Shattered Rainbows (23 page)

She would have done the same for any friend, perhaps even for a stranger. Yet the knowledge that she had shared her lifeblood moved him profoundly. For as long as he lived, something of her would be part of him. He closed his eyes against the sting of tears. It was damnable to be so weak.

The Earl of Strathmore was frowning over the letter he had just received when a footman entered. "Lord Aberdare is here, my lord. I've shown him into the drawing room."

Lucien rose to greet his friend. Trust Nicholas, the intuitive Gypsy, to come all the way from Wales because he sensed trouble on the wind. After shaking hands, Lucien said, "I just received a letter from Brussels about Michael. He was badly wounded, you know."

"I know—Clare and I have seen the casualty lists," Nicholas said tersely. "But I've been worried about Michael for weeks. Since I was nervous as a cat on a griddle, Clare told me to come to London because news would arrive here more quickly."

Lucien handed him the letter. "A Mrs. Melbourne wrote this. Michael was billeted with her family this spring, and now she's caring for him. Apparently his chances of recovery are good."

Nicholas scanned the page. "He mentioned Catherine Melbourne in several of his letters. Her husband is a dragoon captain." He gave a low whistle as he read the letter. "Michael was carrying that kaleidoscope you gave him all those years ago and it blocked a bullet to the belly?"

"Apparently. Mysterious are the ways…"

"Thank God he had it with him." Nicholas frowned. "It's obvious that even if Michael doesn't take a turn for the worse, it will be a long convalescence. You know everyone, Luce. Where can I find a really comfortable yacht?"

Lucien's brows rose. "You mean… ?"

"Exactly." Nicholas neatly refolded the letter. "Clare has already given me my marching orders. I'm to go to Belgium and bring Michael home."

Amy's dark head peered around Michael's door. "Today's newspaper has arrived, Colonel. Shall I read it to you?"

"I would enjoy that very much."

He smiled as Amy entered and sat down with a graceful swirl of skirts. The house was much livelier since Anne and the children had returned from Antwerp. Charles had regained much of his strength, and most of the Belgian servants were back.

Life had returned to normal for everyone except Michael. Though the pain had lessened, he was still maddeningly weak. The brisk Dr. Kinlock had assured him that his condition was normal after such blood loss, but the knowledge did not increase his patience. He particularly hated having Catherine see him in such a pathetic state. The fact that she was an experienced nurse and not in love with him did not assuage his tattered male pride.

His condition had one advantage: he was too feeble to feel desire. Instead, his yearning was of the heart, not the body. He had not realized how deeply he cared for Catherine until now, when passion no longer obscured more subtle feelings.

Amy read the main stories of the day, translating from French to English. Michael knew French, of course, but listening to English was less effort. Besides, he enjoyed her company. If he ever had a daughter, he hoped she would be like Amy.

She turned the page. "Here's a nice story. The French army surgeon, Baron Larrey, the one who invented the field ambulance? He was captured by the Prussians after Waterloo. Marshall Blucher was going to have him executed, but a German surgeon who had heard Baron Larrey lecture went to Blucher to plead for his life." She looked up, her eyes shining. "And guess what?"

"Blucher changed his mind, I hope?"

"Not only that. It turned out that Blücher's own son had been wounded and captured in a skirmish with the French, and it was Larrey who had saved his life! Isn't that wonderful?" She looked back at the paper. "Now Marshal Blucher is sending Baron Larrey back to France with a Prussian escort."

"That's a very good story," Michael agreed. "The world needs all the healers it can get."

As Amy refolded the newspaper, her mother entered. "Time to go upstairs for your lessons, my dear."

After grimacing elaborately, Amy dropped an elegant curtsy. "So good to see you again, Colonel Kenyon. Until tomorrow?"

"Until tomorrow, Mademoiselle Melbourne. Thank you for the gift of your presence."

Her dimples flashed as she skipped out, a tomboy again.

Catherine said with mock severity, "What, pray tell, is Louis the Lazy doing on your bed?"

"Sleeping, of course." Michael rested his hand on the dog's back. "Does he ever do anything else?"

"He eats. Sometimes he scratches. It's a narrow range." Catherine ruffled the dog's silky ears. "Do you mind if I do my knitting here? This is the quietest room in the house."

"You're always welcome, if you can bear my snappish temper."

"Actually, you're surprisingly good-natured for a man who is probably being driven mad by inactivity." Catherine took a seat and removed embroidery from her work bag. Now that she was less busy, she spent hours sitting quietly with him, doing needlework or writing letters. It was healing to have her near.

"I don't have the strength to throw a really good tantrum," he said wryly. "Not when my great achievement of the last week has been managing complete sentences again."

"Ian Kinlock says you're making excellent progress." She looked up with a stern glance. "As long as you don't bring on a relapse by trying to do too much, too soon."

"I can't lie here like a limp cravat forever," he said reasonably. "You're very patient, but surely you want to join your husband in Paris. Life will be much gayer there."

