What a Lady Craves (36 page)

Lord, he hadn’t even voiced his complete thought, but just that much hurt badly enough. Whoever the offender was, Alexander would see her dismissed without a character.

“She was not a maid.”

Damn the man. “Who?” Although suspicion gnawed at his gut. Not a maid, certainly not his mother or his aunt. Never Henrietta. But that only left one possibility—and his sister had lied to him about Satya’s whereabouts.

“It is not important.” His immovable expression was back, the one that reminded Alexander of a rock in the middle of a raging stream. “What is important is that I was not at my post, and I will accept whatever punishment you offer.”

If he had the breath, he’d have protested, both the lack of information and the idea of a punishment, for Satya’s notion of such things involved the removal of limbs if not one’s head. At any rate, a knock on the door put an end to the conversation.

“Who?” Alexander began, but his voice wasn’t nearly loud enough to penetrate the solid oak plank.

Satya answered. “I’m afraid
sahib
is indisposed.”

“Nonsense.” Good Lord, it was his aunt. Naturally, she’d be all too happy to take advantage of the situation. While he lay here, unable to speak more than a few words at a time, she could berate him all she liked. “He will see me, certainly, and his children are worried silly. Albemarle cannot abide their badgering any longer.”

He wasn’t convinced the girls ought to see him in such a state, but the chorus of “
Please
” that drifted in from the corridor shut off any protest. He nodded to Satya, who stepped aside and admitted Lady Epperley, his mother, and his daughters. Where was Henrietta? He tamped down a surge of disappointment. Satya had assured him she was unharmed, but he’d still have liked to see the evidence for himself.

“Papa!” Francesca looked ready to pounce onto his bed.

Thankfully, his mother held the girl back. “I don’t think we ought to tire your papa out,” she said with her usual calm, despite the glimmer of worry apparent in her gaze. “You’re here to see with your own eyes that he’ll mend eventually, and then we must let him rest.”

Helena approached more cautiously and laid her hand on the mattress. He curled his fingers about hers and squeezed. “Can’t say much.”

“Does it hurt?” she asked.

He nodded.

“Your papa’s broken his ribs,” his mother pointed out. “Satya will have bound them tightly. I imagine it pains him to breathe.”

“But you’ll be all right, won’t you?”

He nodded again. “A week.” Perhaps more, since this was the second time he’d done a job on the same bones in the space of several days.

Helena watched him carefully, looking for a possible catch.

“Promise,” he croaked. “Be well soon enough.” Now he’d have to live up to that promise, if she was ever going to trust him. His work was cut out for him there, but he hoped she’d remember the hug he’d given her in the cave, and later, when he could speak properly, he could tell her he’d been just as desperate to find her as her sister.

Francesca bounced on the balls of her feet. “Lady Epperley says we’re to have a new mama.”

He pinned his gaze on his aunt, hoping to skewer her the way his daughter’s statement had just stabbed him. “What?”

“Oh, come now.” His aunt waved a bony hand. “It only stands to reason. These girls will be in want of a mother, and now that you’ve got that ruby, it might help you in recovering some of what you’ve lost in the shipwreck. Remember, I’ve already procured the special license for you.”

“Don’t think …” Damn it all, if only he could speak his mind. Leave it to his aunt to broach such a topic when he could not respond properly.

“It is simply a matter of time, and you know, you still might right an old wrong while you’re at it.” The old girl was being oddly cagey about a topic she’d already spelled out for him in detail.

He didn’t trust her for a moment. Despite the pain, he shook his head. “Out.”

“Oh, please, Papa,” Francesca added. “Please can’t Henrietta be our new mama?” Helena, too, watched him with something he hadn’t seen glowing in her eyes in ages—hope. How he wished he could give it to her. How he wished he could retain some for himself.

Damn his aunt for putting such an idea into the girls’ heads. “Satya.” He extended his arm toward the door. “Out.”

Thank the Lord, Satya took him at his word, and herded the others from the room.

Damn his aunt and her meddling ways. Damn him for cocking things up so badly.

His hand strayed across the coverlet, and his fingertips encountered the crinkle of
foolscap. What the deuce? Had his aunt left a parting salvo in the form of that damnable special license? He lifted the scrap. Not a license, but a note. Once more, Patch’s foot seemed to collide with his splintered ribs, the aim directed at his heart. Shite. Henrietta had finally written her resignation.

As soon as she could catch a mail coach, she was leaving for London.

Henrietta rolled the last of her shifts and placed it in her trunk beside her copy of
A Vindication of the Rights of Woman.
All she had left now was to summon a footman or two to transport her things to the village, where she would await the mail coach. It was long past time she quit this place.

A final glance about the chamber revealed she’d forgotten nothing. Everything was packed—all except the newspaper with Lindenhurst’s advertisement for a governess, oddly enough. Just as well. Henrietta did not wish to apply for a position so close to Lady Epperley’s manor. The temptation to look in on Helena and Francesca might be too great. She could not risk running into their father in the future.

