Lyn Stone Page 17

  The remnants of religion in his soul surprised Guy a little. They had lain dormant for a very long time. Lily’s father must have had a stronger impact on him in church than he had thought.

  “Did you see her? How is she?” Bernadette asked Clive.

  He tossed his gloves on the table by the door. “I only spoke with Duquesne. He’s so outraged, I was lucky to escape with my face intact.”

  “He wouldn’t dare touch you,” Bernadette assured him. She tapped her finger to her lips thoughtfully. “Do you suppose that anger of his could be due to worry? He can hardly help being upset after discovering his wife truly is mad.” She smiled. “I was quite beside myself when I first saw her in a fit. Weren’t you?” She fanned herself with her hand. “I’m still a bit faint.”

  Clive snorted inelegantly and smoothed his hair back from his forehead. “Do try to bear up, Mother. Perhaps you should send for the doctor.”

  Bernadette airily waved away the suggestion and reached for the bell cord. “No need to trouble Augustus today. I’ll simply ring for Evan to bring me a sherry.”

  “Is that my cue to ride out again?”

  Bernadette gave him a coy shrug. “You do whatever you like, darling. All I want is for you to be happy.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Guy paced impatiently while Dr. Ephriam made his assessment of Lily’s condition. She had insisted on greeting the doctor in the parlor and then asked Guy to await them in the library.

  Dressed in a pale blue morning gown, her sunny curls modestly confined in a delicate little halo of lace and ribbon, she had appeared in perfect accord with her role as noble wife and mother.

  He remembered her in scruffy, borrowed men’s attire and smiled to himself. Her entire personality seemed to change when she had donned skirts. Both Lilys were perfectly fascinating. Whether swaggering about, daring him to marry her or sitting quietly as the most circumspect lady, there was an indefinable quality within Lily that intrigued him. More than one quality, come to think of it, not the least of which was her inner strength.

  Today, however, that strength was what mattered most. If she experienced any trepidation at having her sanity closely questioned, she wisely concealed it. Guy felt tremendous pride in her composure under duress.

  She showed no outward signs of unease when the doctor arrived, though shadows of exhaustion still lay like small bruises beneath her eyes.

  He had been beside her the entire night in the event she woke and needed him. She had slept like the dead, causing him to lay a palm on her chest several times to reassure himself that she still breathed. He’d felt tremendously relieved when she had finally opened her eyes and spoken to him this morning.

  He should have discussed with her then what she might expect when Ephriam arrived. Guy wished he had helped her to prepare for it. Now here he was, wringing his hands, seriously considering interrupting.

  Just then Ephriam entered the library and carefully closed the door behind him. “I have finished my evaluation,” he declared.

  “Then you see that my wife has quite recovered,” Guy said.

  “She appears lucid,” Ephriam agreed with a sniff. A short, rotund, balding man of near sixty, nattily dressed, the doctor wore his usual tight-lipped expression of self-importance.

  How did one “appear lucid”? Guy wondered. They were either lucid or they were not, and Lily certainly was.

  Though they had been acquainted almost all Guy’s life, he had never really liked Ephriam. Their association was merely one of expedience. Ephriam was the only doctor in the county willing to visit the earl regularly at home. That might bear rethinking.

  “Where is Lily?” Guy asked.

  “Gone to her room,” the doctor assured him. “I gave her something to keep her calm and prescribed plenty of bed rest.” He shook his head and sighed. “My guess is that she’s not had much of that of late.”

  The statement gave Guy pause. He remained silent.

  Ephriam cleared his throat and avoided Guy’s gaze. “It would be wise if you did not trouble her overmuch with marital relations in the future.”

  Guy stifled the urge to order the pipsqueak out of the house. The reason for Lily’s lack of rest had nothing to do with lovemaking. Except for the once, and that had not lasted long enough to tire anyone.

  However, something like guilt nibbled at Guy and prevented his lashing out. “So you believe this would exacerbate her condition?”

