Awakening His Duchess (36 page)

“What do you think it is?” asked Beau.

“I am not certain,” she answered. But her mind kept circling
back to how she’d been unable to do much when the slaves had the same black
spots on their palms and the same white marks on their nails. A few had lost
hair. How was she going to cure the duke when she’d failed to cure the slaves?
“But I have seen this before back in Saint-Domingue. I should have noticed the
signs earlier.”

“Should I send for a doctor?” Beau whispered.

“
Mon Dieu,
non!”
She shook her head and tried
to convey with a look that she would explain later. The doctor in
Saint-Domingue had tried to cure their slaves, but everyone the doctor treated
had died. Her father had refused to pay him when his failure was so
spectacular. She had treated some of the others and, while most of them had
passed, at least a few had lived with her herbal treatments. “To bleed or cup
is the wrong treatment. We must thin his blood but not take it.”

A sharp pain began under her breastbone. Tragedy haunted
her. It was as if she dared believe she might be happy and this was the result.
She shook her head. Surely God did not find her so important or her sins so
mortal that he sought to punish her at every turn.

“I need Cook to cut up raw garlic and bring it to the duke’s
room,” she barked to a footman. “He can have it with bread and oil, but do not
cook the garlic.”

Beau turned and coughed again. She did not need his lungs
seizing at a time when she needed to take care of the duke. “Beau, go outside.”

“I don’t need you to shield me,” he said.

She glared at him. “You cannot get sick right now. If the
smoke in the room bothers you, do not stay. And if your presence is upsetting
your father, it would be better for you to remove yourself.”

For a second she thought he wouldn’t comply, but he just
gave her an annoyed look and let himself out of the room. She heard him tell
Finley to give her whatever she asked for.

The duke clawed at her. “What is it?”

She clasped his hand in hers. “I will take care of you.”

Nothing made sense, and her suspicions swirled. But she
couldn’t dwell on them. She needed to do what she could to save the duke’s
life.

 
*~*~*

Beau sat with his face in his hands on a low bench outside
his father’s room. Hours had passed and as Yvette predicted the duke had become
violently ill.

Yvette pushed her hair back, and Beau stood. Not caring
about an undignified display, he wrapped her in his arms. “I have had Cook send
up a tray of cold meats, cheeses and tarts for when you think you might stop
and eat. It is in our sitting room.”

She smiled wanly. “He would like to speak with you.”

He rocked her a minute and kissed her forehead. “Don’t look
so glum, Yvette. I know that if he has a chance, your care will be what makes a
difference.”

She gave him an absent pat as if she were no longer present,
or only her body was but her spirit had fled. She was like a shadow of herself.
As he had been or was supposed to be after he’d been poisoned, buried and dug
back up.

“I want to give him
amendras de los Andes
but I do
not know they can be had here. I have never seen them this side of the ocean.”

“I thought you were giving him garlic.”

She rubbed her forehead. “Yes, but the nuts would help. I do
not know that it will be enough. I have seen this before back in
Saint-Domingue.
Mon pere’s
slaves have the same black marks. Most of
them did not live.”

“So is he...dying?” Anxiety gripped him tight around the
throat. His father was too indomitable to die, except he wasn’t. In his years
away, the duke had grown weak and old.

Yvette gave a shrug. “I am doing everything I can.”

“I know you are, sugar. Go tell Finley he must locate these
almonds of the Andes. Send to London or even Spain if he must.”

“I should have seen it sooner,” she said dully. “I do not
know if I brought this disease with me...but he has been ill since Etienne and
I came here. None of this makes sense.”

“No, sweetness. It could have easily been that Mazi and I
returned with whatever ails him.”

She pushed out of his arms. “Go to him.”

He nodded. He had to make peace with his father if nothing
else.

The room was still with the oppressive air that pervaded
sick rooms. The smell of garlic hung heavy in the air as the duke’s valet
spooned raw garlic into the duke’s mouth.

“This is horrible,” said the duke.

“Yvette thinks it will help.”

