Lyn Stone Read online

  “So do I. We’ll go home now and leave Maidstone for another day,” he said gently, lifting the boy into his own saddle. “We’ll ride double, if you don’t mind.”

  Such a small weight physically, such a heavy one otherwise. Guy hardly knew what to do with a little one who was upset, but the boy was in no condition to manage his pony. One of the stable lads could return it later.

  Beau always acted so much the little gent, a body could almost forget he was but seven years old.

  Lily would be furious about this and he could hardly blame her if she was. What had he been thinking, bringing a child along on such an errand? Any fool should have guessed his curiosity would never allow him to remain downstairs where he was put.

  Guy mounted behind the saddle and held Beau firmly with one arm, feeling the boy’s heartbeat fluttering rapidly against his palm. A protective feeling swept over him. This was Lily’s son, a defenseless child. In her mind, Guy’s gravest responsibility. “Your mama’s fine, Beau. You’ll see.”

  The small head nodded, but he heard a sniffle.

  With a silent curse, Guy urged the mare to a gallop.

  As it happened, Lily had no chance to castigate him when they returned. Beau clung to her like a shadow for the rest of the day. Guy had given her a very abbreviated version of what had gone on.

  Lily looked worried, but she kept up a good front before her son, lightening the mood with chatter about ordinary, inconsequential things. After an early supper, she excused herself to put the lad to bed.

  When she had not come downstairs after an hour, Guy went up to see about them both.

  Lily was just exiting the boy’s chamber. She grabbed his arm and urged him down the corridor and into the room just past hers. “Now tell me what really happened,” she demanded when the door was shut.

  Guy sighed, pressing his fingers against his eyelids and wincing. “He witnessed Father in a full-blown fit. It reminded him of the time—” Did he dare mention the picnic Beau had told him about?

  “What time?” she insisted, glaring at him like the outraged mother she had every right to be.

  Guy opened his eyes and watched her closely as he answered. “Apparently he saw some parallels in my father’s behavior and yours the day of your picnic with the Bradshaws.”

  She frowned, obviously puzzled. “Picnic? Oh, the day I fainted?”

  Ah, this would be trickier than he’d thought. “I fear Beau’s description was a bit more vivid than yours.”

  Her eyes widened and she looked stunned. She swallowed hard. “Tell me. What did he say? What did he see?”

  With all his heart, Guy wanted to take her in his arms and tell her to forget it, to banish from her mind anything he had said about it. But that would neither help her nor her son. This needed clearing up.

  “You had a spell of hysterics that day, Lily. Beau said that Clive had to restrain you. They brought you home and put you to bed. Don’t you remember any of it?”

  She was already shaking her head. “No. No, all I recall is falling to the grass. When I awoke, I was in bed at home. A simple faint. That’s what I thought it was.”

  She began to pace, her hands twisting the handkerchief she held. Guy worried that she might experience another episode if he allowed her to upset herself any further.

  He stopped her and pulled her to him, enfolding her in his arms as he’d wanted to do the minute he’d seen her after returning home. “We will sort this out, Lily. That’s what I’m here for.”

  She pushed away and frowned up at him, her beautiful face a study in anger mixed with worry. “I am not a lunatic. I know I’m not!”

  “Of course you aren’t,” he answered calmly, forcing a smile as he gently tucked a golden curl behind her ear. She batted his hand away and turned her back to him.

  His heart seemed to shrivel inside his chest. After all these years of watching his father decline, must he now watch a wife suffer the same fate?

  Not if he could help her, he declared inwardly. There had to be something he could do.

  “I shall sleep in Beau’s room tonight,” she said. “That way I can reassure him if he awakens.” She looked over her shoulder at him, her brow creased with the announcement, as if she expected him to object.

  “Excellent idea,” Guy agreed. What else could he do without sounding like a demanding beast? As badly as he wanted to hold her through the night, she would not believe that was his sole intent. Maybe it wasn’t. “Shall I move him to the trundle so you may have his bed?”