  Ephriam nodded. “I fear so. She’s already in a highly excitable state.”

  Small wonder after enduring an abduction, worrying about her own and Beau’s safety and committing to a marriage of desperation. But she had not let that show this morning, had she? No, she had been perfectly calm and in control when he had left her with the doctor.

  “You see,” Ephriam continued, “conjugal relations most likely bring to mind her…inability to give you an heir.” One bushy black eyebrow rose as if to ask whether Guy knew about that. “That deficiency alone could cause hysterical behavior in a woman.”

  “Deficiency? I would hardly call it that,” Guy scoffed. “Lily need not give me an heir. She is fully aware that I already have one.”

  Ephriam appeared surprised. “Who?”

  “Her son.”

  “But…the lad cannot inherit your title as viscount or the earldom after your father passes it on to you,” the doctor reminded him.

  Guy shrugged. “The titles will abate at my death, that’s true. But the Edgefield estate is not entailed and will double his property. Beau is already a baron in his own right, as you well know.”

  Silence reigned for a moment, then Ephriam sighed. “Well, do keep in mind your wife’s welfare if you will.”

  “Always. Thank you for coming,” he said by way of dismissal.

  They were both still standing, so the doctor turned to go. He stopped after he had opened the door. “You have not asked my projections on the eventual state of Lady Lillian’s mind and whether she should be confined.”

  “No, I have not.” And Guy did not intend to ask. He would wait for someone with more expertise and more tricks in the bag than a quart of laudanum. “This concludes our discussion, Doctor. Good day.”

  Ephriam frowned, then left without another word.

  Guy immediately went up to Lily, anxious to reassure her that he would make no further demands on her if it troubled her. Perhaps she had been afraid to broach this matter with him and had asked the doctor to intercede for her. She had rather wistfully mentioned her wish to have another child immediately after they had made love.

  When he arrived at her room, he found her curled in a chair, engrossed in a book. She looked up as he entered and smiled. “So, what did the esteemed doctor have to say behind my back? Am I to have bars on the window and no knives at table?”

  Guy crossed the room and sat on the side of the bed. “You sound chipper. But how are you feeling, really?”

  “Much better,” she declared, setting the book aside. “Though I am convinced our doctor is grasping at straws. He believes me weighed down by responsibilities to the extent that it has caused hysterics. Women are so weak, you know.”

  Guy smiled and shook his head. “Women are the stronger gender by far. Any man who refutes that truth is a fool. Anyone who could overpower a guard, escape Bedlam and brave London streets in the middle of the night the way you did is no weakling. You are very strong, Lily. Strong, clever and decisive.”

  Lily pursed her lips, her fingers tented beneath her chin. “And very probably mad. Until the fete at the vicar’s, I believed Clive had given me something in my food to make me behave as I did at the soiree and at the picnic. Something had to be at fault other than a loose connection here.” She tapped her temple with her finger. “However, Clive was not present at the vicar’s cottage.”

  “His mother was,” Guy reminded her.

  Lily inclined her head and blew out a gusty sigh. “Yes, I know, but I never saw her leave her chair before I…”

&
nbsp; “Someone else could have tainted your food. You did eat or drink something, didn’t you?”

  She stood to pace, cradling herself with her own arms as if she needed warming. Her frown told him she was replaying the scene. Then she answered, nodding. “Yes, but so did everyone else. It was not the best fare I’ve ever had, but they had the same fare that I did and none of them collapsed in a fit.” She turned and met his gaze with one of intensity. “Did they?”

  “None that I know about,” Guy admitted, but he wasn’t ready to dismiss her former suspicion, one that he had shared, believed in and counted on. “We will get to the root of this, Lily. I’ve told you that I sent for a doctor, a friend whom I trust, to evaluate you. Unfortunately, he will only have gotten my request today at the earliest. It could be a week or so before he arrives from Edinburgh.”

  “Has this doctor seen to the earl?”

