Forever My Love (Historical Romance) (25 page)

He smiled and kissed her on her upturned nose. "Yes, and you will soon become the Duchess of Chiswick."

She was bewildered for a moment. Preston had been through so much, and she saw hope in his eyes—hope she was reluctant to dash until he had recovered from his brother's death. "In a world that is changing, I am too confused to know how I feel about anything. I would not make a good duchess, you should know that."

His laughter was soft. "Will you turn away from my love just because I am prepared to lay an old and respected title at your feet?"

She pressed her head against his shoulder. "I wish... I wish..."

"What do you wish, dearest?"

"I wish the two of you would leave a man in peace," Damon said in a ragged voice. "Where in the hell am I?" he asked, trying to rise and falling back weakly on the pillow.

Royal moved quickly to stand beside him and reached to take his hand, but he merely scowled at her.

"You are at my house, Damon. I have been so concerned about you, but you are going to be all right," she assured him with relief etched on her face.

The duke laughed as he moved beside her and looked down at Damon. "If your ill humor is any indication, I'd say you are well on your way to recovery."

Damon looked from Royal to Preston, wondering why he resented the fact that they were together. "Why don't the two of you take your flowering reunion elsewhere," he said sourly, wondering which hurt the most—the pain from his wound or the ache in his heart.

The duke took Royal's hand and led her toward the door, where she turned back and glanced at Damon with a look of concern. "Will he be all right?"

The duke nodded. "Men like Damon Routhland don't succumb to a mere bullet, and he would never let a man like Vincent Murdock get the better of him."

"Who is this Mr. Murdock?" Royal inquired.

The duke guided her out of the room. "No one you would want to meet. Offer me lunch, and I'll tell you all about him. I warn you, though, it isn't a pretty story."

"I want to hear everything, Preston."

"I only have two hours before I have to leave for General Clinton's headquarters."

"Must you leave?"

"Regretfully. And I don't know how long it will be before we meet again." He drew her into his arms. "Will you miss me, my love?"

She looked up at him with earnest eyes. "You know I will." The two men she cared about most in the world were under her roof. There was much confusion in her life at the moment, but Preston was the steadying force that would hold her world together. She caught the warmth of his expression.

"It was only thoughts of you that brought me through these last few weeks, Royal."

"I'm grateful you are safe, Preston. I don't know what I would have done if anything had happened to you."

"Does that mean you will seriously consider my marriage proposal?"

"No, I cannot do that. Especially not now."

"You will change your mind," he said softly. "I'll not give up until you do."

As they lunched together, Royal listened, horrified, as Preston told her about Vincent Murdock. "He is a truly evil man. I hope never to meet him."

"Nor shall you," Preston assured her. "If we don't run him into the ground, I feel certain the rebel army will."

25

Damon awoke to an annoying, grating sound. Half in irritation, half in a dream state, he turned his head in the direction of the noise to find a branch of a mulberry tree scraping against the window.

For a moment he frowned with puzzlement, wondering at his unfamiliar surroundings. Then it all came back to him. He was in Royal's house. Apparently Preston had brought him here. Evidently he owed his life to the Englishman, and that did not sit well with him.

With rash impatience he tried to sit up, but weakness overcame him. His wound felt as if someone had just stuck a hot poker to it, and he fell back, groaning in pain.

When the door was whisked open and the housekeeper came bustling in carrying a tray, he only acknowledged her presence with a slight wave.

"Don't think you have to entertain me, Mr. Routhland. I know you aren't feeling up to socializing. I just thought you might like some nice warm broth and fresh cheese to help you get your strength back."

Damon said firmly, his glance showing his displeasure, "It'll take more than your broth and cheese to help me mend. My leg hurts."

"Men are always such bad patients, Mr. Routhland. If you'd seen the gap you have in your thigh, you'd know why it hurts." Alba set the tray down and handed him a napkin. "Would you like me to spoon-feed you?"

His lips curved into a smile. "You can be a hard woman, Alba." With considerable effort, he managed to come to a sitting position while he looked at the thin broth with distaste. "Here, let me have it. I'm perfectly capable of feeding myself."

She stood by with a pleased expression on her face. "See that you eat it all. The doctor says you can have something substantial by tomorrow."

"The English doctor," he said with contempt. "What does he know?"

"He knew enough to help you when you needed it," Alba reminded him. She turned toward the door. "I'll just leave you for now and come back later to collect the tray."

After she departed, Damon shoved the tray aside, then thought better of it. He picked up the cheese grudgingly and bit into it. He was hungry, and Alba didn't appear to be one to trifle with, he mused, taking a spoonful of broth.

After he had eaten his fill and had a cool drink of apple cider, he had to admit he felt stronger. Still, he seemed to tire so easily. He would just close his eyes for a moment, he thought, drifting off to sleep.

