Love Me Again (38 page)

Closing her eyes, Christina leaned her head back and breathed in the sooty, salty air of England and thought she had never smelled anything as lovely. She was once again under the Duke of Kerkston's gentle reach and felt at home already. Feeling a presence at her elbow, she turned to find Helen, who was looking about her with an excited Katie in her arms.

“I never thought I would be so glad to see this filthy city again,” the woman commented wryly as she put the restless puppy down, careful to keep a firm hold on the leash as she began to scamper wildly about, sniffing and barking at any and everything.

Seeing the duke's huge traveling coach pull up, Christina smiled. When the door was opened, she was not surprised to see that it had already been prepared with the benches dropped down to expand out into a bed. Leave it to Edward's staff to be the model of efficiency.

She turned back toward the gangway to see to Robert's transfer into the coach, however, the soldiers seemed to have the situation well in hand as her husband was already on a stretcher and being carried across the plank. For the hundredth time Christina blessed Wellington for his thoughtfulness in providing her such competent men to see to their comfort and safety, and the addition of Henry Mason had been a godsend. She could tell immediately that her husband had been given another dose of laudanum; he was resting on the stretcher with relative calm, looking about himself with dazed disinterest.

Knowing she need worry only about her husband's comfort, she turned her back on the ship and the unloading of their luggage and climbed up into the carriage, settling close beside Robert. She was so eager to see Edward and her son, but she resigned herself to the fact that they were probably still at Kerkmoor, as traveling was too painful for his grace. A few more weeks would not matter much, she convinced herself, and besides, Robert still needed her too much for her to be distracted by her rambunctious son.

Turning to one of the numerous footmen bustling about the carriage, she directed him to fetch the St. Pole's London doctor.

“He is already awaiting you at the town house, my lady,” he assured her as he snapped the carriage door closed and locked it securely. Glancing out the window, she saw Helen escorted to a second coach, and grinned back at the laughing woman, who was holding up the squirming, yapping puppy to show her they were all right and following right behind.

Sighing, Christina turned to check on Robert and was grateful to see that he seemed to be dozing easily. She brushed his hair out of his eyes and leaned down to kiss his forehead, frowning when she felt the increased heat from his flushed face. When would it go away? she fretted as she pulled out her flask and trickled watered brandy past his dry lips.

“Soon, Robert,” she whispered. “Soon you will be home and tucked in your own bed, and then this nightmare will be over.”

She was surprised when his lids lifted slowly and he stared at her. The look in his gaze froze her, for he was looking at her with the eyes of death, she knew it well by now, for she had seen it staring out at her from the hundreds of corpses littering the streets of Waterloo. Bending nearer, she assured him urgently, “Just a little more, my dear, and everything will be fine.”

He closed his eyes and turned his face away from her.

The coach drew up outside the town house. The wheels and hooves sounded muffled, and looking out, she could see that the street had been liberally dusted with sawdust to lessen the noise of the traffic around the town house.

Just as she was stepping down from the coach, the front door flew open and a joyfully squealing boy came hurtling down the steps. She barely had time to open her arms before her son's sturdy body flung itself against her. Hardly believing she was holding her baby, Christina fell to her knees and rocked him in her arms as she cried, holding on tightly as if afraid someone would again wrest him from her.

When she could think straight, she tried to concentrate on his babble, which was not easy as she could barely hear him over the excited barking of his spaniel puppy, which was no longer a puppy but a gangly, flop-eared terror that was bound and determined to join Eddie in her lap. Finally, giving up and laughing joyously, she tumbled backward onto her bottom with a thump that rattled her teeth. Apparently, Helen had also arrived, because Katie now joined the mass of arms and legs and paws that were attacking her.

“Quite a homecoming, wouldn't you say?” an amused voice observed from the top of the steps. When she looked over Eddie's russet curls, she was shocked even more to see Edward, and he was
standing!
She gaped at him in shock, seeing that he was supporting his thin body between custom-made canes that he held in his white-knuckled grip. He looked a bit unsteady, and if it wasn't for the husky footman standing close behind him, observing his grace's every move with an eagle eye, she feared he might topple over.

