Realm 04 - A Touch of Grace (12 page)

Gabriel opened his mouth for a response, but the family physician entered the room on a rush. “You have found him,” the doctor said as he placed his bag on the small bedside table. Bel stood immediately to allow the man access.

“His Lordship has just awakened,” Bel explained as she joined her sisters, who lingered in the open doorway. She caught one of the chairs and assisted Lía to a seat.

Gabriel said as he pushed himself higher in the bed. “I assure you I am fit now.”

Doctor Thatcher busied himself with batting away his patient’s hands. “I will be the judge of that,” he insisted. “Let me see…” But the room went still when the man expelled a noticeable gasp.

“Thatcher?” Lyn demanded as she stepped forward for a better view.

The physician quickly recovered. “Everything is well, my Lady,” he said in an impassionate voice.

Lyn’s shoulders stiffened. “What do you observe?”

Gabriel answered for the man. “When he accompanied you to Scotland, I suspect Doctor Thatcher had not expected to tend a gunshot wound.”

“I am not a surgeon,” Thatcher said in his defense. A gentleman does not…”

Gabriel wished desperately to plant the good doctor a facer. Thankfully, Grace Nelson had fewer qualms about treating his wound or Gabriel would have died in this bed. His Grace had the same type of mettle as what he had observed in the Three Roses. An unconquerable spirit. He wanted to tell Thatcher so, but Gabriel would not mention he had spent the last week with Grace. He would propose to her as soon as he could rid his room of his aunts and the physician. He would not permit the Three Roses to insist on their joining. Gabriel preferred to have Grace willingly choose him.

Mr. Sanders pressed forward. “I am no gentleman, my Lord, but I have seen my fair share of gun wounds. I will tend His Lordship.” Gabriel’s valet elbowed the physician from where the man stood looking down upon Gabriel’s bandaged shoulder. “Allow me to see what damage you sport, Sir.”

Gabriel had liked Frances Sanders from the first day he had met the man. Sanders had served as Carter Lowery’s batman when Sir Carter had been an integral part of Wellington’s forces. When Lowery left the British army behind to join the Realm, he had also parted ways with Sanders. Yet, on a journey deep into the Russian territory, Gabriel and James Kerrington had discovered Sanders and several other former British soldiers being held captive. Kerrington had quickly drafted a plan to extricate their country’s citizens from the militants who held them. Sanders had been in Gabriel’s employ since. He was not the most efficient valet, but Gabriel would never part with the man. Sanders’ loyalty had proven invaluable.

“The ladies should wait outside,” Thatcher cautioned as Sanders peeled away the cloth strips Grace had used as part of Lord Godown’s bandage.

“Do not be ridiculous, Doctor Thatcher,” Lía said from her seat near the door. “We French are accustomed to blood. God only knows we have known enough of wars. I assure you, none of us are likely to swoon from seeing…” She glanced to her nephew. “How many days prior did this happen?”

Gabriel loved her feistiness. Tantine Lía was a woman as lithe and petite as any woman he had ever met, but Heaven help any man who defied her. Even hobbled by a bad hip, she would take a man larger than Gabriel to task. He smiled at her from where he rested on the bed. “Some eight days, now,” he said with a smirk.

“Exactly,” she began again. “I assure you, none of us are likely to swoon from a seeing a wound inflicted over a week prior.” She sniffed her disdain. “Perhaps it is you who should wait below.”

Thatcher colored in embarrassment. “If my services are not required…” He reached for his instruments.

“Leave them,” Sanders ordered without looking up. “I will return them to you when I finish.”

Thatcher paused for a moment before thinking better of going against the man. “I will speak to the proprietor regarding our meals. Should I also arrange for quarters?”

Lyn touched the man’s arm as he started past them. “We meant no disrespect, Doctor Thatcher. Thank you for your kindness.”

The man nodded curtly before passing through the door.

“Now, Mr. Sanders, provide us your learned opinion of our nephew’s wound,” Lía instructed.

“Yes, Ma’am,” the valet answered without looking up. He removed the last of the cloths. “In the tender muscle below the collar bone,” he announced. “Looks clean. Did the bullet shatter before hitting the bone?” He touched the open wound.

“Several pieces,” Gabriel confessed.

Distractedly, Sanders asked, “How many?”

