A Desperate Wager (19 page)

Nate poured the cold water from the pitcher into the bowl and splashed his face with the refreshing liquid. It must be around two o’clock in the morning. For hours he had sat tying and loosening the tourniquet, and eventually Mrs Jenkins had announced that the wound had stopped bleeding for the most part. It had been re-bandaged and, apart from a few murmurings caused by pain, Sarah had not awoken.

He had then sent the staff to bed despite a number of protests. Mrs Jenkins had stated there would be a footman and a maid on duty all night and he just needed to ring the bell if her or their mistress needed anything.

He needed a drink if truth, be told but Sarah would hate to wake to find the smell of spirits on his breath. And he would not upset Sarah for love nor money. Not in her delicate state. If she pulled through, he would promise never to touch spirits again.

“
Natha….” He turned at the croaky voice from the bed. “Nate.”

“
I am here, my love.”

“
Thought you left.”

“
No, my darling. I went to find who shot you, but they got away.”

“
Oh!” Her face screwed up. “Oh God! So sore.” He caught her good hand before it wrapped around the bandage and disturbed the wound.

“
I shall get the laudanum.”

“
Oh God,” she wailed. “Ow!” The noise ripped through his heart as he held to her one good hand and reached for the bell pull. She was half wailing, half crying, trying to tug her good arm out of his grip. But even in her distress she was no match for his strength, though it was a near thing at one point.

Once the bell had been rung, he pulled her against his chest, giving her no chance to pull at her injured arm.

“No! Hate you!” she wailed as he shushed and rocked her. She slapped her good hand against his arm but he barely felt it.

“
Shh, sweeting. Hush now!”

“
Hate you!”

“
I know, but you shall thank me one day. I hope.”

The door opened and Mrs Jenkins walked in holding a small tincture bottle.

“I brought laudanum,” she said simply.

“
Thank you. She’s delirious and in terrible pain.”

“
I see,” said the housekeeper, her gaze sweeping across the scene. “Well there is nothing else for it, Your Grace. You need to pull her head back, I shall open her mouth and pour the tincture in.”

Nate scowled.
“You mean the way you would administer a tincture to a sick dog?” Sarah was not an animal. Caesar suddenly appeared at the bed, as if the name of his species was being taken in vain.

Mrs Jenkins nodded apologetically.
“Just a little at a time so she doesn’t choke.”

He pressed on her brow, forcing her head back
, and the housekeeper determinedly tugged open Sarah’s mouth and poured a few drops in. She shut it, allowing the young woman to swallow before repeating the procedure five more times. Caesar whined.

“
Quiet, Caesar,” growled his master. The dog whined and moved back to his spot at the foot of the bed to keep ‘watch.’

“
That should suffice,” said Mrs Jenkins, looking grimly at her mistress. “She looks pale. She needs fluids.”

“
Of course she is pale. She was shot,” Nate snapped.

“
I shall bring up tea and wine. We shall try to get her to drink once the laudanum has kicked in enough, if she is still awake.”

Sarah still wailed against his chest and he continued to rock her.

“Good idea.”

Mrs Jenkins bobbed a curtsey and hurried from the room. And Nate sat, rocking his wife as her wails turned to sobs, which in turn turned to hiccups and sniffles.

Ten minutes later Mrs Jenkins returned with a footman carrying a tray laden with tea, sandwiches, cakes and wine. The footman bowed and left while Mrs Jenkins fussed. Nate eased Sarah back against the pillows. She was awake but drowsy. She was definitely still in pain, as it creased her features. And the laudanum made her green eyes glassy and unfocused.

“
Nate?”

“
I’m here.”

She chuckled.
“I know. I can see you. What happened?”

“
Someone shot you in the arm through the open window. I tried to catch them but they got away.”

“
Is my arm broken?”

“
No, but you have a very deep wound in your flesh and we have only just managed to stop it bleeding.”

“
It hurts like the very devil.”

“
Of that, I have no doubt. But you have been very brave.” He raised her hand on the uninjured side and pressed her knuckles to his lips. Her smile was wan but it warmed his heart. She was alive and that was the main thing.

“
I am thirsty,” she said, licking her cracked lips. Mrs Jenkins passed a glass of wine to him. He placed one hand under her head, lifting it to the glass. She took a couple of sips and lay back. “Thank you.”

Her eyes flickered. She was trying to stay awake. He stroked her cheek with the back of his hand.
“Sleep, my darling. I promise not to leave.”

“
I love you,” she muttered, snuggling her cheek into the pillow.

His heart seemed to stop beating.

She had said she loved him. But then, she was delirious. And she had said she hated him too. The poor dear was confused. It must be the laudanum talking.

He watched her for a long moment before Mrs Jenkins subtly coughed. He lifted his gaze to her.

“I brought some food since you had no evening meal, Your Grace. You need to keep your strength up. Perhaps try to sleep too while Her Grace does.”

“
Thank you, Mrs Jenkins. I thought you were going to post a maid to wait up.”

“
It won’t kill me to stay awake. But Tilly is going to take over soon, then Mary.”

“
I see. The footmen?”

“
They are taking turns too, sir.”

“
Good. Please get some rest.”

“
I will. Best you take your own advice too. Ring if you need anything.” She curtseyed and left.

Nate walked over to th
e tea tray sitting on the table. Sandwiches and cakes filled separate platters. What he really needed was a cup of tea. He poured it, splashed in some milk and sugar and turned to watch his wife sleep. Caesar trotted over to the bed and rested his muzzle in line with her hand. He whined quietly. Nate walked over and stroked the dog’s ears.