  “No, thank you,” she whispered, looking vastly relieved. In a hasty, almost guilty, gesture of thanks, she approached him and squeezed his forearm. Quickly she rose on tiptoe and kissed him on the cheek. “Good night.” Then she hurried out of the room before he could respond.

  Guy raked a hand through his hair and gripped the back of his neck, feeling the muscles there drawn tight as a drum head. God, he wanted a drink. He knew better than to drown his sorrows, but this occasion seemed to call for a thorough soaking.

  However, he knew he could not afford that escape tonight. Not when Lily might call out to him. Or worse yet, when Beau might wake and cry out that something was wrong with his mother and he needed Guy’s help.

  After he went to bed, Guy lay awake for hours, both doors of the dressing room that separated the bedrooms standing wide open so that he could listen for sounds of trouble.

  That morning he had wanted time to think. Now he had entirely too much of it.

  Chapter Nine

  Lily spent most of the night trying to recall exactly what had happened at that picnic. She did remember how Beau had hovered around her that evening after she’d recovered from what she had thought was a fainting spell from too much sun.

  Flashes of memory did surface, but they were indistinct, as in a strange dream. She must have consigned the entire episode to being that very thing and thought no more of it.

  Now she worried, about herself and also about Beau and that day’s effect on him.

  This morning as her son awoke to find her sitting in the chair beside his bed, enjoying a second cup of coffee, he looked vastly relieved.

  “Good morning,” she said cheerfully, offering him her brightest smile.

  “Are you well today?” he asked in a small voice.

  “Of course, darling, never better. But I can see that you’re still worried. Shall we talk about your visit to Edgefield?” she asked conversationally, sipping her coffee and smiling. “I believe that’s what upset you?”

  He wriggled off the bed and stood beside her chair. His fingers toyed with the lace on the sleeve of her dressing gown. “Duquesne’s father frightened me,” he admitted.

  “I should think so,” she replied evenly. “Whenever someone exhibits behavior we don’t understand, it does give us a turn.” She paused, brushing the golden curls off his brow. How she wanted to take him onto her lap and hold him close as she had when he was younger, but he would surely resist. He was growing up so quickly. “Did I frighten you the way the earl did, Beau? Tell me what happened that day at the picnic.”

  A sound at the doorway caught her attention and she turned. Guy stood there, leaning against the opening.

  Beau glanced from one to the other.

  “Go ahead, dear,” she said to Beau. “It’s all right.”

  “We had only just gotten there,” he began hesitantly. “You were sitting on the blanket and then you lay down. I thought the sun must be making you sleepy.”

  Guy entered the room and quietly sat on the edge of the bed, folding his arms over his chest. “What were your uncle and grandmother doing?” He looked expectantly at Beau.

  Beau’s trust in her husband was evident as he continued. “Grandmother was telling Sandy to put out the food and dishes and make ready to eat. I don’t believe she noticed you at all. Uncle had walked down to the water, to watch some swans, I think.”

  “So none of you had yet eaten or had anything to drink?” Guy asked.

  Be
au shook his head.

  “Where were you?” Lily asked.

  “Sitting near you, fixing the sail on my boat.” His eyes grew wide. “You made a cry and began to thrash about, and everyone came running, the ones who were not already close by. You leaped to your feet, making that very strange noise in your throat.” He cast a nervous look at Guy. “Much as his lordship did yesterday. Then you ran to the pond, swinging your arms about as if being chased, though you weren’t. Uncle grabbed you quick to save you splashing into it.”

  Lily was too appalled to speak. She looked to Guy for help, for some explanation.

  His attention seemed fixed on Beau. “Then what happened?” he asked.

  Beau swallowed hard, his gaze on her, and bravely went on. “You struggled with him, but he lifted you anyway and carried you to the buggy. Grandmother and I dashed after you both. You had fallen asleep when I climbed in. Then we all came home. I was sent here, to my room, and ordered to stay. They put you to bed and locked the dressing room door between us so I would not go in and bother you.”

