The Duke's Christmas Greetings (Regency Christmas Summons Book 3) (7 page)

A harried older man hobbled into the parlor, relying heavily on a cane for assistance, and Mrs. Henderson followed closely in his wake. “Oh, Campion, thank God,” the man heaved.

“Good God.” Matt pushed to his feet. “What’s wrong, Gibson?”

“Please hurry,” he said. “It’s Robby. He fell. His leg’s not right.”

“Yes, of course.” Matt started for the threshold and then stopped suddenly. He looked back over his shoulder and his eyes met Patience’s. “Wait for me and I’ll return you to the castle as soon as I’m back.”

Patience pushed to her feet as well. “I’ll come with you.” She certainly didn’t want to sit around his cottage, just waiting for him, not when she could be with him instead.

He frowned slightly. “His Grace will have me hung if anything happens to you. It’s too dangerous out there.”

The duke could care less about Patience, she was sure. “I’m coming, Matt.”

“I brought the carriage,” the older fellow said. “I wanted to make sure you’d be able to bring anything you might need.”

“See,” she smiled, her gaze never waiving from Matt’s, “plenty of room.” Then she turned her attention to his servant. “We’ll need both of our coats, Mrs. Henderson, while Doctor Campion retrieves his things.”

A spark of admiration lit his eyes as he nodded and Patience felt it all the way to her toes. Then he started from the room as Mrs. Henderson went to grab their coats. Patience smiled at the older man who looked very distraught. “How did Robby fall?” she asked, stepping towards him. Not that she had any idea who Robby was, or who Mr. Gibson was for that matter, but it seemed like the thing to ask.

“We were hanging greenery in the taproom.” He winced. “The boys were trying to out do each other. See who could hang it the highest.” He shook his head, looking truly anguished. “I should’ve put a stop to it. But they were having so much fun and…”

Patience squeezed his arm. “I’m certain Doctor Campion will be able to help him.”

Mr. Gibson nodded in agreement. “Best doctor we’ve had in these parts, Miss…”

“She’s Lady Patience Post, one of His Grace’s relations,” Matt said, re-emerging into the room, carrying a large black bag. “And she really
should
stay here and wait for me.”

She probably should. But she didn’t want to be away from him. Besides, she could make herself useful. “We’ve already settled that, Doctor.”

“Ah, I see that Whitton stubborn streak,” Mr. Gibson said. “Makes for a strong character.”

“Here are your coats,” the housekeeper called from the corridor. “I hung them by the stove and most of the dampness is gone.”

Matt was about to insist she stay one more time, she could see it in his eyes. So Patience hurried into the corridor and retrieved her pelisse before he could mutter the words she didn’t want to hear. She slid her coat on, buttoned it up and stared right out the front door with Matt and Mr. Gibson following behind her.

A young coachman scrambled from the box, a very young coachman. He was more than a few years younger than Patience, which was something she’d never seen. “Thank you, Doctor Campion,” the lad said, opening the coach door.

“Good God, Timmy!” Matt gasped. “What are
you
doing driving this thing?”

“Grandpa’s been teaching Robby and me. I’m real good. We won’t slip off the road or anything.”

Patience hurried into the old coach and settled against the thinnest set of squabs she’d ever seen. She glanced around the coach and thought perhaps it might have been in use during the Reformation, or it might have already been retired by that time. It was anyone’s guess.

With his large doctor’s bag, Matt climbed in and settled beside her, not looking terribly thrilled about the situation. He leaned closer to her and whispered, “You know if something happens to you, Danby will string me up, don’t you?”

She shook her head and smiled at him. “He couldn’t care less about me. You’ll have to worry about Braden but he’s days away in Buckinghamshire. You’ll have plenty of time to escape and change your name.”

He snorted slightly, but the edge of his mouth twitched like he didn’t want her to see him smile. “So relieved you’re concerned for my wellbeing.”

And then Mr. Gibson hobbled in, settled across from them, and rested his cane against his knees.

Matt heaved a sigh. “You really think
Timmy
can handle this thing?”

The old man’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Do you think I’d let him race me to Allwynds if I didn’t?”

Matt settled his bag at their feet and slid his hand around Patience’s. “Don’t let go of me.”

And then as gentle as any expert coachman could’ve managed it, the old carriage started forward and they were off.

“How did Robby fall?” Matt asked, turning his attention to the old man, though he didn’t release his hold on Patience at all.

“Well, he was trying to string up some greenery across the taproom ceiling and…Well, he just fell, Doctor. Almost like a nose dive, like somewhere in that thick skull of his, he’d gotten the notion he could fly.”

“Timmy egging him on?” Matt asked.

The old man shrugged. “Just trying to get the place in the holiday spirit.”

Matt cast Patience a sidelong glance. “Mr. Gibson here is the owner of the Sword and White Rose, a tavern and coaching inn outside of town.”

“Oh! It looks charming.” She smiled at the old man. “My sisters and I noticed it on our way to the castle.”

“You’re here for the Christmas Ball?” the innkeeper asked.

“His Grace is my mother’s uncle. He, uh—” what was the right word…? Demanded? Summoned? “—
invited
the four of us to the castle for the holiday.”

