A Guardians Angel (21 page)

“Good afternoon, Justin,” she said, knowing that she sounded silly to be so prosaic when she longed to spill out the hopes within her heart.

“We are well met.”

“Yes.”

“Where are you bound?”

“It is Thursday.”

His forehead furrowed. “You are right. I was thinking it was already Friday, because this week has been endless.” He looked down when Seth tugged on his coat. “Yes, Mr. Sutton?”

“You were supposed to be home when we came to call,” Seth said.

“I shall remember that.” He looked back at Angela. “I owe you an apology, Angela.”

“And I owe you one.”

“No, you don’t. Caring about Delicia so much that you speak your mind is not a crime.”

Taking his arm, she turned him toward Esther and Delicia, who were deep in their private form of conversation. Their whole bodies seemed to be part of it as they paid no mind to the fitful wind that tugged at their hair. Esther talked endlessly, but pointed here and there and up and down. Delicia seemed to understand because she kept nodding and pointing as well.

“Unbelievable,” Justin said in awe.

Angela slipped her arm through his. “Think about the school I told you about, Justin. I will be glad to bring you the newspaper article again.”

“You saved it?”

“Yes.”

He cocked a brow at her. “If you will return it to me, I will promise to read it this time.”

“But?”

“I promise I will read it. That has to be enough for you now.”

She touched his lips. “That is not enough for me now.”

His mouth lowered toward hers, and she closed her eyes, eager to lose herself in the pleasure. When he lifted her hand and kissed it, she stared up at him in astonishment. He looked past her, and she recalled how many witnesses there were to this conversation.

With a chuckle, he slapped Thomas companionably on the back. “I am sorry, too, old chap, that we did not get the chance to study the butterflies at Milborough Manor. Mayhap next week, Delicia and I can show you the butterflies we discovered not far from the stream.”

“You are teaching
her
about butterflies, too?” Thomas’s wide eyes were filled with apprehension. And jealousy, Angela realized when he stammered, “I—I thought that was something you and I—I mean, that we …”

“Thomas, you know I could not be teaching her anything without your wonderful drawings. I hope you will join us on our next sojourn across the moor. I would appreciate your skill at catching butterflies in your net. It surpasses even mine now.”

The boy’s grin returned. “I would be happy to, Justin.”

“Excellent.”

“Can we go by ourselves sometimes?”

Justin laughed. “Of course. I suspect Delicia is far more interested in your sister than in butterflies, so we can leave them playing at Harrington Grange while we pursue our prey.” Thunder crackled. “Blast! That storm is coming fast.”

Rain splattered around them before Angela could reply. Taking his hand, she said, “Come with us.”

“Where?”

“To Oslington Court, of course.”

He shook his head. “Oslington told me to stay away.”

“You are too far from Harrington Grange.” She shuddered as lightning flickered across the sky. “Do not let your pride cause you to risk Delicia.” Raising her voice, she called, “Run as fast as you can for the house!”

Angela gathered up Seth as Thomas picked up Delicia and ran toward the gate. Leonia chased after him. When Justin, muttering an oath, scooped up Esther, who squealed with excitement, and rushed past her, Angela followed him through the gate. She cringed as lightning flashed and thunder followed so quickly she knew that the storm was almost overhead. Wind buffeted her, and the trees at the edge of the road whipped about as if being stirred in a giant pot. She tried to run faster. Pain burned under her ribs, but she did not slow.

The door was thrown open, and her arm was grasped as she hurried up the steps. Seth was taken from her, and she leaned against the wall. She gasped when a fierce crack was followed by branches crashing to the road where she had been running just moments ago.

Strong arms surrounded her, and she leaned her cheek against Justin’s chest. His heart was beating as rapidly as hers. When she tilted her head back and saw the longing in his eyes, she did not care who might be watching. She drew his mouth down to hers. The tempest surging through her as his kiss deepened was more powerful than the one beyond the walls. Her arms curved up his back, delighting in the flow of muscles she had been afraid she would not be able to touch again. There was so much that needed to be said between them, but now she wanted only to exult in his caresses.

“Thank heavens!” came a shout. “You are back!”