***

Damon watched Alba admit Dr. Cummingwood into his bedroom. As the man approached his bed, he set his bag down and smiled at the patient.

"No need to ask how you are. I can see by your color that you've improved in health since last we met. I admit you had me worried for a time."

Damon used the bedpost for leverage and pulled himself to a sitting position. "It still seems ironic to me that you have been sent to see to my health, Doctor. We're on opposite sides, you know."

The doctor placed the lamp so the light fell on Damon's leg. "As a man of medicine, I am bound by an ethical code, Colonel Routhland, which is why I helped you. And, to a smaller extent, because the Duke of Chiswick asked it of me." He smiled. "His Grace seems to value your health more than you do."

"Surely the irony of this situation is not lost on you, Doctor. Here you are patching me up so I'll be well enough to return to my unit and engage your countrymen in battle."

"We are all members of the human race, Colonel. The sooner you soldiers realize that, the easier my job will be."

Damon stared at the man with respect. "Perhaps you are right," he said at last. "Perhaps you should be making this speech to Preston Seaton."

The doctor looked puzzled for a moment. "His Grace is not a soldier and never has been. Actually, his mission here is a diplomatic one."

Damon closed his eyes, feeling relieved. So Royal had been telling the truth about Preston not being in the military.

"I just hope the next time you go into battle you'll think about what His Grace has done for you, Colonel Routhland."

"As a soldier yourself, you know when a man goes into battle, he cannot allow himself to think of anything but victory."

"I know. It has always been so... it will always be so."

"No matter how this war goes, Dr. Cummingwood, it has been my pleasure to know a man like you. No matter that your sympathies lie with the British."

Dr. Cummingwood removed the bandage and nodded in satisfaction at his handiwork. "Your wound is healing nicely. I believe you can put some weight on that leg starting tomorrow morning. Not too much, mind you. Just try to walk to the door and back." He turned to the housekeeper. "See that he doesn't overdo."

Alba nodded. "I'll do that, Doctor."

He wrapped a clean bandage on the wound. When he was finished he extended his hand to Damon. "I won't be seeing you again. My unit is moving out in the morning."

Damon shook his hand. "You have my gratitude for all you have done. I hope for your sake no one finds out you have aided the enemy."

"No one will condemn me for helping you, Colonel. The officers in my unit know the whole story about how you saved the duke's life. They have looked the other way when I made my calls on you."

Dr. Cummingwood picked up his bag and moved to the door. "It's been a pleasure knowing you, Colonel. Try not to get yourself shot in the future."

***

Royal was passing Damon's bedroom when she heard a loud thud and the shattering of glass, followed by an angry male voice. Without pausing to knock, she rushed into the room and quickly discovered the catastrophe. Damon was sprawled on the floor, and the three-legged table that had held his medicine was on top of him. Medicine bottles and a broken washbasin were scattered on the floor.

Damon looked up at Royal with a sour expression. "Well, are you going to stand there all day or help me?"

She averted her eyes because he was naked from the waist up and inched her way toward the door. "I'll just get Tobias to help you."

"Confound it, Royal, come here! I don't relish the notion of lingering here on my back while you fetch Tobias."

She ventured closer. "What happened?"

"I wearied of lying abed like an invalid, that's what happened!" His eyes were blazing. "I have no patience with this."

"Yes, I can see that." She clasped his arm with both her hands and steadied herself by bracing her back against the wall. With a quick intake of breath that alerted her that he was in pain, Damon stood upright. "Lean on me," she suggested, putting her arm around his waist. "We'll get you back to bed where you belong."

"It seems I have no choice," he said, limping toward the bed and favoring his injured leg. "I cannot recall ever being ill a day in my life," he snapped.

When they reached the bed, he eased his weight down and fell back against the pillow. Royal noticed his hand trembled and beads of perspiration had popped out on his upper lip. He was obviously in pain and still very weak.

She placed her hand on his forehead. "You must rest. Promise me you won't get up unless someone is with you."

He looked at the ceiling as if he were trying to ignore the pain. "Why haven't you been to see me this last week? I could have died for all you cared."

She shook her head. "It wasn't out of neglect, Damon. It was proper enough for me to nurse you while you were unconscious, but quite another thing for me to be alone with you after you..." Her voice trailed off because of the sardonic glance he gave her.

Damon's eyes were a golden fury. "It's too late for you to play the innocent with me, Royal. I assume you have been spending all your time with the Englishman."

She bent to pick up the scattered bottles and to right the table, her long hair hiding her face and the indignation she was feeling. "Preston has gone to New York to join General Clinton. I have not seen him since the last time he visited you."

"Lord, don't mention General Clinton's name in my presence," he said. "I'm in a hotbed of enemies with no way to rejoin my unit."