Mr. Gibson nodded. “The Sword and White Rose is nearly overflowing with London swells who’ve come for the duke’s ball.” Then he wrung his hands together. “I don’t know what we’ll do with Robby laid up.” He winced. “Bone sticking right out of his leg, Doctor Campion. It’s the worst thing I’ve ever seen.”

Heavens! A bone sticking out of his leg? Patience’s stomach twisted at the thought, but Matt didn’t even flinch. Of course, he must see worse than that on a regular basis. It couldn’t all be kitten bites and lime juice poultices, after all.

It wasn’t too long before they arrived at the edge of town and then the well-worn old carriage rambled to a stop.

Why the devil had Matt let her come? Because he’d gone and lost his bloody mind, that was why. It was foolish. It was unprofessional. It was madness…But he just didn’t want her to be away from him. What if she went back to Danby Castle and he never saw her again? What if the only time he ever got to spend with her was today?

The door to the coach opened and young Timmy Gibson stood there, looking quite pleased with himself. And, truthfully, he had driven much better than Matt would have ever guessed. “Take my bag, Timmy,” he said. “And show me where your brother is.”

The boy slid the bag from the floor of the coach, and then Matt descended after him. He turned back and offered his hand to Patience.

Just that small contact sent frissons of desire swirling around his heart. Damn it all, how in God’s name had he fallen for Lady Patience Post so quickly? “You don’t want to see this, Patience,” he said softly, helping her alight from the coach. And he’d be the worst sort of cad to show her Robby Gibson’s broken leg. She was, before all else, a lady born and bred. “Just stay in the taproom with Gibson and I’ll be through as soon as I can.”

She nodded, looking slightly relieved.

Then he followed Timmy Gibson into the taproom.

For the middle of the day, the place was already raucous, teeming with hoards of people. He hadn’t seen it this crowded since the year Danby had summoned all of his wayward grandchildren home and married off the vast majority of them. He squeezed Patience’s hand in his. Did the duke have similar plans this year? Had he already determined which gentleman was the right one for Patience? Damn it all. Matt hated that the thought even entered his—

“Hope?” someone called over the din. “Is that you?”

“He’s right over there.” Timmy gestured to the far wall by the steps that led to the sleeping rooms.

“You left him, lying in the middle of the floor of the taproom?” Of all the ridiculous things! Anyone of these people could trample across the poor—

“Lady Hope!”

“Oh!” Patience released Matt’s hand, which made him stop where he stood. “Lord Prestwood! What are you doing here in Yorkshire?”

A well-attired gentleman pushed his way through the crowd and Matt bit down on the ping of jealously that coursed through him all of a sudden. The man might not know which triplet he was talking to, but he was most definitely of her station, whereas Matt was not and never would be.

“I should be asking you the same thing.” The gentleman smiled and bowed before her. “I had no idea you’d be here.”

Matt shook the jealous thoughts from his mind. They wouldn’t help Robby Gibson and they wouldn’t help Matt either. So he turned his back on Patience and whoever the devil Lord Prestwood was and followed Timmy Gibson to the corner of the room where the lad’s little brother was still lying in pain.

“We are staying at Danby Castle for the holidays,” Patience told her longtime neighbor, even if he couldn’t tell her from her sister no matter that they’d grown up near each other their entire lives.

“And I am here at the duke’s invitation, as well,” he said, stepping closer to her. “Have you seen Quent? I’d love to get his opinion on a Friesian Cross a fellow over there is talking about.”

Quent? She shook her head. “I haven’t seen my brother since his wedding.” And she had no doubt it would be spring before she saw him again, when Quent and Lila would meet them in Town for the Season.

A most peculiar look settled on Prestwood’s face.

Odd, Patience had never considered Prestwood peculiar before, and she had known him all her life. Anyway, “Prestwood, this is…” She turned to introduce Matt, but he was gone.

A bit of panic settled in her chest. He’d left her in the middle of the taproom? He
had
told her to wait there. And he
did
have a patient to tend to. But…Well, she would have thought he’d have said something before just abandoning her in the middle of the room.

Prestwood blinked at her. “Hope?”

“I’m not Hope.” She shook her head.

“Well, you’re not Grace,” he said matter-of-factly. And he was quite right about that.

“No, I’m not,” she agreed, which only left one person she could be.

“I
am
sorry, Patience.” And he looked it as he sagged a bit. “You would think after all these years, I could tell the three of you apart.”

“It’s fine,” she assured him. After all, very few people could. “But do excuse me. I was in the middle of something.”

“Of course,” he agreed. “Do tell your sisters hello for me. And I’ll do the same when I see Quent.”

Without another thought about Lord Prestwood, she pushed her way through the crowd to where Matt and Timmy Gibson were carrying a small boy up the flight of stairs. But Matt’s bag had been left on the floor of the taproom, so Patience snatched it and followed after the trio, up the wooden steps. Heavens, the bag was heavy. Heavier than it looked in any event.

Rounding a corner, up ahead, the child let out a whimper and Patience winced on his behalf. Poor little boy.