Lord Grenville's Choice (2 page)

Your devoted brother,

G.

Sealing and franking the letter, he knew of one thing only that would lessen his anxiety—spending a few minutes with his son and heir before he had to go out again. Alex read rapidly through the remainder of his post, finding nothing of significance. He made a stack of letters to attend to, another stack of invitations for Felicity to respond to, and a third stack that he must answer himself. After removing his jacket, he went quickly up the stairs to the nursery, where he found Nanny Owen reading a book to Jack.

“What ho, me hearty!” Alex exclaimed. “What is this you are reading?”

“It is a book about springtime, Papa. About little birdies hatching, and lambs and colts being born. It even has some kittens. May I have a kitten, Papa?”

“There are kittens in the stables, as a matter of fact. I am certain Mama will take you to look at them if you ask her.”

John clapped and then extended his arms. Alex hoisted him onto his shoulders and obediently played the role of horse for several minutes, allowing his son to clutch at his black hair for a mane. Never mind that it had been carefully styled.

“Faster, you slow old horsey!” Jack chivvied him.

“Mind your manners or I shall buck you off onto the ground!”

When the ride was over, Alex sat his son in the window seat and looked into his golden-skinned features. He looked very much like Felicity now that the baby chubbiness was disappearing. His cheekbones were high, his little chin pointed under a small mouth shaped in a perfect bow. Jack’s eyes were particularly large and honey-golden.

“You are a handsome rascal,” Alex said.

“Nanny says I look like Mama. Mama’s not handsome. She’s beautiful.”

He pinched Jack’s cheek. Was Felicity beautiful? Not a classic beauty like Elizabeth, but attractive enough in her own way. Her features certainly became Jack. Who would have thought this engaging scamp could have such a hold on his heart?

“Well, son, you are none too bad to look at, let us say that.” He stood. “And now, I must away. I have business to attend.”

The boy’s face suddenly became thoughtful. “Are you coming with us to Grandpapa’s?”

Startled, he said, “I did not know you were going.”

John nodded. “We are. Even Nanny Owen is coming.”

Alex frowned while something shifted in his chest. Why would his household be decamping to his father-in-law’s? “I must speak to Mama about this. Then I will tell you.”

When he left the nursery, Alex tried without success to find his wife. Norse, the butler, informed him that she had gone out the night before and had not yet returned.

Why had no one informed him? Before he could think, he asked, “Where was she going, Norse?”

“I believe to Lord Morecombe’s house, my lord. A footman in his lordship’s livery came for her at ten o’clock. She left almost straightaway. Her ladyship was most agitated.”

What was this mystery? Between seeing Elizabeth and getting his brother’s news, he was not ready to face anything else today. In fact, it was precisely times like these when he needed his wife. Glancing at his watch, he saw that he must leave at once for Perceval’s funeral at Westminster Abbey.

Stepping out into the street, he signaled a hackney coach. When his head cooled, he realized what he should have seen in the beginning. Perhaps Felicity’s father was ill. Yes, that was it, most likely. His mood softened. He would go to her later. She was terribly fond of her remaining parent.

Realizing suddenly he had come out in his shirtsleeves, he redirected the coach back to his townhouse. Undoubtedly, he should see to his “horsey mane” as well.

Really, it was turning into a very disconcerting day.

{ 2 }

T
he night before, Felicity had hastened up the stairway of her father’s townhouse, past the centuries of family portraits on the landing, down the hallway with its exhibition of Meissen porcelain, up another stairway, and had eventually approached her father’s bedroom.

“How is he?” she had asked the Harley Street physician, Dr. Caldwell, a surprisingly young man with dark red hair and serious green eyes.

“He is still unconscious. I believe he has had a brain seizure. We can only wait to see if he regains consciousness. I must prepare you, Lady Grenville. Even if he does return to consciousness, he may not be able to speak or even move.”

She learned from Glover, the butler, that her father had been found unconscious in his bookroom when he had come to bring him a freshly decanted port. It had only been with the assistance of two other servants that Glover had managed to get her father upstairs to his bed. Footmen had been sent for Felicity and for the physician.