Her gaze dropped and she made a precise stitch. "A letter came from Colin today. He said that since he owes you his life, I must stay in Brussels until you're well."

Michael's mouth tightened. "There is a limit to how much charity I can accept."

"There is no charity involved." She selected a new skein of silk thread. "Having spent an exhaustingly brilliant spring in Brussels, I'm in no hurry to frolic in the fieshpots of Paris. Besides, with Charles leaving the army and taking his family back to London, heaven knows when I'll see the Mowbrys again."

He released his breath in a slow sigh. Perversely, he was simultaneously glad not to be a burden and regretful that he was not more important to her.

Footsteps were heard approaching along the hall. After a perfunctory knock,
Anne opened the door. "Michael, are you well enough for a visitor? A friend of
yours has just arrived from England." She stepped aside and ushered in Nicholas,
then left. .

"Good Lord," he said blankly. "I'm dreaming."

"No such luck. I've tracked you down." Nicholas clasped Michael's hand, the hardness of his grip belying his casual air. "Clare sends her love. She would be here if not for the baby."

Michael tried to think of some witty response, but he failed. After swallowing hard, he said, "Catherine, meet the Earl of Aberdare. Nicholas."

The earl turned and gave a warm smile. "Sorry, I didn't see you there. I'm glad to meet the legendary Saint Catherine."

The obvious affection between Michael and his friend made Catherine feel forlorn and excluded and not at all like a saint. Disliking her reaction, she rose and offered a smile in return. "The pleasure is mine. How did you get to Brussels so quickly?"

"A good yacht and captain." The earl glanced at Michael again. "Both courtesy of Rafe, who sends his best wishes, and a severe scold for being fool enough to get yourself shot."

A smile crossed Michael's gaunt face. "Knowing Rafe, the scold probably came first."

"Yes, but I'm too tactful to admit that." Aberdare reached inside his coat and pulled out a shining silver tube. "Lucien sent this, to replace the one that was destroyed."

"Does it include the same good luck?"

"Guaranteed." Aberdare gave him the kaleidoscope.

Michael held it to his eye and turned it slowly. "This version is a little larger than the other, and even lovelier. Catherine, you never saw the original before it was smashed, did you? Take a look."

She accepted the tube and pointed it at the window. Inside was a brilliantly colored star-shaped pattern. She gave a sigh of delight. "Enchanting."

The figure changed as she turned the tube and the colored fragments realigned. They really did look like pieces of rainbow. Lowering the device, she said to the visitor, "It was good of you to come. Are you on the way to Paris?"

Aberdare shook his head. "No, I've come to take Michael back to Wales. That is, if he wants to go and can be moved."

Fighting back a ridiculous urge to say that he was hers and she wouldn't let him leave, Catherine said, "It's up to the doctor, of course, but surely that's a long, exhausting trip even for a healthy person."

"I'll take him to the coast by barge," the earl said. "Then the yacht will sail around Britain to the port of Penrith, only a few miles from home. Not a fast trip, but going by water all the way should make it fairly painless. Also, I brought a nurse handpicked by Lucien's wife to take care of Michael on the trip."

"Home." Michael's eyes closed for a moment. "I'd like that. Very much."

"Then it will be done." Aberdare regarded him thoughtfully. "It's time to leave. We're tiring you."

His eyes opened again, looking very green. "Not really. I'm this useless all the time."

"True, but Mrs. Melbourne will surely have my head if I don't let you rest." Aberdare briefly laid his hand on Michael's. "Until later."

Catherine and Aberdare left the room. As soon as the door closed, the earl exhaled roughly and covered his eyes with his hand. Concerned, Catherine asked, "Are you unwell, my lord?"

"Please, call me Nicholas." He lowered his hand, revealing a strained expression. "We knew he had been gravely wounded—that's why I came. But it's still a shock to see him like this. He's always been so strong. He must have lost two stone, and he looks like his own ghost. It brings home how close we came to losing him."

"He's fortunate to have such friends," Catherine said as she led the way downstairs. "You've gone to a great deal of effort for him."

"Michael is family, really. He lives just across the valley from us. He's godfather to my son." Nicholas ran tense fingers through his black hair. "We've been friends since our school days. I'm half Gypsy, not the best ancestry for a snobbish place like Eton. Michael was the first boy willing to make friends. I've never forgotten that." He gave Catherine a slanting glance. "I promise we'll take good care of him, Mrs. Melbourne."

Wondering uncomfortably how much the earl had seen in her face, Catherine said, "You must call me Catherine." They entered the drawing room. "Where are you staying?"

"Nowhere yet—I came directly here." Nicholas made a dismissive gesture. "With everyone gone to Paris, it should be easy to find rooms in a hotel."

"You can stay here—the room across from Michael's is empty, and there is room for three or four servants."

"Thank you." He gave a tired smile. "You're very kind."

Catherine smiled back, but underneath, her heart ached. Though she had known she would lose Michael, she had not expected it to be quite so soon.