Still holding her son close, she came to her feet with the help of yet another faithful footman and walked up the steps. “Edward, my God, look at you! You look wonderful. When did this happen?”

Smiling wryly, he looked down at Eddie, who was grinning so widely that he proudly showed off a gap in his front teeth. “This imp of Satan gave me choice. If I was going to keep up with him, he made it known I had best get off my unmentionable and start using my legs again. So here I am.” His expression turned to concern when he saw the utter exhaustion on her face. “You look horrid, my dear.”

Chuckling, Christina shook her head. “Thank you, Edward, and yes, it is so good to be home!” She gave her son a smacking kiss on the cheek that set him off into giggles again. Then, looking down, he pointed at the tiny puppy scampering about.

“Is it mine, Mama?” he asked excitedly.

She loved her son to distraction, but she could not give up Tina's gift. “No, love, but you may play with her to your heart's content. I have enough presents to keep you more than satisfied.” Setting his restless body down, she went to Edward and embraced him, careful not to unbalance him. “Oh, Edward, how good it is to see you again. You have no idea how much I have missed you!”

When she stepped back, he searched her face with a thoroughness that had her squirming as much as Eddie. It was obvious he didn't like what he was seeing, for he began to frown. “That bad, was it?” he queried with gentle concern.

Flinching, she tried to quip lightly, “It was heaven and hell on earth. I am just so glad to be home. But Robert...” She cast an uneasy glance over her shoulder at her husband, whose stretcher was being maneuvered carefully out of the massive coach.

Edward was also watching the transfer of his brother's inert body, and sorrow enveloped him. They had never been close, but seeing him wounded brought a sharp pain to his heart. “Don't worry anymore, Christina. Dr. Elliston is upstairs already, arranging Robert's room to best suit his convalescence. We will see him through this together.”

Still watching her husband, she murmured, “I pray you are right, Edward.”

“Papa?” Eddie's voice came from behind her, and looking down, she saw Eddie standing beside her with Katie in his arms. His huge eyes were on the unfamiliar sight of his father being carried up the stairs. Thankfully a sheet covered his body so that Eddie was spared the sight of his father's true condition.

She heard Edward's voice as a mere whisper beside her. “I thought it best to tell Eddie about Waterloo, and how his father was coming home a great war hero.”

Touched by his thoughtfulness, Christina nodded, then knelt down and drew her son into her arms. “Papa is not feeling too well yet, Eddie, but soon he will be up and around. Then he can tell you all about beating Nappy, and how he saved Wellington's life.”

Instantly awed, Eddie tore his anxious gaze off his father and turned his excitement upon her. “Papa did that? He saved the general?” Wellington had been Eddie's hero since he had gotten his first pewter-cast soldier and had listened raptly to his uncle tell thrilling stories of the Iron Duke's heroism. That his own papa saved his life was thrilling beyond all expectation. Smiling, she eased his grip on little Katie. “He did indeed, my darling. You must be patient and let him get better, and then he will tell you everything.”

Nodding, he assured her with endearing earnestness, “I promise, Mama.”

Brushing his hair out of his eyes, she drank in the sight of him, thinking how much he had grown and how much she had missed. But she was back, and never would she leave him again. With a new spurt of optimism, she decided to believe Edward's assurances that all would be well. Robert would recover, and he still had his political career to pursue. They would be leaving for Kerkmoor soon, and once she was back in that beloved haven her life would be perfect again.

Standing, she took Eddie's hand and began to follow Edward into the house when she paused and looked up at the sky. Wondering where Varek and Sergei were was as much a part of her day as waking up and going to sleep. Which only brought home to her the sad reality that her life could never be perfect without them by her side.

“He will die,” Christina heard as she quietly opened the door. Unnoticed, she paused on the threshold and stared in dazed surprise at the doctor, who was sitting beside Edward in the darkly paneled library. The gloomy shadows about the room seemed to echo the doctor's bleak prognosis.

