The Scandal in Kissing an Heir (23 page)

Rebecca looked up, bleary-eyed, to see an older gentleman striding toward her. “The lady of the house, I presume?” She nodded, and the doctor set down his bag next to the bed. “Pleased to meet you, though I do wish it had been under different circumstances. May I have a look?”

With a surge of relief, Rebecca nodded and moved aside so Fenmore could inspect Daniel more closely. He removed the towel, gently prodded the wound, waited a second and then turned to Rebecca. “As you are probably aware, your husband has been shot. He was lucky though—it appears as though the lead ball missed his organs. All in all, he should be able to make a fine recovery, but the ball will have to be removed, and that will be painful.”

Rebecca knew just how painful, for it was a procedure she’d recently gone through herself. She nodded. “I’ve given him some laudanum, just a teaspoonful, to help him through the worst of it.”

The doctor must have approved, because he didn’t admonish her for her actions; he just seated himself on the edge of the bed and opened up his bag, pulling out a few different items as he rummaged through it. Once he was done, he turned to Rebecca again. “If you wish to leave, now is the time.”

Leave? Not bloody likely.

“I’ll stay,” she said, stubborn and determined and fiercely loyal to the last.

“All right, then. I’ll need some better lighting. Perhaps you could . . .” He didn’t need to finish that sentence, for she’d already grabbed the closest oil lamp and was holding it over Daniel’s abdomen, illuminating the area that the doctor needed to work on. And so she remained for the next half hour, biting her tongue to stop herself from berating the doctor each time Daniel groaned in agony. Hawkins and Laura both offered to take her place a few times, but she shooed them away. This was her duty, her responsibility, her husband, and she would be damned if she failed him.

“And that’s it,” Doctor Fenmore said at last as he tied off the thread after removing the tiny lead ball and stitching up the hole. “He’ll need a fair amount of rest—a week in bed, I suspect—but I’m confident that he’ll be gallivanting about again after that. He’s young and strong. No need to worry. As for my fee . . .”

“Yes, yes, of course,” Rebecca said, both relieved and perplexed. “How much . . . ?”

“Ten pounds should do it,” he said as she reached for her reticule. She pulled out the money and handed it to him without hesitation, thankful for his assistance.

Once he’d left, Rebecca addressed her servants. “Thank you,” she said. “You were all very efficient, for which I am grateful. It’s late though, and I’m sure you must be tired. Why don’t you retire? I’ll ring if I need anything.”

None of them moved to leave, and Molly quietly said, “Cook is still in the kitchen. She’ll be happy to fix a plate for you, my lady. You need some sustenance after everything that’s happened, and you’ve had nothing since luncheon.”

Was that true? Rebecca reflected on the hours that had passed since eating her meal in the kitchen. She’d been worried senseless and hadn’t wanted her dinner when she’d been offered it. Aware of a growing ache in her belly, she realized she was suddenly quite ravenous. “Thank you, Molly. That would be greatly appreciated.”

Bobbing a curtsy, the maid headed for the door, pausing there just long enough to say, “If you don’t mind, my lady, I’d like to tell you that I think you were marvelous this evening. I would most likely have fainted had I been in your position.” And with a little nod and a bit of a smile, she left to see to the food.

“Yes,” Hawkins said, looking at Rebecca as if he was seeing her for the very first time. Unlike his master, he was not a man prone to smiling, and now was no exception. “You were both strong and courageous, more so than I would have expected from someone so young. Forgive me. I mean no offense. It’s just . . . well, most women would have cried and swooned, but you did not, and I admire you for it.” He paused, blinked and finally added, “Mr. Neville is lucky to have you.”

“Why, thank you, Hawkins,” Rebecca said. Her voice was unusually timid, and she decided that it was most likely because she wasn’t used to being praised and was feeling rather self-conscious as a result.

The valet bid her a good night and departed, leaving Rebecca alone with Laura and Daniel. “They’re right, you know,” Laura said. “You really were quite splendid.”

Rebecca gave a little shrug. “I only did my duty, and even then it wasn’t all that much or even that difficult, for that matter. Fenmore did most of the work, and if I hadn’t helped him by holding the lamp, then one of you would have done it instead.”

Laura shook her head. “Perhaps, but that doesn’t diminish your efforts, not to mention how calm you were. I must confess I’m quite impressed.”

Calm? Laura thought she’d been calm? Was she blind?