Royal came to stand beside him. "I'm not your enemy, Damon, nor is Preston. He brought the doctor to tend your wounds. Had he not done so, you might not be here today."

"How naive you are," Damon said scornfully, "if you think he did it for me." He rubbed his throbbing leg and faced her angrily. "I can't stay here. Has there been any word from John?"

"No, but I hadn't expected there would be. Tobias told me that Swanhouse is being watched. I'm sure he'll come as soon as he knows you're here."

Damon glanced at her, thinking how lovely she was with an uncertain smile on her face. God, she looked innocent in her white gown and her hair falling around her face like a golden halo.

"Leave me in peace," he said, turning his face to the wall.

When he straightened out his leg, he groaned. "Thank you for your assistance," he said grudgingly. "I am loath to take advantage of your hospitality, but it seems I have no choice in the matter. If it appears that I am ungrateful, it's just that I have a lot on my mind."

"I know that," she said in understanding. "It can't be easy for you, Damon. Please know that you are welcome to stay as long as there is a need. I'm only concerned with your health." She smiled at him shyly. "I have been wanting to thank you for rescuing Preston."

"I don't want your thanks. I did no more than what you asked of me."

"I never wanted you to endanger yourself."

Royal moved out of the room, leaving Damon to stare at the door she closed behind her.

***

Ezekiel Elman ambled up the steps and rapped heavily on the door. He had been concerned about Damon and had made a special trip to Savannah to see how he was faring. He assessed the Bradford house with approval. It was a good, strong house that would last many generations.

When the door was opened, he quickly removed his cap and slicked down his unruly hair before smiling at the lovely young woman who looked at him with a puzzled expression.

"Yes?” Royal asked. "What can I do for you, sir?"

He grinned. "You don't recall me, Miss Royal, but I'm Ezekiel Elman. I was a friend of your pa's."

Her face was transformed with a radiant smile. "Of course I remember you, Mr. Elman. What would we have done for fresh milk and butter if you hadn't made your weekly calls/" She stepped aside to allow him to enter the house. "I also have you to thank for bringing Colonel Routhland to me."

Ezekiel stood before her awkwardly. "That's the reason I've come, Miss Royal. My wife and me was worried 'bout Damon, and so I rode into town to see how he's faring."

Royal tried to ignore the mud that Mr. Elman had tracked all over Alba's rug. She hoped Alba wouldn't notice until after the man had gone.

"Why don't you follow me upstairs and see for yourself? I know he will want to thank you for smuggling him past the British troops."

Ezekiel looked pleased. "Twern't nothing. I owe Damon a heap more than I could ever pay him. When me and the wife was 'bout to lose our place, he loaned us the money to put in new crops and buy more milk cows. Heck fire, I'd do 'bout anything for him!"

Royal smiled at the comical little man. His once red hair was mostly gray now. He was tall and thin and had a scraggly beard that hid most of his face. Still, she thought, he had the kindest, softest brown eyes she had ever seen, and when he smiled his eyes softened even more. "I am finding out that many people owe a debt of gratitude to my guardian, Mr. Elman."

"Did he ever tell you that I taught him to hunt in the swamps?" Ezekiel asked hopefully as he trailed behind Royal.

She paused and looked back at him. "No, I wasn't aware of that. But you see, I have been out of the country for some time, and there is much about my guardian I didn't know."

"Me and the wife was wondering if n you'd come back when the war started, and we was glad to hear you finally had. We Georgians have to stick together. Me, I'm too old to fight." He suddenly looked crestfallen. "I learned that when I tried to join the regulars, and they turned me down. Said seventy was too old to fight!" His eyes blazed with indignation. "Why, Miss Royal, I can shoot farther and straighter than any man I know!"

"You must remember, Mr. Elman, that this country needs its farmers, too."

He nodded eagerly. "That's kinda what I think. We ain't never had any young'ns of our own, so we just think of all the young soldiers as ours and plant more corn to fill their bellies."

Royal smiled as he talked ceaselessly. When she motioned for him to precede her up the stairs, he was still talking. "I have known Damon since he was a boy. When his pa died, he kinda turned to me. You wouldn't think a man of his standing would waste time with the likes of me, would you?"

"Yes, I would, Mr. Elman. Damon is a man who would treasure all his friends."

Royal moved down the hallway and paused before Damon's door. "I'll just knock and see if he's awake." She did so and heard a muffled voice call out.

Opening the door, she stood aside to allow Ezekiel to enter. "Don't stay too long," she cautioned. "He's still weak and needs lots of rest."

Evening shadows were falling before Ezekiel emerged from Damon's room. He passed Royal in the hallway and grinned. "Be seeing you, Miss Royal. Damon's asked me to come by as often as I'm able. He seems in right good health, though he's crusty as an old bear. I 'spect it's from laying abed so long."