A Desperate Wager (20 page)

Nate laid Sarah on the seat as the carriage drew into another coaching inn, having set off at first dawn, Sarah drowsy but malleable. As soon as it came to a complete halt, Nate climbed out of the carriage and walked around to speak to Bellamy.

He had
been worried for her but had pushed the thought to the side. She would hate him if he stopped her from seeing her father before he died. And he could not imagine being prevented from seeing his father when the late duke had passed. His father had died of a fever, just as his sister had done, and Nate had only just made it to the man’s bed before he breathed his last. He had to ensure Sarah got to see her father one last time.

Now night was drawing in. He looked up at the darkening sky.

“What do you think, Bellamy?”

“
Well, Your Grace, it is getting dark.”

“
What if I tell you my wife is burning up with a fever and I want to get her home?”

“
I would say that it’s a clear night, the moon is out and as long as we slow our pace, we should be in London by around eleven o’clock.”

Nate nodded.
“Do it.”

“
Aye, Your Grace.”

Nate arranged with the innkeeper for a bottle filled with wa
ter and a couple of linen cloths, asked Tilly to join him in their coach and handed her the water and cloths.

“
I will assist with her clothing, you wipe the damp cloths over her skin,” Nate suggested. The carriage lurched, and they were off. The water spilled, and Tilly struggled to pour it onto the cloth. Sarah moaned as the wet linen was pressed against her forehead. Sarah flailed, but the maid and the duke worked together despite the jarring of the carriage. And Nate was grateful to Tilly. Despite being paid to work, he could tell she cared for Sarah’s welfare by the concern she showed and the way she treated her mistress.

Holding Sarah was like
carrying hot coals. Moonlight glanced off the sheen of her clammy skin, and he wiped a loose tendril of damp hair back behind her ear. He hated fevers. He had lost so much to them and now fear clenched his gut. He could not… would not lose his wife to one.

It was a long
, slow journey as he and Tilly took it in turns to check Sarah. Tilly seemed less worried than he. That soothed him a little.

As the buildings of London came into view, Nate began to relax until Sarah groaned and clutched his jacket, pulling herself against him
, shaking.

“
She is cold, sir,” said Tilly pulling off her cloak and offering it to Nate. Still holding Sarah on his knee, he leaned forward and without being asked, Tilly helped him off with his coat. Sarah’s teeth were chattering.

Devil take it, he had no idea what was wrong with her. One minute hot, the next freezing. It was most definitely a fever of some kind. Was it caused by her wound? From travelling when she was unwell from her wound. He had dosed her liberally with laudanum as he had suspected the jarring would cause her terrible pain. Perhaps it had been too much.

Houses and shops swum by, but he barely noticed. They were in town now. Soon he would be home. He hoped his mother was in residence. Her house was still being decorated as far as he knew. The streets of Mayfair were a balm to his frayed nerves. He sighed, clutching the cloak and coat around his wife. He would never forgive himself if she died.

Sarah stirred.

“So cold,” she whispered.

“
I am sorry, my love. We will get more blankets around you as soon as we get home. We are nearly there.”

“
Home to Kirkbourne?”

“
Home to London.”

“
My father. Is he…?”

“
I do not know. I hope not.”

“
Take me to Papa.”

“
Sarah, you are in no fit state to…Sarah?” He shook her and she mumbled, but she had fallen asleep again. It was probably for the best. A few minutes later the carriage stopped outside his town house. He gathered her into his arms as the footman jumped from the back of the carriage and opened the door.

“
Get the door,” he instructed Tilly, who hurried ahead and banged hard on the brass knocker. The fact the knocker was on the door was a good sign, as it meant that someone was in residence—his mother. It seemed to take forever for Williams, the butler, to answer the door but eventually he answered, looking askance at his master.

“
Your Grace! We did not expect you.”

