Terri Brisbin (7 page)

Horrified that she’d spoken such words, Miranda blinked and looked away. The silence stretched on until she glanced back at him. He opened and closed his mouth several times, as though changing his mind at his answers. She was certain that this was the first time he’d been asked such a personal question.

He must have remembered himself in the next few moments, for he straightened up and his face lost the glow and ease of the last few days. The Duke of Windmere now glared at his audacious duchess.

“Exactly that, my dear.” He put his cup down on the table and walked back to the fireplace. Leaning his arm on the mantel, he continued without ever meeting her eyes. “A short aberration that will not happen again. I
plan on rectifying the situation upon my return to town.” He did look at her now, with those polite eyes of the past five years. “I leave for London tomorrow. Please let Thompson know if you will be traveling with us. Or possibly you’d prefer to go at another time?”

She felt as though he’d slapped her squarely across her face, and she flinched at his cold tone now. Her skin felt clammy and her stomach heaved at his rebuke. Pulling herself back, she retreated to the practiced civility that he had.

“As Your Grace wishes, of course.” Clearly, he did not want to suffer her company back to town.

“Well, then. I still have business to see to before I leave. You will excuse me?”

It wasn’t truly a question, so he did not wait for her response. With a nod, he walked from the room and the footman closed the door behind him. Even the loud rough coughing that erupted from the duke in the corridor did not give her any measure of satisfaction.

Miranda sat unmoving on the chair, clasping her hands tightly in her lap. This was the reason one did not behave inappropriately—the pain in her heart crushed her and threatened to crush her soul, as well. Regardless of any change to him these last few days, Adrian Warfield was still the Duke of Windmere with all that that entailed. And she was the Duchess of Windmere.

And damn her foolish heart for forgetting that for even a moment.

“W
hy did we push off now?” Parker asked, taking a seat opposite him in the coach. “And where is the duchess?”

“The duchess prefers to travel back to town by herself.” Adrian did not know if that were the truth or not, but he would not admit it to Parker and bring about another round of griping and whining.

“That’s not so, Windmere. Her Grace told me on our way here that she dreads the journey to and fro Windmere Park.”

Probably not as much as she would dread being trapped in the same coach with him now. Her blue eyes, wounded and filling with tears, haunted him. His cruelty had been deliberate, but even he was surprised by the depth of the damage it did to her.

Adrian used his walking stick to bang on the roof of the coach. They were off a moment later, first to the vil
lage and then to London. The attack that struck him as he’d left the drawing room had been the worst in months. He’d spent the rest of the day and night in his room, trying all the various remedies that his physicians had prescribed—the medicaments, the inhalants, the syrups and concoctions.

Now, worn out from it all, he wanted to settle back in the cushions and sleep. First, though, he needed to stop to see the woman in the village who had a reputation as a healer of sorts. He’d long ignored the stories of her success, relying on the more professional advice of physicians. However, a death sentence opened him to other options he would not have considered in the past. He would have summoned her to the estate, but this would keep the gossip to a minimum.

“So what did you do that made her retreat to her rooms? If you were angry over the game, you should have told me so.”

“I was not angry over the billiards. If anyone should be angry, it should be you. She beat you by letting you win.”

“I won that game.”

“Keep telling yourself that. I think if you will examine how it went, you will understand how she drew you in, waited to pounce and then
let
you win.”

Adrian leaned his head back against the bolster and closed his eyes. This trip was going to be a long and tiring one if Parker continued harassing him each mile of the way.

“Perhaps you are correct, Windmere.”

Adrian opened his eyes and gazed at his friend. “Why the sudden change?”

“Other fish to fry.” Parker met his gaze with a level one of his own, but Adrian sensed more in those words than a simple reply. Fish to fry? Fish? Fishing? Bloody hell!

They’d been seen. Parker’s satisfied expression confirmed it.

Before he could question him, the carriage rolled into the village and stopped in front of the building that served as public rooms and an inn. Adrian would walk the short distance to the cottage of Mrs. Gresham. He’d sent word ahead so she would be there.

She pulled the door open as soon as he reached it, and Adrian found he needed to stoop over to enter. Once inside, he greeted her.

“Your Grace,” she answered with a curtsy. “This is my granddaughter, Annabelle. She helps me with my gardens and my herbs.” The girl appeared to be about ten and six, and she curtsied, as well. “If you have no objections, Your Grace, I would like her to hear your symptoms, since she aids me in my work. Her discretion can be trusted.”