“The doctors in Brussels said he would probably survive,” she challenged him when she finally found her wits. Leaving the door open, she hurried over to them and stationed herself behind the duke's chair.

Rising to his feet, Dr. Elliston sketched her a bow before shrugging and responding with the resignation of his profession, “'Probably’ was the key word, my lady. It didn't help that he was jostled over rough roads for close to a week before he was able to heal completely.”

Christina's hands gripped the back of the chair, and she looked away from the doctor, feeling guilty down to her soul. If Robert died it would be her fault; she hadn't had the strength to do what was best for Robert instead of bending to his will.

“However, my lady, the amputation was doubtlessly done under the meanest of conditions, which is all too common during war. Infection most often sets in as soon as the filthy instruments touch the skin. There is also lead poisoning, depending on how long they waited till amputation. There are so many contributing factors that it would be impossible to narrow it down to a single reason why gangrene has spread to the degree it has. All I can tell you for certain is that Lord Basingstoke is in a terminal state of infection, and I will not horrify you by going into details. The damage done is irreversible.”

“How long does he have?” Edward asked quietly.

The doctor paused before rendering his opinion. “I would be surprised if he lives past the week. The only thing I would recommend at this point is to keep him heavily sedated, else the pain will be intolerable.”

Christina's fingers clenched about Edward's shoulders, and reaching up, he covered one of her hands with his, his thin fingers holding hers firmly. Swallowing past the thickness in her throat, she asked weakly, “Can we move him?”

Shrugging, the doctor assured her that at this point it wouldn't matter one way or the other. The room was silent for tense moments before Christina announced, “Then as soon as possible, preferably tomorrow morning, we will leave for Kerkmoor. It is where Robert wants to be.”

Edward glanced at the doctor, who again simply shrugged, then agreed, “It shall be as you wish, my dear.”

Without another word to either man, she walked out of the study. Closing the door behind her, she fell back against it and stared up the stairs, wondering how she was going to tell him. Should she? It worried her that she was not crying. She felt numb, so terribly numb that she didn't know what to feel. Rubbing her eyes, she thought how much she wanted to go to her room and lock the door and go to sleep for a week. She couldn't even dredge up guilt for the callousness of her thoughts upon learning of the eminent demise of her husband.

Pushing away from the door, Christina slowly ascended the stairs, thinking that above all she needed to get Robert home, where he could die in peace. She was walking along the upper landing when the walls around her began to waver and shift. Stopping, she reached out a hand to steady herself; then, after a befuddled moment, she continued on. When she reached Robert's door, she paused with her hand on the latch, and suddenly she couldn't remember what she was doing there. In lethargic confusion she looked down at her hand, thinking that she was here to tell Robert something. Closing her eyes, she rubbed at the pounding pain in her temples and the burning behind her closed lids. When she opened her eyes again, she squinted as she pushed open the door and entered the dimly lit room. The first thing she noticed was Robert's labored breathing and as she approached the bed the putrid smell of gangrene became more pervasive in the stale air.

A bit impatiently, she asked Helen, who was sitting at Robert's bedside, to open a window and allow fresh air in. As Helen passed her, she paused to say softly, “He has been calling for you.” Christina gave a nod and asked her to leave. When the door closed softly, she moved to the bed, her lips tightening as she searched Robert's face for some sign of recovery. Of course there was none; instead he appeared worse than he had an hour ago. He was flushed and looked horribly bruised, his eyes sunken and the lids tinged almost black. Then she remembered with brutal clarity, her husband was dying.

She must have made a sound, for his lids lifted slowly, and she watched as he focused on her with difficulty. The smile that stretched his lips appeared painful and almost ghoulish in his emaciated face. Hurrying to his side, she picked up his hot hand. His fingers curled about hers, but his grip was so weak that it was nonexistent.

“I'm dying, aren't I?” his voice wavered weakly.

Biting her lip, Christina nodded. Sighing, his eyes slid closed again, as if it expended too much energy to keep the heavy lids open. Sitting down on the bed close to him, she tried to ease him by saying, “I thought we would go to Kerkmoor tomorrow, if you feel you can bear the trip.”