“I was anything but calm, Laura, I can assure you.”

“Well, if that is the case, then you hid your distress exceedingly well. Hawkins is right. Mr. Neville is incredibly lucky to have you.”

Glancing toward the sleeping form of her husband, Rebecca quietly murmured, “It is I who is lucky to have him.” She heard Laura sigh. Rebecca thought Laura might say something more, but she didn’t, and when Rebecca turned back to look at her, she saw that Laura had crossed to the door.

“Good night, my lady,” Laura said. “Try to rest, and please do call if you need anything.”

Rebecca nodded just as Molly returned with a tray, squeezing her way past Laura in the doorway. “There’s some beef with steamed carrots and gravy,” she said, placing the tray on one of the nightstands, “as well as a sponge pudding which I’m sure you’ll enjoy.”

As soon as Laura and Molly were gone and the door had closed behind them, Rebecca expelled a deep breath. She felt drained. Never in her life had she been so scared—terrified, really. Her gaze went to Daniel and she slowly approached the bed, pleased to see a bit of color in his cheeks but concerned by how still he looked. She placed her hand on his chest and almost sagged with relief when she felt the steady beat of his heart thumping against her palm. “Don’t you ever do that to me again,” she murmured as she leaned over and placed a gentle kiss upon his forehead, “for I daresay I won’t survive it.”

Straightening, she wiped away a tear with the heel of her hand and pulled a chair closer to the nightstand so she could eat her supper, her eyes fixed on Daniel’s face as she did so in case he happened to open his eyes. He did not, and as exhaustion overtook her and she finished her meal, Rebecca barely managed to lie down on the bed next to him before she fell fast asleep.

Chapter 23

W
hen Rebecca woke the following day, she didn’t open her eyes immediately, content as she was to remain snuggled up against Daniel’s warm body. But then he groaned, and the memory of everything that had happened the night before came rushing back to her. She sat up, realizing to her shock and dismay that she was still fully dressed. When had she gotten into bed? She couldn’t recall and decided that she must have been well and truly fatigued.

Brushing some strands of hair away from her eyes, she looked down at Daniel. His eyes were still closed but he was snoring softly, his chest rising and falling more visibly than it had last night. She wondered why he’d groaned. Was he in pain, even in his sleep? She looked toward the bottle of laudanum still on the dresser and wondered if she should give him some more. He had to be in pain after everything he’d been through. She had been when she’d been shot, and her wound hadn’t been nearly as bad as his.

On the other hand, what if she woke him as she tried to administer it? He needed rest, the doctor had said. Caught with indecision, she just sat there watching him, submitting his every feature to memory and noticing the little things that she hadn’t seen before, like the tiniest scar on the left side of his jaw and the fact that his hair wasn’t dark brown throughout but streaked with occasional strands of auburn. She instinctively reached out to touch it but caught herself and stopped.
Leave him be,
she reminded herself. There would be plenty of time for affection later. For now, the best thing she could do for him was give him time to recover.

Two hours later, Daniel still hadn’t woken, and Rebecca began to grow restless. She tried to read from a book she found in the drawer of her bedside table but was completely unable to concentrate. After rereading the same paragraph an infinite number of times, she picked a little at the remainders of last night’s pudding, then crossed to the window and looked out, but since the bedroom faced a side street, there was very little going on out there, and she quickly turned away with a sigh and started to pace.

Perhaps she ought to ring for Molly and Laura to come and clear away the trays and towels that occupied all available surfaces so the room wouldn’t seem so cluttered, but the disturbance might wake Daniel, so she decided against it. But when another hour passed and Daniel still showed no sign of waking up anytime soon, Rebecca knew she had to do something or she’d start clawing at the walls. So she rang for Laura, quietly nudged the bedroom door open and waited for her to appear.

“Would you please bring me my watercolors,” she whispered as soon as Laura arrived, “and a cup of tea?”

Her request was met with quick efficiency, and she was soon able to sink back into one of the armchairs in the room and apply herself to her art, her model holding a perfect pose as she captured his features on paper. She’d just started on his arm, which was stretched out along the length of his side, when a movement caught the corner of her eye. Had he just blinked? She set her sketchbook aside and got up so she could take a closer look. The corner of his mouth twitched, there was a slight murmur and then . . . very slowly, Daniel opened his eyes.