Pulling away from Justin, Angela was astounded to see Hervey coming down the stairs at a speed for which he usually chided one of the children. She gasped when the butler grabbed her hands and pulled her toward the stairs. She looked back and saw the children and Justin were as bewildered as she was.

“Hervey, is something amiss?” she asked.

“’Tis His Grace. He is deathly ill.”

Fourteen

Leonia pushed past her siblings and ran to Hervey. “Is it both a fever and chills?”

“Yes! That is what his valet said.” The butler wrung his hands. “Culver sought me out when His Grace swooned in his book-room. We just got him to his room.”

Angela turned to Leonia. “His Grace has suffered from something similar before?”

“It is a condition he got in India from the bad airs there.”

“Malaria,” Justin said softly.

Leonia faced him. “May I impose on you to go for Dr. Young, Lord Harrington? Hervey can call for a carriage to be brought for you to fetch the doctor.”

“I shall go immediately.” He looked past her to meet Angela’s eyes. “Do you need anything else?”

“Just the doctor.” Angela motioned for the children to go with Mrs. Meyer, who was coming down the stairs. She was glad that Esther still held Delicia’s hand and led her after Seth and Thomas. Lowering her voice, she asked, “Hervey, where is Her Grace?”

“With her son.” As quietly, he added, “She is not one who is good in a sickroom, I fear.”

Wanting to say that was no surprise, Angela held her tongue. She put her arm around Leonia as they went up the stairs toward the duke’s apartment. The door closed loudly on the ground floor, and she knew that Justin was on his way to get the doctor. Thunder crashed overhead, and she shivered.

“Do not fret, Angela,” Leonia said. “He shall be fine.”

“Justin or His Grace?”

“I hope both of them.” Leonia adding nothing else as they went to the double doors that opened into the grandest private rooms in the house.

Angela did not take time to admire the elegant furniture or the ceiling painted with a sylvan scene like the one on the ballroom ceiling at Milborough Manor. She skirted maple tables covered with books and passed through one of a trio of doors set opposite a huge bay that reached nearly twenty feet to the ceiling.

“Where have you been?” the duchess asked, coming forward to meet them. “Rodney is so ill. How could you disappear at a time like this? Where is the doctor?” The last question was aimed at the butler.

“We have sent for him,” Hervey replied, bowing his head.

“Who did you send? Not that dolt in the stable, I hope.”

Leonia’s nails bit into Angela’s arm, but Angela removed her bonnet as she said, “We sent Lord Harrington for the doctor.”

“Lord Harrington?” The duchess’s eyes grew round. “Are you mad? He was
here?
”

“He sought shelter from the storm for both himself and his daughter. Would you send a little girl out into the midst of the thunderstorm?” Angela did not give anyone a chance to answer. “As I said, he is on his way to get the doctor.”

Leonia piped up, “I wish to see Rodney.”

“Impossible!” The duchess folded her arms in front of her. “You are a young girl. You have no place in a man’s sickroom.”

“It would not be the first time.” Leonia’s chin rose to jut at the duchess, amazing Angela. “I know what should be done.”

“I will not have improper behavior under this roof.”

“The most improper thing would be to let him die!”

When the duchess puffed up, appearing about to explode, Angela intruded with, “Your Grace, if Leonia can give instructions to His Grace’s manservant, certainly there can be nothing wrong with that.”

The duchess glared at Leonia. “She is just a chit. She has no idea how to handle herself in polite society.”

“We are not talking about an assembly, Your Grace,” Angela argued. “We are talking about your son’s life.”

Slowly the duchess faced Angela. Her face was almost as colorless as the duke’s had been when Angela last saw him in the hallway. Taking the duchess’s arm, Angela helped her sit on a comfortable chair. She motioned, and Hervey brought a stool so the duchess could prop her feet. Ordering the butler to bring some tea for the duchess, Angela motioned to Leonia to do what she must.

She was not astonished when Leonia took her arm and gave her a grateful smile. She went with the young woman to the half-opened door. As Leonia pushed it aside, a short, white-haired man that Angela knew was the duke’s valet sprang out of the room and nearly embraced Leonia.

“Thank the heavens you are here, Miss Sutton!” he exclaimed in a loud whisper. “I do not know what else to do. I put His Grace to bed. First, he is too hot. The next minute, he is too cold. I fear if something is not done, he is going to die.”