“Four of which I am aware.” Gabriel gritted his teeth as his valet’s rough fingers probed the area. He found he preferred Grace’s tender touch. “Three when it first happen. Another on the second day.”

“Any fever?” Sanders had left off with his examination.

Gabriel sighed in relief. “Five. Maybe six days.” He prayed Sanders would not ask about who tended him.

His valet’s eyes assessed the situation and judiciously avoided the obvious. “You appear well on your way to recovery, my Lord.”

“When may my nephew travel?” the Duchess asked from behind him.

Sanders turned to face the Three Roses. “Perhaps tomorrow. If we take our time in our return journey,” he cautioned.

Aunt Lyn retrieved her reticule and gloves from the nearby table. “I shall go below and make certain Doctor Thatcher has seen to the rooms.”

Gabriel said contritely, “I am honored each of you has rushed to my bedside, but I do not understand how you knew where to find me.”

“The letter, Mon Cher,” Bel said as if it was apparent.

It may have been obvious to his aunt, but not to Gabriel. He turned toward where she held court. It was his Rosabel’s way. She dominated any room she occupied. No matter how many other people resided with her, Bel Murdoch, the Dowager Duchess of Granville, commanded every eye. It always made Gabriel quite proud to know, even at age eight and forty, his aunt was given her proper due. She was an exceedingly handsome woman. Of course, Gabriel thought so because everyone said he favored her. “I have no knowledge of a letter.”

“Someone sent a post to Gossling Hill.” She fished in her reticule to retrieve the missive before handing it to Gabriel.

Without thinking he allowed his fingers to dwell upon the handwriting. Instinctively, he knew Grace had written the note. However, he did not know exactly what had happened to Grace. Had she been in the room when his aunts arrived? Had she taken refuge in the common room below? Would she leave before he could speak to her? Tentatively, he opened the single page. He should not have had qualms over what the letter contained. It was straightforward and businesslike. Grace had explained his condition, where he had taken refuge, and the urgency of the situation. Not one word indicating the intense connection they had made. Had she not felt what he had?

Of course, it contains nothing to give his family notice of what was to come, he reasoned. I had not declared my intentions. Likely, Grace had sent it some three, maybe four, days prior. His fever still raged at the time. Without realizing it, Gabriel breathed easier.

“And do we know the author of the letter?” Bel asked curiously.

Gabriel glanced to the open door. “What is keeping Tantine Lyn?” He noted Sanders had set himself the task of righting the room.

“You are avoiding my question,” Bel accused.

Gabriel countered, “As are you.”

With a snort of amusement, Lía said, “You two are cut from the same cloth.” Turning to her elder sister she continued, “Our Gabriel is a mature male. Likely, he would prefer not to explain to his aunt with whom he has kept company.” To Gabriel, she added, “Lyn has developed an affection for Doctor Thatcher. She is likely smoothing the man’s feathers.”

“That popinjay?” Gabriel frowned.

Lía explained, “Your aunt has remained a widow most of her adult life. If my twin can find happiness with Doctor Thatcher, then I, for one, would welcome him into the family.”

Gabriel grumbled, “She deserves better.”

“A point upon which we agree,” Bel said softly.

Footsteps announced Lyn’s return. “Lía,” she said as she stepped into the room, “I pray you do not mind sharing a room with me. Mr. Bradshaw has only three available. Doctor Thatcher shall take the smallest of those vacant.” She turned to the valet, “Mr. Sanders, I am afraid you must make a pallet on His Lordship’s floor.”

“That be perfectly acceptable, Lady Hyatt. In the war, a pallet in a warm, dry room would have been worth a king’s ransom.”

Bel reached for her gloves. “Perhaps we should permit Mr. Sanders to tend to Lord Godown while we freshen our things. I suppose we must get by with a maid from the inn to meet our needs.” She stood tall. “We may spend time with our nephew a bit later. I am certain Gabriel requires his rest.”

Each of his aunts made her way to the bed. Lía squeezed Gabriel’s hand. “I told them even with an injury you would recover. I save my prayers for miracles until they are truly required. In that manner God does not turn his head when I ask for something special. I said such a prayer for you.”

Gabriel interlaced their fingers. “God answered my prayers by giving me a magnificently resilient family. I am humbled by your love.”