Rebecca almost flung herself on top of him in her excitement, stopping herself just in time to reflect that doing so would probably not be the best idea and that Daniel would likely scold her for causing him further pain. So instead she just took his hand in hers, creating a small space next to him where she could sit. “Welcome back,” she said, smiling down at him with all the love she felt in her heart, as well as a large dose of relief. “How are you feeling?”

He blinked and grimaced. “Like hell,” he muttered, and then just one word. “Water.”

Springing to her feet, Rebecca rushed to the bellpull and rang for someone to fetch Daniel some water, berating herself for her thoughtlessness. Of course he’d be thirsty when he came to, and yet she’d only thought of tea for herself.

When the matter had been seen to and Molly and Laura had straightened the room a bit with the promise of returning soon with some breakfast, Rebecca resumed her seat next to Daniel and quietly asked the one question that had plagued her since he’d returned home. “Who would do this to you?”

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath before opening them again. She offered him some laudanum, which he accepted. “Do you remember what happened?” she then asked, desperate for an explanation.

He swallowed, took a moment and then pierced her with his dark brown eyes. “It was Grover.”

Rebecca sat back in disbelief. “Grover did this?”

Eyes closed once again, Daniel nodded. “He must have followed me—I’m not sure for how long—but when I left the
Mayfair Chronicle
I was . . . not in the best mood.”

Rebecca nodded. She understood what selling the phaeton had meant for him: it was like stripping him of his pride.

“So,” he continued, “I decided to take a walk. My thoughts must have been elsewhere, because before I knew it, I’d ventured almost all the way to Cheapside.”

Rebecca wasn’t sure how far that was exactly, but from the way Daniel said it, she gathered that it wasn’t close.

“It was getting dark by then, and I decided to find a hackney to take me home.” He paused, frowned. “There was nobody else about in the street I was in, and then suddenly someone called my name. I turned around and was surprised to see Grover walking toward me with great determination. With Starkly’s warning in mind, I grew increasingly apprehensive about his intentions. He’s an old man though, and he was alone. I didn’t think he posed a threat.” Daniel closed his eyes momentarily before saying, “But I was wrong. Without saying a word, he just continued toward me, and then . . . well, then he shot me.”

“
What
?” Rebecca could scarecely believe that this was how it had happened. It seemed so cold and . . . and heartless. “Just like that, without any warning?”

Daniel winced. “You should have seen the gleam in his eyes before he pulled the trigger, Becky. The man is a raving lunatic. Thankfully, he’s also a dreadful shot who had no desire to linger long enough to ensure that he’d actually succeeded in killing me.” He scoffed. “I suspect he might have been worried about his reputation.”

Rebecca found her lips trembling with unexpected mirth. Trust Daniel to make light of such a serious situation. “But surely there are witnesses,” she said. “Someone must have seen what happened, in which case Grover ought to face charges for attempted murder. Surely London must have constables who can investigate and—”

“It will be my word against his, Becky. It was dark in a deserted alleyway. There was no one else around, and he is a duke, while I . . . well, I’m sure there are many who have wondered why I haven’t gotten myself shot any sooner than I did.”

“Daniel! That’s a terrible thing to say.”

“It’s the truth,” he muttered, his eyes meeting hers. “What Grover and the Griftons did or tried to do to you was wrong, but to steal you away at your engagement ball, to humiliate a duke like that and to marry you in haste the way I did was to ask for trouble. I believe it put Grover over the edge.”

“I don’t—”

He silenced her by pressing a finger to her lips. For a long moment he just lay there, staring back at her in silence, and she couldn’t help but notice how his eyes brightened as he looked back at her. When he spoke again, his voice was quiet and filled, she realized, with wonder. “I want you to know that I would do it all again,” he said, “just to be with you.”

Rebecca’s stomach tightened, and her heart thumped wildly in her chest. “Even getting shot?” she whispered.

“Even that.”

Her palms grew clammy and her breath was a little bit shaky when she exhaled. She dared not ask him why he felt that way because it would only sound as if she was trying to get him to say something he might not be ready to say. Perhaps it was more than he felt even, though he surely cared for her if he was willing to go through so much trouble for her. But love? She knew she loved him and she wanted to say so, but if she did so now, then wouldn’t it seem as if she expected him to say it in return? No, she had to tell him—she’d resolved to do so, and she wouldn’t allow another moment to pass without sharing what was in her heart.