“
No. I am afraid Her Grace’s father has taken a turn for the worse and we headed back to town as soon as we could but, unfortunately, Her Grace has succumbed to a fever.” He said this as he climbed the stairs to her bedchamber, the butler and maid in tow. “Get me blankets and water and towels and maids and whatever else I need. Is the dowager duchess in residence?”

“
I am right here.” A voice from the door made him still as he rested Sarah on the mattress. It was a voice that told him everything would be all right. The voice that had told him through her own tears that he would survive the death of his father and sister. The one that also told him at regular intervals that he would survive Crosby’s death too. The only one that had ever said the accident was not his fault. The voice that had soothed his own fevered imaginings as a boy. The voice that had told him he would make a wonderful duke and a wonderful father.

“
Mama!” He finished straightening his sleeping wife’s limbs before turning. He swallowed a lump in his throat. He had not called her Mama in years, having eschewed it for the more formal
mother
after his first term at Eton. Apparently only babies called their mater
Mama.
But now the one woman who loved him despite his flaws stood in a dressing gown, her silver and black hair braided down her back and a look of concern in her gaze. She glanced at the bed and back at him.

“
Sarah has a fever?”

“
Yes. She was burning up and now she shivers uncontrollably. She has also had laudanum for pain, so she is very sleepy. I worry I may have given her too much.”

He sat down and
eased Sarah into a seated position, leaning her against his own body. At first she murmured and snuggled into his shoulder, until he started to undo the buttons and laces of her gown.

“
No,” she murmured, pushing against him weakly.

“
Sarah, my love. I am only undressing you.” He pulled her back against his frame.

“
Please,” her voice was a pitiful wail.

“
Sarah, it is Nathaniel. You are not well. I need to undress you.”

“
Duke Kirkb…n. No cannot see me naked. No… drunk. Does not want me. No! Get away from me.” Her voice had gathered strength, and she pushed against him. He let go and she sat back, leaning on her arms, her eyes wild and her body shaking. “Go away.”

He moved to rise, unsure of what to do
, He glanced over at his mother who stood, her face emotionless, for a few moments before she moved over to Sarah and hurried Nate out of the way.

“
Mama, I have never… I would never… I have been a good husband.”

“
I know, Nate. Go and sit on the drawing room. I shall help the maids here. Have some brandy. You have had a long day.”

He hesitated. He had no idea how ill she was and could not bear to be sitting in the drawing room if… the worst happened.

“Go, Nate. Please do not upset her anymore.”

He nodded brusquely and left. The drawing room was opposite the master bedchambers and within a few strides he was at the door of the large room. It was cavernous, cold and empty. He looked at the brandy decanter on the sideboard. Would it hurt to have one small drink, just to calm his nerves?

No, he would not. He had sworn if she survived the gunshot wound, he would not drink again. So far she was alive. Perhaps if he bargained with God. He would not drink so Sarah would live.

Besides, he could not bear to disappoint Sarah. Not again
.

When had he changed from a self-assured, if rather broken duke, to a husband who cared enough for his wife not to disappoint her
?

He pulled the bell cord and within two minutes the butler appeared.

“Ah Williams, a tea tray please, and can you send a footman round to Brackingham House for an update on the health of the Earl of Brackingham. Tell them that the Duchess of Kirkbourne is in town and would like an update on her father’s condition.”

“
Aye, Your Grace.” If the butler was surprised at his request for tea, he did not show it. Sarah would be proud of him… if she regained her health. With her at his side, giving up alcohol had not been so difficult after all.

An hour later, the dowager duchess walked into the drawing room. Nate jumped to his feet, setting the cold tea down on the small table beside him.

“
We have plenty of brandy,” commented his mother, waving a hand in the general direction of the decanter.

Oh, Nate knew well enough there was brandy. It had been tempting him for nearly an hour. Had it been a woman, it would have been sitting naked in his lap undoing the fall of his breeches. Instead it sat there, drawing his gaze, stirring up memories of the burn as it ran smoothly down his throat.