  Guy unfolded his arms, smiled gently and laid a hand on Beau’s shoulder. “But I’d wager no lock could keep you out of here, eh?”

  Beau beamed up at him. “No, sir. I have Father’s key. The moment I heard them leave, I went in and stayed until Mama woke up.” His little chin jutted out. “I wasn’t scared then.”

  “Got over it when it counted,” Guy said with an appreciative nod. “Very enterprising of you with that key, and quite the thing to do, looking after your mother. It’s exactly what I would have done in your place.” He was obviously highly pleased with Beau’s disobedience.

  Lily was simply glad they were in league to protect her at all cost. If that meant Beau disobeying his grandmother, so be it.

  Guy stood and scooped up the clothes Beau had discarded the night before. “Allow me to be valet this morning, Bradshaw. It’s gone on nine o’clock and you’re still in your nightshirt.” He held Beau’s breeches so he could step into them. In a trice, her son was dressed and busy pulling on his boots.

  Guy placed his hands on his hips and leaned forward slightly. “Now what say we have some breakfast? I daresay your mother would like to complete her toilette without her gentlemen observing. Do you suppose we could cozzen a bit of porridge from Cook?”

  “Porridge?” Beau made a face and a rude noise, his preoccupation with her condition obviously forgotten for the moment.

  “Perhaps black pudding then?” Guy suggested, herding Beau toward the hall door. He winked at her over his shoulder.

  Beau pretended to gag, then giggled as he and Guy went down to breakfast together.

  Lily shook her head in wonder at how easily Guy had distracted Beau from his worries. She blessed him for that.

  If only that would work for her, as well. But it seemed something was dreadfully wrong with her, after all, and her fright nearly equaled Beau’s.

  Lily could not recall drinking anything immediately before the seizure or whatever she had experienced that day. So how could she have been drugged? It made no sense.

  Could she have been wrong about Clive’s motive for taking her to Bethlem Hospital? Perhaps her actions at the picnic and then later at the soiree really had convinced him that she needed to be committed. Perhaps those bottles Brinks had for her really had contained medicine meant to calm her hysterics.

  Were the insane ever aware that they were?

  She must ask Guy. He would know if anyone did.

  Guy’s heart ached for Lily, for Beau and for himself. For too long, he had avoided involvement in anyone else’s problems because it had been all he could do to manage his own. Even now he wondered whether he would have taken on this responsibility if he had been aware it would become more than a matter of mere physical protection.

  The small hand holding his gave it a tug. He looked down into the lad’s wide, trusting eyes.

  “Thank you for coming here,” Beau said.

  Guy’s doubt disappeared. He forced a smile. “Certainly, Bradshaw. Where else would I be?” Knocking about London, up to no good, doing whatever was necessary to gain a few groats and maintain the status quo, that was what. No way to live.

  At least he could do some good here now that he had put his mind to it. And his heart into it, too, he thought wryly. The old pumper seemed quite full at the moment even if it did ache like a sore tooth.

  After breakfast, when he had Beau settled with his lessons, Guy went down to the library to compose two letters. The time had come to call in favors.

  He needed Smarky here right away, even if he hadn’t completed his investigation in London. For a fair price, the man would stay and be more vigilant than anyone Guy could hire locally. And though it would doubtless take a fortnight to get Thomas Snively down from Edinburgh, Guy would explain the problem in brief and send for him, too.

  If Snively could not leave his post at University to come himself, he would surely send someone with more expertise than old Dr. Ephriam.

  Guy knew that his father was a lost cause, but Lily was not. He would not let her be. Perhaps if someone had intervened in the earl’s treatment early on, he could have been saved.

  At thirteen, Guy had been too young to know what to do, but a few years later he had employed an eminent London doctor. By that time, he had been assured, there was nothing to be done but to keep the patient comfortable, protect him from himself and dose him with laudanum to calm him after one of his spells.

