapsed into thought. Meredith hated to bother him, so she allowed her restless mind to wander instead. After a few minutes, she stole a glance at his handsome but distracted countenance. It finally occurred to her how strange it was that he had come calling so late in the evening.

She started to fidget, all too aware of his muscular leg brushing up against her skirts. He glanced up, his expression alert.

“What is it?”

She hesitated for a moment but couldn't seem to prevent herself from asking the question.

“My lord, why did you come to call tonight?”

Meredith regretted the words as soon as they were out of her mouth. Most likely he was simply being polite, taking pity on her as she sat at home with only Miss Noyes for company. She winced at the idea that he would only come to visit because he felt sorry for her.

She started to turn her head to the side, but he captured her chin between his fingers. His eyes were warm, and she had the feeling he was trying not to laugh at her.

Again.

Meredith stifled a groan, all too aware that she always seemed to amuse him. But the laughter in his eyes died away and became something else—a smoldering gaze that sent heated tendrils crawling up her legs to the junction between her thighs. Now she couldn't help but fidget in her seat.

“I came to speak to you about something of great interest to us both.” The dark purr in his voice made her stomach feel strangely muddled. “And I wanted to do so without an audience of curious relatives.”

“Is that why you haven't called on us since . . .”

“Yes, sweetheart, that's why you haven't seen me for several days. I didn't think I'd be able to control myself if I were in the same room with you.”

Silverton gently stroked her cheek with his big hand. His lips curled in a smile that dazzled her with its sensual fire. More than anything, Meredith wanted to fasten her mouth on his and draw all that spectacular warmth into herself.

“But I think,” he continued as his hand slid around to the sensitive skin at the back of her neck, “that you have had enough excitement for one evening. We will continue this discussion later.”

Her eyelids drooped as his head slowly descended to hers. His mouth brushed across her lips, nuzzling her with a tender kiss that still managed to be completely possessive.

Meredith had just started to lean into him, clutching at his shoulders, when he pulled back. His eyes danced wickedly as she fought to stifle a whimpering protest. One last soft stroke of her cheek with his fingers, and then he stood. She couldn't help sighing regretfully as he prepared to take his leave.

“I want you to get some rest, Meredith,” he ordered gently. “You must be exhausted. We will continue this conversation soon enough. And when we do, I promise you that we will finish what we started the other night.”

He leapt up the imposing marble stairs of Stanton House in two bounds.

A footman had arrived with the summons just fifteen minutes ago—a hastily scrawled note from his uncle informing him that Lady Stanton had fallen gravely ill. Silverton had practically run most of the way to Berkeley Square, his fear causing him to ignore the calls of several acquaintances as he dashed past them.

Tolliver opened the door, his normally impassive face marked with pinched concern. That was a bad sign. Silverton didn't wait to be announced, hurrying through the entrance hall to his uncle's library.

He paused on the threshold to catch his breath and observe the scene before him.

General Stanton stared in grim silence at the polished surface of his desk. Meredith and Annabel sat together on the red velvet settee in front of the fireplace, clutching each other's hands. Robert stood in one of the window alcoves, anxiously tugging at his waistcoat as his eyes flickered between Annabel and his grandfather.

Meredith looked his way when she heard the door open, greeting him with a smile that seemed mostly composed of relief. Not surprising, given the level of tension in the room.

“My dear sir.” Silverton strode to his uncle's desk. “Please tell me how the situation stands with Aunt Georgina.”

“She has caught a lung infection, that is how the situation stands,” the general managed in a strangled voice. “I knew all that damned gallivanting about town would come to no good end. And this is the result of it. She is ill, Nephew, very ill!”

Silverton heard a horrified gasp and turned to see Annabel raise a hand to her mouth to stifle a sob, looking absolutely guilt stricken. Meredith hugged her sister close, casting a resentful glance at the general as she did so. Robert rolled his eyes at Silverton, silently pleading with him to manage the volatile situation.

Sighing inwardly, he turned back to his uncle. The general's eyes were filled with anguish, and Silverton's heart was wrung with pity for the stern old man who loved his wife above all else. For the first time in his own life, he understood how a man could feel like that for a woman.

“I assume the doctor has been to see her. What is his prognosis?” he asked in a calm voice. Obviously someone had to keep his wits about him today, and he suspected it would probably be him.

The general's jaw worked mightily, but no words came out of his mouth.

“The doctor is still with her,” Meredith spoke up from behind him.

Silverton turned and leaned his hip on his uncle's desk as Meredith released Annabel and rose to her feet.

“Lady Stanton returned home from Almack's last night complaining to her dresser that she felt short of breath. She passed a restless night and was very unwell this morning. The general sent immediately for the doctor, and then sent a note to us. We came as soon as we received it. That is all we know at the moment.”

“It was too much for her!” The exclamation was wrenched from his uncle. “I knew I should have ordered her to stay home last night—I could see her fatigue. Stubborn woman will never say so, but you know she ain't strong, Silverton. Fool that I was, I said nothing!”

“Oh, no, Grandpapa,” Annabel cried. She sprang from her seat and flew around the desk to the general. The girl dropped to her knees before him and took his hands in a convulsive grip. “It was my fault. Grandmamma was only trying to help me. I'll never forgive myself if anything happens to her.”

General Stanton stared in helpless dismay as his granddaughter struggled to choke back her escalating sobs. Silverton pushed away from the desk, ready to pull the weeping girl away from his uncle, when Meredith's steady voice intervened.