“
Don’t worry, boy, she will be fine. She has to be.”

Sarah had awoken, drowsy but comfortable. For the past two days she had slept often, drugged by the laudanum but grateful for it. Whenever the tincture wore off, her arm was aflame with pain and Nate would call for Mrs Jenkins and they would give her the tincture again.

Her husband had not noticed that she was awake yet, so she took a few moments to drink in the sight of him. His hair was tousled, his face pale in the candlelight, he looked much older than his one and thirty years. A book lay on his lap and he sat in a chair, his feet propped on the
bed. He wore no coat or cravat and his waistcoat was unbuttoned.

He looked up, started
, then smiled.

“
Good evening.” His soft baritone seemed to wrap itself around her like a cocoon, making her feel safe and loved. She wanted to laugh at the stray thought. Loved indeed. He had been forced to marry her. But he respected her, and she thought he may even like her. “Sarah?”

She tried to smile
, but her dry lips cracked at the attempt and she ran her tongue over her bottom lip and tasted blood. Damn. “Good evening.”

He had risen and
was striding around the bed. “Are you in pain?”

“
No. I would like something to drink though.”

“
Your lip is bleeding,” he said, rubbing his thumb over the split, his brow furrowing.

“
It is fine, Nate.”

“
Wine?”

“
Please.”

He poured a glass
from a decanter on the bedside table and held it to her lips. It was like a balm to her soul. She gulped it down, not caring that she must look terribly unladylike. When the glass was drained, she lay back against the pillow.

“
Did you find out who shot me?” she asked, watching his jaw tighten and his eyes gleam with anger.

“
No, but I will and when I do…”

“
Nate. Please do not upset yourself.”

He turned on her and stared coldly.
“You are my wife, Sarah. And I will not have anyone hurt or damage what is mine.”

“
You make me sound like a barouche,” she said quietly. Was that all she was to him? Property? At some point during the past few days as he quietly and caringly administered laudanum and wine and the occasional glass of lemonade to her, she has realised that she loved him. He shoved his fingers through his already dishevelled hair—something he always did when he was unsure of the correct thing to say or do. Why was she picking an argument with him?

“
I do not mean to make you sound like property. Though legally you are my property. I care for you and feel like I’ve let you down…”

A tap on the door made them both look up.

“Come!” called Nathaniel.

The butler,
Garvie, walked in with a letter on a silver salver.

“
Apologies, Your Grace, but this just arrived by special messenger.”

“
At ten o’clock at night?”

Sarah’s heart sank. Special messengers never came at night unless the news was very bad indeed. She swallowed hard.

“Yes, Your Grace. It is for Her Grace.”

Nathaniel picked up the message and made to hand it to Sarah. She waved it away. She could not bear to see the words in black and white.

“You read it. I think I know what it says.”

He threw her a quizzical look.
“Your father?” She nodded. “That will be all, Garvie.” The butler bowed and left. Nathaniel tugged on the seal and withdrew a sheet of paper.

“
Is he… is he…”

“
No. He is gravely ill. This is his penmanship. It is shakier than I recognise from when he signed our marriage contracts, but it is his. He says the doctor believes he has but a week or two.”

Sarah tugged the covers off her legs.

“Then we must go to London.”

“
Sarah, you are in no fit state to…”

Sarah saw red. First she was his property and now he would refuse her the chance to see her father one more time.

“Your Grace, my father is dying. I am going to London now. You may go with me or not go with me. If you choose not to come, then I will take enough servants to attend to my needs. I do not and never have needed your help.”

Nathaniel’s eyes widened and he held a hand up in surrender.

“Your Grace, I have no intention of stopping you from going to town. That said, a two day journey, while you require laudanum will require a little organisation. It is dark and cloudy outside. It is not a full moon. Going anywhere in a carriage tonight would be foolish in the extreme. We
will
go to London, I
will
accompany you and I
will
take care of my
own wife. And you can damned well stop throwing tantrums.”

“
I am not throwing a tantrum, I am… I…” The fight left her and tears stung her eyes. She gazed up at Nathaniel, his own stormy countenance making her feel worse. “I just do not want to be too late.”

Nathaniel sat on the bed and wrapped his arms around her, taking care not to touch her injured arm and pulling her against his strong body.

He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “I promise to do my utmost to get us safely to London, as quickly as humanly possible. It shall be light in seven hours. We shall set off then. Perhaps if we do not tarry, stopping mainly for horse changes and calls of nature, we can make it to London by nightfall. If not, we shall be there by lunchtime the next day at the very latest. But we cannot go immediately. We must pack, arrange servants and I cannot in all conscience risk my horses, my carriage, my servants or us in an ill-conceived night-time journey.”

“
I know. I was being selfish.”

“
No. You were being a concerned daughter. But, my love, I will get us to London expediently. I promise.”

The tears came and she buried her head in his shoulder, grief an overwhelming weight that tried to crush her. He loosened her braid and ran his hands through her hair, soothing and shushing and comforting.

Memories of her father came to mind, good ones of when she was a child, bad ones of him sitting beside her mother as the woman had gasped her last breath, bittersweet ones of him escorting her down the aisle of St George’s to her new life as a duchess.

“
I shall get some food brought up to you and then you must sleep. I shall arrange everything and at dawn we shall leave for town.”

“
I am not hungry,” she protested.

“
You need to eat. You have barely touched any food in the past few days and you need strength for the journey.” Nathaniel moved her away from him and pressed a kiss to her lips. Then he pulled the bell, ordered food and took a brush from her dressing table and began brushing then braiding her hair.