He nodded and took the seat offered to him. Mrs. Gresham began asking him questions and, before he realized it, nigh on an hour had passed. Adrian could tell that she did not favor the practice of bleeding a patient, nor cupping. She frowned, shook her head and tsked
when he mentioned how many times those procedures had been applied to him. The two women consulted together and looked over the newest prescriptions from the physicians before making their recommendations to him.

“This first one is fine, Your Grace, but I would suggest ignoring the other two,” Mrs. Gresham began as she handed the doctor’s note back to him. “Instead, try these as a tea—boil the water and steep three crushed leaves for each cup. Two to three times a day. The trick of this is to prevent the lung spasms from occurring and causing further damage.”

Her granddaughter handed him several paper-wrapped packages as the older woman explained each one. “This one—add this to a good brandy or a licorice liquor and sip it when the worst of the spasms are upon you. No more than three-fingers deep in one of your fancy snifters at one time. Have your man make a small amount of it ahead for when you need it.

“This one should help your sleep,” she added.

“Laudanum?” He held up the small dark glass bottle and peered into it.

“No, Your Grace. Laudanum is something to be used with extreme care and only occasionally. This is the extract of an herb I have found helpful in inducing a healthy, deep sleep.”

He listened carefully to the instructions, including those about his daily schedule, his diet and exercise, and the avoidance of certain substances and animals. Mrs. Gresham gave well-formed opinions and rea
sons for each recommendation she made. She suggested leaving the city before the worst of the summer heat was upon it, making the air not only soot-filled but overheated, as well. And she agreed with the doctors’ suggestion of taking the waters at Bath as a way to invigorate his breathing and to ease the tightness in his chest.

He waited to ask the most important question until the end. Adrian stood to leave when they finished giving him advice.

“The physicians made a rather dire prediction. Would you agree with it?”

“Dire, Your Grace?” Mrs. Gresham stood and walked with him to the door. “What was their pronouncement?”

“That the condition has significantly deteriorated and my death may be approaching.” He tried to sound calm about it, but this was the first time he’d spoken of it to anyone. “In less than a year’s time.”

The woman reached out and patted his hand as she probably did to anyone in her family or her neighbors in need of comfort. Certainly it was a first for him. “Your Grace, they have been monitoring your condition for some years, so I would not discount their observations. There is always hope that your condition may change. These herbs and suggestions will, at the least, relieve some of the symptoms that cause you such difficulty.”

He reached into his pocket and lifted out a small purse. It contained several pounds, not the same amount the doctors charged him, but close. If her advice worked,
it was worth anything he had. “For your time and trouble, Mrs. Gresham.”

“Oh, no, Your Grace, I could not accept your coins.” She backed away as though the purse were on fire.

“Use it to replace the herbs you have given me, then.” He placed it on the table near the door and walked out before she could stop him. “I will call on you when I am back at Windmere Park.”

The women curtsied again as he took his leave. Walking back to his coach, he realized that Mrs. Gresham had an inordinate amount of medical knowledge. Each of her explanations made sense, was based on observation or practice and seemed reasonable. His steward had highly recommended her, as had his butler, and even the rector had added to the praise over her manner of treatment and abilities.

It certainly could not hurt Adrian to follow her course of treatment and see if his symptoms improved. With death as his other option, it did not seem so far-fetched at all.

Reaching the coach, he waited for the groom to retrieve Parker from the public room, and then climbed in for the long ride to London.

Parker kept his own counsel for more than an hour, offering suspicious glances but no words. Adrian, for his part, fell asleep after that and avoided any questions until they reached their stop for the night. They made their way to a private dining room that had been reserved for them, and shook off the dust of the road.

The food was hot, filling and plentiful, and served quickly. Once their port was served and the servants left, Adrian knew he could evade Parker no longer.

“So, you went walking early yesterday morning, I presume?”

“I never thought you as foolish as that. Right under your wife’s nose? You take a peasant girl against a tree at the lake where your wife takes her walks! Really, Adrian, what if the duchess had come upon you at that moment?”

“It
was
the duchess,” Adrian said quietly, amused that his friend was indignant over an affront to Miranda’s dignity.

“What did you say? The duchess? Surely not! This girl had long hair and wore men’s clothing.” Parker took a mouthful of the port and swallowed it. “Surely not?”

“I thought you were going to take me to task over my choice of a time and place for such activities, but I never realized you thought I would be so indiscreet as to have someone else while Miranda is in residence.”

“The duchess agreed to such a thing? Wearing those clothes? And the rest?” Parker appeared to be thinking now about the scene he’d witnessed, drank more and shook his head. “I never once thought it was her. She’s such a stickler, always so prim and proper.”