The valet wiped the duke’s chin and put the unappetizing
food onto the side table. “Would you like me to leave, my lord?”

“Why are you asking him?” demanded the duke.

Beau smiled. “I think he was trying to ascertain if I wished
privacy to speak with you.”

“Well, do you?”

“I see you must be feeling better.”

The duke struggled to sit. “I haven’t felt well in years,
this is no different. Something I ate disagreed with me.” He turned to the
hovering valet. “Well, go on, man. I don’t need a damn nursemaid.”

“What did you eat?” asked Beau, conversationally.

The duke frowned. “Biscuits with tea, the same as Etienne
and Danvers.”

So it was unlikely that anything his father had eaten was to
blame if it had not affected the others, and surely the servants would have
informed him or Yvette if Etienne had fallen ill.

The valet discreetly withdrew.

“He is concerned about you,” said Beau.

“Who is?”

“Your manservant. You do not need to be so dismissive of
him.”

“He’s a servant,” muttered the duke.

Beau closed his eyes. He didn’t want to argue with the duke.

“What is it, damn it?” demanded the duke. “You are always so
certain you are right.”

Beau shook his head. “When I was in the grave and they were
burying me, I promised God I would come home and make you proud of me if He
didn’t let me die. If it bothers you so much, I will never do any menial labor
ever again.”

“But you have some justification for working like a common
man?” said the duke belligerently.

“I wished to show them that I do not consider myself their
better but their equal. And no man should ever own another man, no matter how
well he keeps him.”

“I don’t own them.” He searched Beau’s face.

“Yes, they could leave, but at great cost. They must stay in
your good graces to continue as your tenants. You have immense power over their
lives.”

“Your sympathies lie too much with the little people.”

“Those years of being shackled and working as no more than a
beast of burden changed me.”

His father sighed.

“I cannot look at those who serve us in any capacity as less
than I. Because there but for the grace of God go I.”

“You were always taught to treat those who serve you fairly
and with politeness,” said the duke. “And what is good for the estate is good
for all who serve it.”

“Papa, any number of the men who worked with me as slaves
could do as well as anyone if they had been born to the ruling class. If they
had been educated and well fed, they could have been great men.” So many of
them hungered for knowledge to better themselves, yet Beau hadn’t appreciated
all that he was born to and the opportunities he squandered.

The duke shifted the covers over his bony legs. “You think
my notions and practices are antiquated.”

“No.” Beau considered carefully his next words. “But the
world is changing. Workingmen are starting to realize the only difference
between them and us is education, opportunity, and wealth. They need lords and
masters less and less.”

“You are right. The world seems mad anymore.” The duke
sighed again. “But men of our stature should direct efforts, not become so
immersed in their execution they cannot see the larger scope of the work
needed. You cannot lead if you are in the middle of the pack.”

Beau fought his knee jerk reaction to dispute what his
father said and let the words turn over in his mind before he responded. He’d
never thought his father stupid, and he was sure the duke had knowledge he
could benefit from learning. “Your point is well taken. I will always strive to
assess and reassess to be certain I do not focus on the minute task before me
but see the entirety of what needs to be done. I will bear in mind that it is
our purview to lead even when it’s likely ordinary men could find leaders
amongst themselves.”

His father opened his mouth and then shut it. He plucked at
the duvet then began again. “Your friend says that the others turned to you in
Saint-Domingue.”

Beau shook his head. “No, I was merely the person with
knowledge. Because even though I rarely applied myself to studies, apparently I
learned anyway.”

“Mazi tells me that most men who went through what you did
would not have survived, but I always knew you were strong willed. Nothing I
did ever served to direct you when you were young.”

Beau smiled ruefully.

“It is because you never should have been born a third son.”
The duke sighed. “Your handwriting is atrocious, but everything you have done
with the estate paperwork is more than I would have expected from a son only
spending a few days learning it.”