“Nonsense,” said Leonia with the same serenity that she had shown in the foyer. Pulling off her bonnet, she pushed it into the man’s trembling hands. “Have Dr. Young brought up as soon as he arrives. Meanwhile, have a fire set on His Grace’s hearth. Send for more blankets.”

“But, right now, he is sweating with a fever!”

Angela said quietly, “Do as she says, Culver. She knows more about these Eastern diseases than any of us.”

“Eastern?” He shuffled his feet, looking as young as Thomas. “You are right. I know nothing of them. I was not with His Grace in India, Miss Needham. I have been at Oslington Court for all the years I have been in service.”

She patted his arm. “You need not apologize when you are already doing your best. Just do as Miss Sutton asks.”

Relief eased the deep lines on his face. “That I can do.”

Angela looked past him to where Leonia stood by the grand bed with its red-and-gold bedcurtains. The young woman seemed to have gained years of maturity, for her face was tranquil as she placed a damp cloth on the duke’s forehead. If there had ever been any doubt in Angela’s mind about Leonia’s feelings for her guardian, they would have been banished now.

When Hervey poked his head past the door, Angela went to him. “How is Her Grace?” she asked.

“I put some sleeping powder in her tea, so she will rest.” His lips quirked. “And so she will not interfere with Miss Sutton.”

“Thank you.” She looked past him as a short, stout man entered the outer chamber. A quizzing glass dropped from a chain over his sedate waistcoat, and his hair was the same dark gray as his coat. She knew he was the doctor when she saw Justin in the hallway beyond the door. Wanting to go to him, she said instead, “This way, Dr. Young.”

“You are?” he asked in a thin voice.

“Miss Needham, companion to the duke’s ward.” She stepped back to allow him into the room. “This way, sir.”

He bustled into the room. When she looked past him, she saw the duchess asleep on a settee. The hallway was empty. Although she wanted to ask if Justin had gone to get Delicia and was going back to Harrington Grange or if he planned to wait somewhere else, she could not take the time.

Following him to the bed, Angela watched the doctor greet Leonia. She smiled to herself when Leonia began to pepper the doctor with questions that it quickly became clear he had no answers for. She suspected Dr. Young had no more knowledge of diseases from India than the valet did.

At a groan, Angela saw the duke’s eyes were partially open. She put another cool cloth on his forehead because Leonia was still deep in conversation with the doctor.

“Miss Needham?” the duke asked, his voice a thready whisper.

“Rest,” she murmured. “The doctor is here.”

He mumbled, but she could not understand a single word. His eyes closed again, and she guessed he was lost once more in his fever.

The doctor examined the duke far more swiftly than Angela had expected, not even asking her or Leonia to leave. There was no need, because he did no more than check the duke’s eyes and put his hand on his forehead.

When he turned from the bed, Leonia began to ask him another question. He paid her no mind. He walked away from the bed and gestured to Angela. She went with him to the door.

Reaching into his bag, he pulled out a small container. “Give her this powder, Miss Needham, or I fear she shall make herself quite ill with worry.”

“Her? Her Grace?”

“No, Miss Sutton.”

“Leonia is fine.”

“She is acting quite unlike herself. She is making endless suggestions.”

Angela smiled. “I know, but it is because she knows best how to help His Grace.”

Grumbling, Dr. Young put the packet on the duke’s writing table. “If she needs it …”

“What about His Grace?”

“I believe what you are doing is the best thing one can do.”

Not sure how to respond when the doctor was offering no help, Angela stepped aside again as he brushed past her to take his leave. Her dismay must have been visible, because Leonia left her post by the bed and came over to her.

“Do not worry, Angela,” she said. “This spell is not as bad as the one he had on the ship from India. I know how to care for him.”

“Mayhap because you care for him so much.” She squeezed Leonia’s hand.

“Tell the others that Rodney will be fine. He needs to rest, but as long as he is kept warm, he will be fine.”

Angela nodded. “Culver and Hervey are here to help you. Her Grace is asleep.”

“That will help as well.” She ran back to the bed as the duke groaned. “Go,” she added. “We will take care of him.”

Slipping out the door, Angela was glad to see Culver go into the bedroom. There would be no impropriety when the duke was so sick or even when he was hale, but there must be no hint of it.