“I love you,” she said, and then she blinked, realizing that he’d spoken at the exact same time as her, his words mirroring her own. “Did you just say . . . I mean, it sounded like you—”

“I love you, Becky,” he repeated, and reaching for her hand, he clasped it with his own before bringing it to his lips for a kiss.

Rebecca was speechless. Was it true? Did he really love her? She felt her body flood with warmth as she stared back into his eyes, eyes that were usually filled with laughter and mischief but were now filled with something else entirely—an honest vulnerability that spoke to her heart. “I . . .” she began, not sure of what she would say or of what she
could
say to express how much his declaration meant to her.

“I know,” he murmured, nuzzling her hand with his cheek. “You don’t have to say anything else. I know exactly how you feel.” And then he smiled that wonderful smile she’d come to adore, and the only thing she could think to do was kiss him, so she did. She kissed him with all the love and passion she felt for him until they were both breathless.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, pulling away just enough to look him in the eye. “You must be in pain.”

“Just a little,” he said. Rebecca looked at him dubiously, at which he sighed. “Very well, it hurts like blazes, but that doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy you taking advantage of my immobile state.” His smile widened to a cheeky grin. “As you can see, I’m still in working order.”

Rebecca followed his line of vision until, “Oh! I say . . . er . . . well then.”

Her befuddled state just made him laugh even more until he groaned and winced in pain. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath, then exhaled slowly. “I think it might be best if I refrain from laughing, though I must say that you should have seen your face just now. It was precious.”

Rebecca’s cheeks still felt hot. Trust Daniel to make her blush even when he’d been shot and confined to his bed. He was incorrigible, really. “May I take a look at the wound?” she asked. “I’d like to ensure that the stitches are holding and that there’s no sign of infection.”

Giving her a nod of approval, Daniel allowed Rebecca to tend to him. With gentle fingers she removed the linen strips that the doctor had wrapped around his abdomen to keep the compress in place. Peeling away the wad of cotton, she breathed a sigh of relief. His flesh looked a little pink around the wound, but other than that, it looked healthy and clean. She replaced the used wad of cotton with a clean one, then bound him back up. “I’ll call Hawkins so he can help you tend to your toilette,” she said, placing a tender kiss against his forehead, “and then we’ll have something to eat. I’m sure Molly will be up any moment with that tray.”

“I
still don’t think that we should allow Grover to get away with this,” Rebecca said a short while later after finishing off a slice of buttered toast. “There has to be a way to make him pay.”

“I assure you I can think of several,” Daniel muttered. He’d barely touched his food, but he’d already drained two cups of tea.

Rebecca offered him a third. “I was thinking of something legal, Daniel.”

“Ah, well in that case I’m not sure a solution will present itself. As I said, there were no witnesses.”

“Hmm . . . it’s just . . .” Rebecca set the teapot down and returned to her seat. She hesitated for a second, not wishing to alarm him, but eventually decided to share her concern. “Sooner or later he will discover that he didn’t finish you off, and once that happens, he might come after you again.”

Daniel nodded. “The thought has crossed my mind.”

Rebecca sighed. Lord, she was tired. “Then we must be prepared,” she said, “or better yet, we must preempt his next move by making one of our own.”

“Well, you’re the creative one, Becky. If anyone can think of a way to trap Grover, then I believe it’s you.” He yawned, placed his teacup on the table and slid down beneath the covers. “Let me know if you think of something we can use, and please . . . don’t do anything without talking to me first.”

“You have my word on it,” she promised.

“Good, because I’m telling you, the man’s unpredictable. If he shot me just like that on a street in the middle of London, then we can’t be sure that he won’t try to harm you as well. We must be”—he yawned again, and his eyes slid shut on the word—“careful.”

Rebecca nodded. Daniel was right. Grover had clearly gone mad if he thought he could murder the Marquess of Wolvington’s nephew in cold blood. She wondered if her aunt and uncle were aware of what he’d done. After everything they’d put her through, there was no telling what they might be capable of, though she wasn’t sure they’d go quite this far. One thing was for certain though, and that was that she detested Grover with every fiber of her being. As deep as her love for Daniel ran, so too did her hate for the duke. To think that he’d almost succeeded in taking Daniel away from her made her tremble with rage. She had to think of something— something clever—because she couldn’t possibly allow Grover to get away with what he’d done.