  Guy felt a stab of guilt for not having thought to do that since meeting Thomas Snively. Truth be told, Guy had not seen the need to impose on his friend for a diagnosis that was well established and documented by two physicians. “No, but I had the best out from London a decade ago and they concurred with Ephriam’s diagnosis.”

  “I see. Suppose this doctor validates what Dr. Ephriam says of me?” Her voice trembled a bit as she asked.

  He knew her worry. It was his own worst fear for himself. “I will never send you away, Lily. You have my word.” He stood and opened his arms. She walked into them and Guy embraced her fiercely, hoping to reassure her that she would never suffer anything alone again.

  Her warmth felt so right against him, so necessary. He felt so much more than desire for Lily, more than admiration of her courage, and something far more compelling than his vow to protect her.

  He wanted to tell her now that he loved her, but he knew she would think it was sympathy, maybe even pity, that made him say it. What if it was? He had to consider it. God only knew he did sympathize with her.

  His embrace grew even more fervent, desire the last thing on his mind. She was his now. His to keep and keep safe.

  Later in the day Lily grew weary of the constant vigil kept on her. “I feel like one of Beau’s bugs in a bottle,” she complained to Guy when he looked in on her. He returned almost every hour on the hour, probably to see whether she had lapsed into another of her spells.

  “A very pretty bug,” he said with a smile. “Are you bored?”

  She tossed aside her knitting, not caring if the yarn tangled. “This is not how I mean to spend my days, like a…an invalid. I’m fine now,” she assured him, meeting his eyes directly. “Do you really think it’s necessary for me to remain cooped in my room until this fellow you’ve sent for arrives?”

  “No, of course not. That could be weeks.” He walked over, crouched beside her chair and took her hand in his, examining her nails. She had trimmed them all to the quick since she had somehow broken several in her struggles yesterday. “I suppose you’ve rested sufficiently.”

  Lily pulled her hand from his. His merest touch unsettled her, incited wicked thoughts, reminded her of more intimate caresses. She clutched her hands together to erase the tingling. “I would like to ride.”

  “Lily….” He sighed heavily. “I cannot in good conscience allow you to perch on a sidesaddle and risk tumbling off.”

  She whirled on him, angry. “I have never fallen from a horse in my life!” But she might if she suddenly collapsed as she had done yesterday. As loathsome as she found the possibility, it did exist. “Very well. I shall settle for a stroll in the garden. Surely you can’t object to that. If I sprawl witless among the weeds, at least I shan’t break my neck.”

  He looked chastened and she felt awful for spending her fury on him when he had nothing but concern for her. Besides, the woebegone expression did not suit his features.

  She forced a bright smile and held out her hand. “Come with me, then. You can hold the basket and supervise me while I cut blooms for the table. Unless you no longer trust me with sharp tools.”

  His frown deepened. “This is not like you, Lily. This…bitter self-deprecation.”

  She raised both eyebrows and made a face at him. “Haven’t you heard? I am not myself. I am the infamous madwoman of Sylvana Hall.”

  “If I were you, I wouldn’t try to act the part. Some people might believe it.”

  Her mirthless laughter sounded a bit mad, even to herself. “They already do. You, in particular. Beau does, surely. The servants will have heard what happened at the vicar’s house and the result of that, and I can’t think they would have drawn any other conclusions. News travels this county with the speed of a gale-force wind.”

  He had drawn himself up to full height, clutching her hand almost painfully tight. “I do not believe it.”

  But he did, or he was extremely worried that it might be so. She could see it in his eyes. Tearing her gaze from his, she yanked her hand free and plopped back down in the chair, suddenly weary and dejected, totally uninterested now in a stroll or anything else that involved leaving the room. She folded her arms across her chest and leaned back. “Go, just go.”

  “And leave you like this? I can’t, Lily. I won’t.”

  She puffed out her cheeks and blew out the breath she was holding. It was unreasonable to hold him to blame. “Go ahead. I promise I will take some of the tonic Dr. Ephriam left and go to sleep, so you needn’t worry.”