He definitely knew that they had plenty of brandy.

“
I stopped drinking strong spirits.”

“
You did? I am glad to hear it. I was getting concerned. Besides, there is no likelihood of you managing to get the girl in an interesting state if you are constantly foxed.”

“
Mother!” He really had no wish to discuss begetting heirs or his problem with strong spirits with his mother. “How is Sarah?”

“
She seems to be resting now. She shivered for some time and we piled blankets on her, but she seems better now. Tilly said something about her being shot. It is a terrible wound, Nathaniel.”

There was censure in his mother’s voice
, and her brow furrowed. He wanted to see her laughter lines deepen, not the lines that said ‘Nathaniel, you have disappointed me yet again.’

“
I know. Has it caused her fever?”

“
No. I think she has influenza.”

Coldness settled in his belly.

“That is what took Caroline,” he said flatly.

“
Yes, but Caroline had always had difficulty breathing when she ran about too much or got too excited or on hot days. Sarah does not have breathing difficulties normally, does she?”

“
Not as far as I know.”

“
Most people who are healthy survive influenza. As long as we keep her skin cool and moist when she is feverish and keep her warm when she is shivering, she should be fine. We may need to reduce her laudanum though.”

“
But her wound is very painful.”

The dowager duchess approached Nate and placed her hands on his shoulders. She was a tall woman, thin and graceful and smelled
… of his childhood.

“
How did Sarah get shot?”

“
I do not know.” He shook his head. “We were in the library, the window was open. We were trying to strengthen her legs. She wants to stop using her leg braces, you see. We got distracted.” A blush rose in his cheeks. He had been about to lift her onto the desk and tumble her. “Anyway, it all happened quickly, horse hooves, the report of a firearm, more horse hooves, Sarah screaming. I ran out after him. The servants got me a horse but not quickly enough for me to give chase. I lost him in the woods.”

“
Did you see him…or her?”

“
No, just from the back as he reached the woods and I ran out of the front door. I only saw a brown coat or cape.”

“
Why would anyone want to kill Sarah?” his mother mused, sitting down and motioning for him to do likewise.

“
Perhaps they are trying to kill me. We were very close at the time. He was aiming through a window, on horseback. I could easily be the target. And there is another thing…”

“
Oh yes?”

“
We were going into Bath a week or so past and someone had cut through our carriage wheel. The barouche toppled, throwing us both out. Sarah hit her head but was otherwise unharmed.”

“
I see.” His mother seemed to ponder for a moment then looked up at him gravely. “Nathaniel, you haven’t done anything stupid with your rents or implemented anything that would anger one of your tenants, have you?”

“
No, Mother. I appreciate that you see me as both feckless and a wastrel, but I assure you it is not the case. I am a good landlord. I believe in low rents and helping my tenants. Good God, I am trying to get them a vote in elections.”

“
Do not blaspheme, son. And I have never thought you to be a wastrel or feckless. Impulsive perhaps, but that is not necessarily a bad thing since you seem to have good judgement. So it is not a tenant. What about a member of the ton? Before you were engaged to Sarah did you… were you dallying with an innocent or perhaps leading a young lady to believe you had serious intentions towards her?”

“
No!” he retorted angrily. Devil take it. What kind of a man did the woman think she had raised? “I have never tumbled an innocent or an unwilling woman, and I have no bastards as far as I know.” He hoped his use of the word may stop his mother’s inquisition, but her mouth merely tightened into a thin line.

“
As far as you know?”

“
I do not tend to correspond with courtesans after I have paid them, Mother. And as far as I understand, they have ways to prevent such things happening. Besides, I always withdrew.” Maybe that would stop her. He could not believe he was discussing the bedding courtesans with his own mother. Or courtesans for that matter.

“
And you have definitely never left any lady with child?”

“
No, Mother.”

“
And you have not abused Sarah. Her father has not sent anyone after you?”