“Before you think the worst of her, let me explain. Apparently the duchess is able to evade my mother on occasion, dressed as a boy. Miranda, as you heard at dinner the other night, likes to fish. As she explained it to
me, her gowns and even her riding habit are impediments, so she arranged for a set of clothing for her use. ’Tis nothing more than that.”

Adrian found that he did not like the possibility of his friend thinking too hard on the subject of his wife’s lovely curves exposed by such garments. “The rest is personal and I would rather we drop the subject.”

Parker nodded quickly, also uncomfortable with the direction the conversation would take if not changed. Filling his own glass with more port, Adrian thought of the best way to broach the other topic with his friend. He’d decided on the road from Windmere Park that he needed to be able to discuss the situation with someone, and that someone should be Parker.

“The last two weeks have been difficult ones, to say the least. I was given some disturbing news and it has thrown my equilibrium off completely. Actually, it has caused me to behave in a manner distinctly opposite from my usual habits and practices.”

Parker sat down now and faced him. “This news? Was this what forced you from London?”

“I was not forced from London, but yes, this news necessitated me coming to Windmere Park to make certain arrangements.”

“And did it also cause you to break your arrangement with Caro? That is why you gave her her congé before you left?”

“Yes. I had to end it with her.”

“And this news? I presume you are ready to share it
with me? I assure you, Windmere…Adrian, I can be trusted with this.”

“The doctors do not expect me to live past year’s end.”

Just as when Adrian himself had heard the news, Parker sat speechless for several minutes. His next reaction was unexpected—he burst out laughing.

“Quite the Banbury tale, Windmere! I commend you on your ability to joke about something so serious.” He held out his glass in a toast and then downed the remaining liquid.

Adrian shook his head. “I only wish it were a jest, Will. I am serious about this. Deadly serious, if I may be gauche?”

Parker lost all the color in his face and turned the same shade that Miranda had a few nights ago—pea-green. Then, without much warning, he ran into the water closet, and Adrian could hear the retching begin almost immediately. He knew the feeling—although he’d drunk far more before casting up his accounts. A few minutes later, the door opened and Parker came out.

“Year’s end, is it, then?”

Adrian nodded and Parker dropped into the chair next to his.

“That is bloody preposterous! The physicians can do nothing?”

“Only lessen the symptoms.”

“Tell me the whole of it and then we can judge it,” he said quietly.

They talked late into the night as Adrian explained
the history of his condition, the physicians’ approach and now this new course planned by Mrs. Gresham. With the truth shared, Adrian found that the rest of the trip went by much easier. Now that he’d confided in his friend, he found himself more at peace with what he knew and what would be happening.

As they pulled in front of the house in Mayfair, Parker grabbed his arm and leaned closer so his words could not be overheard.

“What will you do?” he asked.

“Do? I’ve told you of my plans.”

“What about the duchess?”

“What about her?”

“Does she know? Is that why things were so strained between you at Windmere Park? Why you did certain things which will remain unnamed?”

They had not spoken of Miranda since Adrian had revealed the truth. And Adrian had forced the guilty feelings he had over his treatment of her from his mind. The wounded look in her eyes still tore at him and he did not know how to fix it, or even if he could repair the damage between them.

“As I said, Will, I lost my better judgment in several situations with Miranda and have caused a breach between us. I think I should let it lie for now and think on it more when she returns to London.”

“Egads, Adrian! What will she say? What will she think?”

“At this point, she might be wishing me to the devil.”

“Never say that! Miranda is good-hearted and would never wish ill upon you.” Adrian could see that Will had placed himself as Miranda’s champion.

“I do not want her to know, Will. Not now.” He’d truly not thought past the present moment.

“Do not say that you mean to keep her unaware of such a dire situation? She should know.” Parker climbed out of the coach when the groom opened the door. Leaning his head back in, he repeated his earlier words. “What about the duchess?”

Indeed, Adrian thought, completely unprepared to deal with that issue. What about Miranda?

He spent the next five days avoiding his mother’s summonses and finishing up arrangements begun during his meetings with his solicitor. Anderson was impeccable in carrying out his wishes, and soon all the estate documents were done.

Adrian attended two sessions of Lords, but sat quietly rather than getting involved in the debate or the issues that had seemed so important just a month ago. At his mother’s behest, he presented himself at two balls and danced with Miss Stevenson before making his escape to his club or back home. Parker accompanied him to many of the events, never speaking of his condition.