“Annabel, my dear, you must try to control yourself. We don't know for sure the nature of Lady Stanton's illness. In any event, falling into hysterics will certainly not improve the situation. Please, get up off the floor. Mr. Stanton”—Meredith glanced at Robert—“will you be so kind as to pull a chair over so Annabel can sit by her grandfather?”

“Of course, Miss Burnley!” Robert responded with alacrity. He hurried to drag a fretted Chinese sidechair over to the desk.

“General Stanton,” Meredith continued in the same levelheaded manner, “I know you are worried, but the doctor will return soon. Perhaps we should refrain from envisioning grim scenarios until he finishes examining her ladyship.”

The general's eyes snapped with anger, but Meredith returned his look with a serene countenance. Much to Silverton's surprise, his uncle did not rip into her. Instead, some of the tension seemed to drain out of his body. Reaching down, General Stanton grasped Annabel's hands and helped her sit in the chair Robert had placed beside the desk.

“That's right, my dear,” he said to his granddaughter, patting her hand as she attempted to swallow her tears. “No use letting yourself fall into a flap—it ain't good for your health, either. Dr. Sibley has been taking care of your grandmamma for years. We can depend on him completely.”

Annabel gulped as she leaned over to rub her cheek against her grandfather's shoulder. Meredith watched them with a satisfied expression before glancing at Silverton. He lifted his brows, silently expressing his admiration for her adroit handling of the emotional eruption. She bowed her head in acknowledgment before sitting quietly back down on the settee.

She really was a magnificent woman, he thought. No wonder he couldn't keep his hands off her.

They waited in nervous silence until the doctor slipped through the door of the library to join them. Dr. Sibley brusquely waved Meredith aside when she offered to ring for tea.

“No need, young lady. I have a birthing to attend to, and I must return home first to make up a tonic for Lady Stanton.”

“Blast you, Sibley,” growled General Stanton. “Don't keep me waiting! How is my wife?”

The doctor ignored the old man's bad temper, clearly inured to such behavior after so many years.

“Well, General, she has taken a severe cold. Normally I would not worry, but Lady Stanton's weak heart and chest make her susceptible to fever. She needs careful watching over the next few days if she is not to fall into a decline.”

Dr. Sibley didn't need to explain that such a decline could be fatal.

“I will send over the tonic immediately and return later this afternoon. But it's imperative that an experienced nurse attend her constantly over the next few days.”

“Her dresser has seen her through several illnesses,” said the general. The color had leached out of his face, leaving it a pasty gray. “I'm sure she will know what to do.”

Dr. Sibley frowned. “Tillman is not young, and your wife will need to be watched most carefully at night. If there is no one else to assist, then I shall send over a nurse to help.”

Silverton bit back an objection. The last time Lady Stanton had been ill, the night nurse had fallen asleep after taking one too many nips from a flask of gin she had concealed in her apron.

“Absolutely not!” roared the general. “I'll not have another drunken slattern anywhere near my wife.”

Annabel flinched at his outburst, while Robert shook his head in consternation. Meredith crossed her arms over her waist and frowned thoughtfully at the floor.

“General Stanton, be reasonable,” sighed Dr. Sibley. “Your wife needs someone used to caring for sick people. Tillman cannot possibly watch her day and night.”

The general opened his mouth to argue, when Meredith interrupted him.

“I will nurse Lady Stanton,” she said.

The doctor tilted his head, studying her carefully as if assessing her fitness for such a task.

“Don't be ridiculous!” snapped the general. “What kind of experience would a girl like you have?”

Meredith raised her eyebrows as the older man bristled at her. “As a matter of fact, General,” she replied in a slightly superior voice, “I have a great deal of experience caring for sick people, including your granddaughter.”

“Oh, yes, Grandpapa,” Annabel said eagerly. “Meredith took care of me for years. You know how sick I was. Dr. Bailey always said he never knew a finer nurse than Meredith. And she was very good whenever one of the servants fell ill, too. She took care of all of us. Please let her help Grandmamma!”

General Stanton glowered at Meredith, his natural suspicion at war with his concern for his wife.

“Miss Burnley,” asked Dr. Sibley, “have you nursed someone with an infectious complaint?”

“Many times, sir,” she replied in a confident voice. She stood quietly while Dr. Sibley observed her for a few more seconds. He nodded his head as if satisfied.

“You'll do. Come with me to Lady Stanton's room, and I will give you and Tillman instructions. Work it out between yourselves who will sit up with her at night. She is not to be left alone for a minute until I am certain the fever does not take hold.”

“I understand, sir.” Meredith followed in the doctor's wake as he walked from the room.

“Wait!” cried General Stanton. Doubt and fear clouded his features. As Meredith visibly struggled to control her impatience, she turned and stepped back to the general's desk.

“Sir, I know we do not always see eye to eye, but I beg you to allow me to help Lady Stanton,” she implored in a quiet voice. “Believe me, I know all too well the effects of a violent cold on a weakened system. I assure you I will care for her ladyship as if she were my own mother.”

Meredith obviously sought to remind the old man of his own daughter's untimely death. Silverton had to admire her unconventional tactics.

General Stanton gazed searchingly into Meredith's eyes and then finally bobbed his head once in acquiescence. She gave him a gentle smile. Without uttering another word, she spun on her heel and left the room, sparing not a glance for Silverton or anyone else.