  “Tonic?” He glanced around the room and saw the brown bottle on the table by her pitcher of water. “Laudanum,” he said.

  “I expect so. I haven’t taken any yet.”

  He marched over, took the bottle off the table and opened it. Then he sniffed it, stoppered it again and put it in his pocket.

  “What are you doing?” she demanded.

  “Preventing your getting caught up in the endless cycle that controls my father,” he snapped. His eyes flashed when he turned to her. “If you have any further digressions, we’ll weather them without this. I will hold you until you are calm.” He gave a sharp pat to his pocket. “Opiates are vile, Lily. I have seen what they can do. If you experience intolerable pain for some reason, this might be worth taking, but I will not allow you to dose yourself merely to escape boredom.”

  “Thank you, Dr. Duquesne,” she muttered with a roll of her eyes.

  “Get your bonnet and scissors,” he snapped.

  She heaved herself out of the chair and marched over to confront him, hands on her hips. “You, sir, are becoming an overbearing bully!”

  He grasped her by her shoulders and kissed her soundly on the mouth. Shocked, Lily froze, then thawed immediately when fire zinged through her veins.

  His mouth was so hot, encompassing hers, teasing her lips open, plundering shamelessly. She threw herself into the kiss, loving the taste, the feel, the scent of him. If only he would… Suddenly he stopped the kiss and pulled away from her, leaving her breathless and a bit dizzy.

  “I’m the bully you chose, remember? Now get your damn bonnet and let’s go!”

  Furious and not entirely certain why, Lily stalked over to the dressing room and grabbed a wide-brimmed hat, slamming it down on her head with greater force than she’d meant to. “Now would be the time to have a full-blown fit. It would serve you right,” she muttered under her breath.

  The fear that she might do precisely that, and that he would think she had control over it and would use it purposely, kept her from shouting the words out loud.

  “That’s quite a temper you have there,” he commented as he escorted her down the stairs. She could swear he was amused, though he wasn’t smiling. She looked closer. He was carefully not smiling.

  At least she knew anger didn’t trigger her episodes. She would never admit it to Duquesne, but their set-to had energized her. She felt much better, except that she could not forget that kiss. Her ready response to it troubled her. He made her feel wanton, wicked and wild. What did that mean?

  A sane woman would have pushed him away and slapped
his face for such rough insolence. Or would she?

  She had to wonder if Guy would greet every confrontation in that manner. Lily was appalled to find herself searching her brain for reasons to confront him again. Tonight, perhaps.

  Chapter Thirteen

  As they walked in the garden, neither of them had much to say, both lost in their thoughts. Lily tried hard to conceal how concerned she was about his opinion of her. Despite what he said, she knew he doubted her sanity. She had begun to doubt it herself. At the moment Guy seemed more concerned about the question of what to do with her, rather than in determining whether Clive had a plan afoot to commit her.

  Was Dr. Ephriam in collusion with Clive? And was their motive truly Clive’s greed to gain control of or eliminate her son? Or did they truly believe her mad and that they were doing the right thing by her and Beau?

  Regardless of her own state of mind, Lily knew she could never surrender her care of Beau to the Bradshaws. Even if their intent was not evil, they would ruin him. She shuddered to think he might become the sort of man Clive was, or absorb any values or behavior from his conniving grandmother. Jonathan’s only saving grace had been the fact that his father had insisted on his going away to school at the age of seven.

  Suddenly she turned and hugged Guy with all her strength. “Promise me you will keep Beau safe from them.”

  “That vow was made, Lily,” he told her gently. “The moment you became my wife.”

  Though they had not discussed it, Lily knew that Guy worried he might one day succumb to his father’s malady and be unable to carry out his promise to her. Suppose they both landed in custody and left Beau vulnerable before he was old enough to manage his own affairs? That possibility must be taken into account.

  “Excuse me, my lady, my lord.”

  Guy released her from the embrace and answered the interruption. “Yes? What is it, Lochland?”

  “A messenger, milord, a groom from Edgefield.”