As she spent the night by her dear father’s bed, holding his hand, Felicity was exhausted as much by the strain as by the lack of sleep. The minutes crawled slowly by, the mantle clock striking every quarter hour through the door in her father’s sitting room.

Many thoughts agitated her tired brain.
I have always known that Papa loved me. What shall I do if he dies? So many tiny reminders of his love would disappear along with his presence—the daily bouquet he sends spring and summer from his garden, his reading to Jack the way he used to read to me about all the Greek heroes, the confidence he has always had in me when my own flags. Particularly since this difficult marriage of mine.

When the day dawned, she could not be brought to leave Papa’s side and sent word by footman to Nanny Owen that she and Jack were to remove to her father’s house. She knew Jack would not do well in her absence just as she knew her own spirits would benefit greatly from his presence. They would settle in well in Felicity’s old nursery at the top of the house.

After her father’s condition, her most serious worry was that she was certain Alex was to see Elizabeth this morning. How would she react to his presence? How would he feel when he saw her looking fragile as ever, dressed in funereal black?

Felicity tried to steel herself. She did not even want to imagine what heartbreak might be in her future. She had never thought Elizabeth would actually be
free
. She doubted Alex would even notice his wife was gone from home.

However, after luncheon, which she had taken on a tray, she realized he
would
notice when Jack was gone. She composed another note to Nanny Owen, asking her to inform Alex about her father’s condition before she and Jack departed. She supposed the nanny would think it strange she did not communicate with Alex directly, but just at this moment, Felicity did not think she could tell Alex about her father’s condition herself. He and her father were not close, plus Alex would no doubt be consumed with thoughts of Elizabeth. Picturing his indifference upon reading news of her father’s illness hurt too much for her even to write of it. It was his son’s removal Alex would care about, so let it come from Nanny Owen.

Felicity slid her hand into her father’s once more. It felt dry and smooth, but warm, not lifeless as it had been the night before. She had great hopes that he was going to open his eyes again, and she intended to be there when he did.

Laying her head against her father’s chest, Felicity said, “Papa, I am here. I will not leave you. I promise. Please do not leave me. I could not bear to lose you.”

What a dear, dear man he was. In his current state,his face had no lines upon it. It was unusually placid. Normally, it was marked by humor. Papa still had a proper head of hair, though it was white now, still worn long, though fashions were changing.

When tea was finally brought in, his eyes still remained closed. Even the bracing beverage did not serve to revive Felicity. Worn out from anxiety and lack of sleep, she drifted off with her head on her father’s chest, his heart beating comfortingly beneath her ear.

Felicity was awakened by a little hand lying over hers. Slowly, she emerged from sleep to find Jack standing next to her, his face solemn.

“Oh, darling, how good to see you!” She hugged him fiercely. “As you can see, Grandpapa is not well. I am tending him so that he will get better.”

He looked from his ailing grandfather to her, a humorous expression replacing his look of concern. “Your hair is falling down, Mama, but I am happy to see you. You were not there to have strawberries for tea!”

Felicity realized she had done nothing about her appearance since sometime the day before. Her hands flew to her hair just as she noticed Alex standing in the doorway.

His tall, well-built body was leaning against the doorframe, his hands in his pockets. When she saw him, he straightened. To her concern, his deep blue eyes were shadowed with fatigue. Raising one of his dark, strongly marked brows, he asked, “How is your father doing, Felicity?”

She could tell nothing from his neutral tone of voice. Swiftly removing all the pins from her hair, she said, “The physician believes he had a brain seizure. He is still unconscious, but his heartbeat is strong. I think he will open his eyes soon. I do not want to leave him.”

“You must be very tired.” His face still held no expression.

“Yes. Yes, I am, Alex.”

“Perhaps Nanny Owen and Jack could sit with Lord Morecombe for a few minutes. I would like to speak with you alone.”