As Lía moved away, Lyn took her place. Although they were twins, the sisters looked nothing alike. Lía: petite, eagle nosed, strawberry hair, green eyes, and a heart-shaped countenance. Lyn: some four inches taller than her twin. Auburn hair, oval face, high brow line, and chocolate eyes. One definitely resembling the Crowdens, while the other their mother’s family. Lyn bent to kiss his forehead. ‘I am thankful you have made a turn for the better. Rest easy. Your family shall be close.”

Gabriel caught her fingertips. “Throughout this ordeal, I thought only of returning to the safety of Gossling Hill.”

Lyn caught Lía’s arm to brace her sister’s step. As they exited, Bel sat on the bed’s edge. “Whoever the author of the letter,” she said evenly, “I am grateful to his insight. I could not bear the thought of your suffering in this room without someone to tend to you properly. We could have lost you, and none of us would have been the wiser.” She openly shivered.

Gabriel’s countenance displayed his sorrow for having worried her. “I will not disclose more than to say I was not alone. Someone–an angel full of grace–saw to my recovery. Otherwise, my fears of never seeing any of you again would have become a reality.”

“Some day,” she said softly, “you must permit me to extend my gratitude to this angel.”

Gabriel returned her steady gaze. “Some day, we will both sink to our knees in appreciation.”

As she stood, his aunt’s gaze fell on something behind him. “What is this?” She reached over him to retrieve a drawing. “Of whom is this a rendering?” Bel thrust the sketch into Gabriel’s hands.

He studied the picture. A man wearing a sling. Scruffy beard. Clothed as a farmer. “I hold no idea,” he said with a knitted brow.

“Give it to me.” She snatched the page from Gabriel’s hand to examine it for herself. “This is the man who was standing in the doorway of this very room when Mr. Bradshaw showed me to your quarters.”

Gabriel’s heart lurched. “He was what?” He took the rendering once again. Studying the picture, he realized he stared at an image of the man who had attempted to kill him. “Sanders?” he ordered. “See what you can discover of this man, but be careful. He is not to be trusted.”

“I understand, Sir.” Sanders folded the page and placed it in his inside pocket before disappearing from the room.

Bel followed his valet’s retreat before saying, “What is all this, Gabriel? Sketches of a man you do not recognize. A man who attempts to enter another’s quarters without permission. An undisclosed angel of mercy who writes to your family of your near demise.”

Gabriel elbowed himself higher in the bed. “Aunt Bel, you know I cannot speak of my work for the government.”

She stood suddenly and began to pace. “You served your six years as penitence for a crime you did not commit,” she declared. “We have lost my dear brother and your most beloved mother to a lie that broke both their hearts. God cannot have you also. I will not tolerate it,” she said adamantly.

“It is not my time,” Gabriel said sympathetically from where he lay on the bed. He hated himself for how his foolish indiscretions had affected his family. Every time he considered how his trusting a woman completely had ripped his future from his grasp, he cursed his very existence. He had learned a hard lesson at Gardenia Templeton’s hand.

“You served your time of atonement,” his aunt declared. “Two years past time to walk away from whatever King and Country has asked of you. No more, Gabriel. You must promise me you will leave this behind. Promise as I promised my dear Renard on his death bed I would see you married and rebuilding the title and the Crowden name.”

Gabriel thought to tell her it was not so easy as simply walking away, especially after someone had made an attempt on his life, but he said, “I recently told Lord Worthing it is time I claim the kind of happiness he has established with Lady Eleanor.”

Bel’s eyes searched his countenance, and Gabriel schooled his expression. “Do you speak the truth?”

Gabriel nodded his agreement. “It is time I marry and set up my nursery.”

“Thank God,” she murmured. It hurt him to witness his aunt’s anguish. He would do his best to place a smile upon her lips. She appeared about to say more. Instead, she said, “I shall check on my sisters. When Mr. Sanders returns, have him inform us of your readiness for the afternoon meal.”

“I will not be joining you for meals,” he cautioned.

Bel’s eyebrow rose in disbelief. “Of course not; yet, you may feel well enough for company.” She turned toward the door.

“Aunt Bel?” Gabriel despised being so needy, but he could not but wonder of Grace’s absence. A glance about the room said nothing of her personal belongings remained. Not her hairbrush on the dresser or her wool socks drying before the hearth. Surprisingly, he missed those little touches when he had opened his eyes earlier. It was amazing how quickly she had found a place in his life. His aunt paused with her hand on the door latch. “Was the stranger the only other person in the room when you encountered him?”