“Why, thank you, sir.” Even though the praise was buried
under an insult, it was there. He resisted the urge to ask if a fear of death
had prompted the duke’s faint praise. He’d hoped to improve upon where the duke
failed as a father, but his father had had the entire weight of the duchy on
his shoulders when Beau was Etienne’s age. Was it any surprise he’d had little
time for his sons, especially the third, when the first two also needed to be
educated in running the duchy?

“And you are right,” continued the duke. “I have been unable
to attend to checking the estate in recent years and have had to depend on the
steward’s reports. If his performance has been lacking...”

“Perhaps you did not realize how much of the responsibility
you shouldered on an estate this size. With hundreds of dependents it is more
than one man can manage.” Beau felt as if a thousand pounds pressed him down.
His brothers’ loss was too fresh to him. He couldn’t lose his father now, too.
“And I am not ready to take over, so you must follow Yvette’s instructions.”

The duke rolled his eyes. “A woman shouldn’t be a physician
or healer or whatever she is. Whatever were you thinking when you married her?”

“I was not thinking of her healing skills. I was thinking
she’d make me a fine wife and would not allow me to bend her to my will too
easily.” And earlier when she had made decisions quickly and the servants
followed her instructions with the faith that good leaders inspired, he had
seen that she would be a great duchess one day.

“I thought you married her just to defy me, but I’ll grant you
the pair of you are well matched.”

“I am sorry that I was so rebellious. I deeply regret it
now.”

The door crashed open. Yvette stood in the opening. Her face
was pale, and white rimmed her dark irises. “I cannot find Etienne.”

The duke leaned forward. “What?”

Beau held up a hand, not wanting to excite his father when
he was in a fragile state. “Nothing to worry about.”

But his chest tightened all the same. He stood, crossed to
the doorway, then gripped Yvette around the arm. “Excuse us, sir.”

He didn’t wait for his father’s acknowledgement.

He pulled her out into the hall. “Where have you looked?”

“Everywhere!” wailed Yvette.

Chapter Twenty

A sharp pain stabbed Yvette through the back of her neck to
her heart. Where could Etienne have gone? When she couldn’t find him, she’d run
to Beau.

He snapped his fingers at the nearby valet who was hovering
outside his father’s rooms. “Get Finley to have the entire staff search from
the cellars to the attics. I want everyone looking for Etienne.”

The valet started down the hall.

“Run, man,” directed Beau.

As the valet skittered down the stairs, Beau took off down
the hall and Yvette tripped after him. “He’s not in his room, the schoolroom,
the library, or any other place he would normally go.”

Beau whipped open cabinet doors on a linen press. Piles of
sheets and blankets filled all the shelves.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

Beau looked over his shoulder at her. For a second his gaze
seemed unfocused. “My brothers used to shut me in the linen press.”

“That’s horrible,” she said. “But Etienne does not
have...there is no one to lock him away.” He was the only one of her children
left. She couldn’t lose him.

“He’s probably just exploring one of the unused rooms,” said
Beau, but he didn’t sound as though he believed it any more than she did.
“Where is Danvers?”

“Mr. Danvers said that Etienne told him he was going to meet
his father.”

Beau tilted his head. “But I hadn’t told him to meet me.”

“You had not told him you would take him to ride horses?”
Was he even now lying in a stall, kicked and killed by a horse? She moaned.
Where was her son? “Maybe he went to the stables.”

“Danvers,” Beau yelled as he headed for the nursery floor
stairs. “If he went to the stables, one of the grooms would have seen him.
We’ll find him, Yvette.”

Yvette trailed along behind them, feeling useless yet
grateful Beau was issuing orders and treating it seriously. The first door of
an unused bedroom stood open. On his knees Danvers peered under a bed.

“I’ve checked under every bed on this floor.” His knees
creaked as he straightened to full height, using his hands on his thighs to
lever himself upright. His face was crinkled in concern.

“Cupboards?” questioned Beau, his words clipped.

“Anywhere small enough a boy his age could hide.” His voice husky,
he said, “I’m so sorry, my lord. I thought he was with you.”