  Guy decided he needed to go further afield in this case and locate the best physician to be had to evaluate Lily’s true condition and exhaust every possibility of finding a cure for it before she grew worse.

  “Good morning again,” Lily said as she swept into the room, lighting up the place like a sunbeam. Guy stood immediately and returned her greeting with a smile of frank admiration.

  The butter-colored morning gown that molded her figure rustled as she took the chair that faced the desk and arranged her skirts. A small confection of white lace and ribbon adorned her carefully styled curls, disguising the fact that her hair was hardly longer than his finger.

  He ached to touch the wayward ringlets that had escaped their confines, to trace a path over the bloom of her cheek with a finger and caress those rosy lips, kiss them as he had done the night before last. Strange how she could arouse him to fever pitch without even trying.

  “I came to thank you for distracting Beau earlier and for looking after him.”

  Guy shrugged off her gratitude. “He balked at the assignment I gave him after breakfast, but began it nonetheless.”

  “I peeked in. He was so engrossed, he never noticed me. Latin phrases, perhaps?” she teased.

  He laughed with her. “Letters. His penmanship leaves much to be desired.” He glanced down at the desk and made a face. “A fault we share, so it seems.”

  “Ah, but practice makes perfect. Someone should have held a rod over you, though I cannot imagine that happening.”

  Guy could not for the life of him equate this vibrant young woman with the one who could supposedly lose her reason and wits on the instant. But then, he could still recall how strong and imposing his father had been at one time.

  She glanced at the desk and the pages lying beneath his pen. “Am I interrupting your correspondence?”

  “Not at all. I’ve finished,” he assured her. He decided to be totally honest about what he was doing. That, in itself, was out of the ordinary for him, used as he was to concealing his intent to others. But Lily was his wife and this concerned her, more than anyone.

  “I’ve written to a physician in Edinburgh in hopes he will travel here and give us his opinion.”

  “Someone you know well?” she asked, resignation in her eyes.

  “Very well. We worked together for months when I was investigating a case in Scotland and became quite good friends.”

  “What sort of case?” she asked politely.

  “Murders. Several done by the same man. Thomas Sni
vely had treated him as a patient and helped me to locate him.”

  “A madman,” Lily guessed, looking away as if she couldn’t face him.

  Guy sighed. “Yes. Thomas is very accomplished in matters of the mind. He has made that his specialty and even teaches it at University. He’s widely read and well traveled, always with the goal of learning more in his field.”

  “Then we shall welcome him when he comes. Perhaps he can help,” Lily said without enthusiasm.

  Guy wanted so much to take her in his arms and tell her he would solve everything. Somehow, he felt she would not be all that receptive after being told what was commonly called a mad doctor was coming to treat her for lunacy.

  “Also, I plan to have a friend of mine come down from London as added protection for Beau,” he said, hoping to shift the subject. “His name is Smarky O’Rourke.”

  A frown creased the smoothness of her brow. “Smarky? What an unusual name.”

  “He’s an unusual fellow.” Guy sat down, folded both missives and addressed them.

  “George will post those for you,” Lily said, her voice and her expression subdued. “Shall I ring for him?”

  “I’ll ride to the posting station and do it myself,” he declared as he sealed the letters. That would give him a chance go by the dowager cottage to see if Lily’s in-laws were still there. He hoped to discover they had changed their minds after what had happened and gone on to London. If not, he meant to put the fear of God into the both of them if they were to stay on the estate.

  An hour later, after having a word with the butler and footman to keep an eye out for trouble while he was gone, Guy cantered down the lane to the cottage, if one could call it such. It was a square, two-story stone structure, roughly one-third the size of Sylvana Hall, a charming place that some former baron had built with his sainted mother in mind. Saintly certainly didn’t fit Bernadette, he thought with a grimace.

  He dismounted and walked up the front steps. Before he could lift the knocker, a young man opened the door. When he saw Guy, he stepped back. “Sir?”