Trying to straighten the tangles in her long hair with her fingers, Felicity rose and followed Alex into her father’s sitting room. He closed the door and began to pace.

“Why did you not leave word what had happened with Norse when you left last night? I would have come straightway I got home.”

“Alex, you and Papa have never been close. I did not even think of it.”

“You did not think I might wonder where my wife had gone in the middle of the night?”

“I truly had no idea you would miss me.”

“You cannot be serious,” he said, his eyes sparking with anger. “Is this about Elizabeth, Felicity?”

Anger rushed to her head. “Elizabeth? No! All I could think of was Papa, who was found unconscious and who might be dead by the time I got here! Elizabeth had no place at all in my thoughts.”

“What about when you sent for Jack? Was that not about punishing me?”

“It certainly was not about you at all! I knew he would be disappointed over my missing tea with him today. I have no idea how long I will remain here. I thought it best that he be spared the anxiety of my continued absence.”

“And you still thought not to inform me of your whereabouts.”

“Nanny Owen was given instructions to tell you where I was.”

“You could not spare the time nor the ink to pen a note to me directly?”

“Alexander, I have truly been concerned with my father’s health. It is very precarious, and I would like to return to him this very moment, if you please.”

As she turned to leave the room, he took her arm. “I still think you are ill-disposed toward me because of what you imagine is between me and Elizabeth. Let it go, Felicity. There is another matter about which I am greatly concerned, as it happens.”

She looked up into his face, now marked with a worried frown.

“Whatever is wrong?”

“My brother has been wounded in a great battle that is taking place in Spain.”

Felicity clutched her waist, gathering the fabric of her dress under one hand. “How badly?”

“He makes light of it. It is only his arm, he says. But they are in the midst of battle, and I fear it will not be attended properly. If it becomes inflamed and gangrenous, they will amputate.”

“Oh, Alex. That is worrisome news indeed. Should we send some supplies? Perhaps in such a big battle, they are running short.”

“I knew you would know what to do,” her husband said. “Talk to your father’s physician. Find out what John needs. We will send it ourselves by courier.”

“Yes, it will make you feel better to do something,” Felicity said, putting a hand on his arm. For a moment, he looked down into her face, eyes soft with gratitude. Then he looked away.

“Go back to your papa.”

*~*~*

In the morning, she found Alex sleeping in an armchair he had moved next to the bed.

She moved quickly to her father’s side and found that his eyes had opened.

“Oh, Papa,” she whispered. “You’re awake!”

He looked bewildered and did not say anything.

“It is I, Felicity! Oh, I knew you would wake up!”

Alex stirred. Felicity continued speaking to her father, keeping her voice gentle in spite of her excitement. “You have had a brain seizure and have been unconscious. Will you blink your eyes twice if you understand me?”

Her father responded. She took his hand in hers, but though warm, it was still limp and lifeless.

“You need to rest and get well. I cannot get on without you, Papa, so you must listen to me.”

Alex moved in his chair. “He is awake,” he said with surprise, leaning over his father-in-law’s bed. “Well done, my lord!” To Felicity, he said, “I am sorry I fell asleep. I was to call you if he opened his eyes, was I not?”

“Yes,” she said, avoiding his eyes. “But all is well. And I needed the sleep. Jack is awake if you would like to see him before you go.”

“Throwing me out, are you?” Her husband’s tone was teasing.

“You need a shave quite badly,” she said. “All you need is an eye patch and you could be mistaken for a pirate.”

“I shall have Richards spruce me up. Then I shall go buy linen for bandages. And go on a hunt for honey.”

She felt a dangerous camaraderie between them this morning. How many times had she fallen into this trap of thinking he might actually care for her?

“When is Lord Beaton’s funeral to be?” she asked.

His familiar air vanished as he said, “I shall have to check the
Post
.”

She went back to tending her father, who was looking confused. “Never mind, Papa. Alex and I were talking about his brother, who has been wounded on the Peninsula. I shall be making bandages for him while I sit with you. Now I must order some jellied broth.”

Felicity was almost relieved when Alex left the room.