Nate stopped, remembering his appalling behaviour the day of the carriage accident. But he had not hurt her and besides, the carriage accident was the first attempt on one of their lives.

“No, Mother.” His voice was quiet. He could not believe his mother thought he would beat his wife. “If I ever hurt Sarah, I would put the pistol in your hand and instruct you to shoot me. I could not live with myself if I hurt her. It is why I stopped drinking spirits. I am afraid I am not a nice man when I am in my cups.”

“
So if it is not a tenant and not the Earl of Brackingham, who wants you, or Sarah, dead?”

“
Crosby?”

“
Because you were driving the other curricle when his brother’s accident happened?”

“
Yes, but he does not seem the type to exact revenge in such a dishonourable manner. Crosby would slap a glove in my face. I would be staring down his pistol at dawn in Hyde Park.”

“
I believe you are correct. Besides other than revenge, he gains nothing from your death and even less from Sarah’s death.”

“
How so?”

“
You married Sarah very quickly under a rumour that her father had wagered her hand in a desperate last ditch attempt to see her settled before his death.”

That was true. He had known of the rumours and had ignored them
, and Sarah had not been out much in society so she was unaware of them for the most part. It upset him that his mother knew about them, even though they were true.

“
That is a fair retelling of the events.”

“
No one for a moment thinks you two are a love match, therefore presumably no one would imagine you would be devastated by her loss.”

Nate swallowed. He would be devastated. He now had visions of Sarah with his children, little dark-haired boys and auburn
-haired girls running around the country estate, learning to ride, learning to swim, a baby held on Sarah’s lap.

“
I can see no way that anyone would gain from Sarah’s death. As a woman, she has no property or money. When her father dies, anything willed to her becomes mine by law.”

“
When she dies, her husband, a duke is back on the marriage mart. You have been married a couple of weeks, so no one would expect you to be in mourning for a full year. You would be ripe for the picking by next season.”

“
Mother, that is insane.”

The dowager duchess sighed and placed her hand on his knee before patting it patronisingly.

“Oh my dear boy, you have no idea how ambitious a mama is for her daughter. To marry a duke is second only to marrying a prince, and Prinny is hardly suitable for anyone’s daughter.”

“
No, certainly not. But Mother, who is to say I would marry the daughter of the person trying to kill Sarah?”

Nate’s mother let out a mirthless laugh.
“Oh Nate, every mother who has a daughter on the marriage mart believes her daughter is the prettiest, most accomplished, most demure, most delightful creature on God’s green earth. They all believe their progeny will snag a duke, or at worst, a marquis. It is almost embarrassing if one’s daughter can only manage an earl. There was much gnashing of teeth and unkind words thrown around about Lady Sarah Steele when there was an announcement in the paper that the crippled daughter of an earl was going to marry the very eligible Duke of Kirkbourne.”

Nate’s temper was rising as this conversation wore on.

“I wish I had heard them. I would have…”

“
You would have done what you are doing now and seethed in private. Let me take up a few of my invitations tomorrow morning and I shall find out what gossip there is. It may give us a clue. Or it may point us in another direction. We must concentrate on getting Sarah better so she can see her father before he passes.”

“
Yes. Of course.”

His mother rose and cocked her head to the side before cupping his rough chin and smiling sadly at him.

“I am sorry that I made you feel that you were a wastrel in my eyes. I never thought of you like that. You are a good, loving and loyal man, and I believe that you and Sarah deal well together. I believe you care for her a lot. I could see it in you when you arrived. And I think she may even love you. She said as much just before she fell asleep.”

He rose and wrapped his mother in his arms, squeezing her tight as he swallowed the tears that stung the back of his eyes. She tapped his back lightly and seemed to infuse him with the strength of which their conversation had sapped him.

She drew away eventually, swiping at her eye.

“
Good night, Nathaniel. Wake me if you are at all worried about Sarah. And try to get some sleep. I shall see you at breakfast.”

“
Yes, Mama.”