A tap sounded at her chamber door. How fortuitous. But upon turning, she found Satya standing in the entry instead of a footman.

“I’ve already bid my farewells to the girls.” She kept her tone brisk. And thank goodness that task was over. Bad enough she had to fend off tears and their pleas for her to stay, Francesca also mentioned something about becoming their new mama.

Only Lady Epperley could have put such an idea in their young heads. To the devil with the old witch and her meddling.

Satya remained rigid, like a foot soldier standing at attention. “I bear a message from
sahib.
”

She couldn’t prevent the scowl. “You may bear my goodbyes back to him. I’m afraid I need to be in the village before too much longer.”

He advanced into the room. “He begs a final audience.”

Audience. How ridiculous. As if she were the queen. “I’m afraid I’ve nothing further to say to him.”

“But he has a great deal he wishes to say to you.” Somehow Satya’s expression softened until his dark eyes reminded her of a puppy’s. “Please, speak to him,
memsahib.
You are his destiny and he is yours.”

She never had been able to resist the pleading of a baby animal, be it feline or canine, but this time she would stand firm. “If that is what you choose to believe, that is your affair. In my opinion, we are each other’s greatest mistake.”

Or loving Alexander was hers, at any rate.

“I tried to tell you before, but you did not understand.” She’d only heard Satya sound this adamant once before—two days ago in the sitting room when he’d insisted the family was safe with him. “He did not love his wife in India. He loved you the entire time.”

“If that were true, he’d tell me himself.” But had he already told her in his way? His words about his wife echoed through her head.

I didn’t care for her the way I care for you.

No, caring was not the same as love. One emotion might lead to the other, but the gap between the two could be narrow or wide, and it might never change.

“I have come to tell you myself.”

Henrietta snapped her head toward the door. “Damnation.”

Alexander clung to the jamb, his complexion pasty, his knuckles white. He looked exactly as he had that day she walked him back from the village after he’d keeled over in Tilly’s shop. And wasn’t it just like a man to rise from his sickbed too quickly? If she concentrated on that thought, she might ignore his statement—words that set her blood racing through her veins. Words that, absurdly, gave her hope.

Her blasted brain seemed to be in conspiracy with her heart, since it insisted on reliving the events of the other evening when she’d entered his room. His lips, his hands, his body on her, in her, filling her. She’d have to live on those sensual memories for the rest of her life. He’d made the physical pleasurable, but too much history lay between them, both old and recent.

“
Sahib,
you should not be out of bed.” Satya rushed to support Alexander, taking his arm, attempting to steer him back into the corridor. “You must return to your room.”

“Your pardon, Satya. I don’t think I could possibly make it back without a rest.” Curse the man, he was nearly smiling. And what he was saying was all too true. “Help me to the bed.”

Henrietta opened her mouth to protest, but closed it just as quickly. The only chair in the room sat against the far wall, and Alexander didn’t look fit to walk the distance. Better he swoon on her mattress, where he might stay, since she intended to vacate this bedchamber as soon as possible.

He stretched out on the coverlet and closed his eyes for a moment, his skin ashen. A swath of cotton tied about his neck brought back memories of a far less pleasant sort—Alexander on the floor of the cave, insensible, hands bound, a knife at his throat.

She could have lost him.
You lost him years ago,
she reminded herself forcibly. Best to dwell on that aspect of their relationship when she was leaving. Once in London, she would immerse herself in her duties as a nursemaid to her brother’s young son and ward. She need
never see Alexander again.

And why should that thought pain her so?

His eyelids fluttered open, and he flicked his head at Satya. “Good man.”

Before Henrietta could say a word against it, Satya bowed and departed. At least he left the door open. If a servant happened by, she’d summon a footman for her things.

“How are you feeling?” she ventured.

“Like an entire herd of elephants used me for a carpet, but I’ll mend.”

Once more in her mind, she saw One-Eye slamming his foot into Alexander’s ribs. “I ought to leave you to it. I can wait in the foyer while the footmen carry down my trunk.”

“Don’t go yet.”

Ah, yes, his declaration. “I’ve very little time if I’m to catch the mail coach today. There won’t be another until next Thursday.”

“I know.” He swallowed. “My aunt, in her magnitude, showed me the letter.”

“I seem to recall you ordering me to let Lady Epperley know of my plans in a timely manner.”

“Yes, one of my better moments.” Irony laced his tone.

“One of your more bullheaded moments, you mean.”

He smiled vaguely. “I suppose so.”

“If you intend on continuing in that vein, I mean to tell you, you cannot talk me out of leaving. I’ve quite made up my mind.” And if she repeated that thought in a firm enough voice, perhaps she’d come to believe it herself. It was one thing to remind herself Alexander was a mistake. Faced with the man, such thoughts leaked from her head like water through a sieve.

“I did not intend to talk you out of it.” He groped in his pocket and produced a familiar-looking red gemstone. “I find it a strange fortune that this isn’t Nilmani’s ruby.”

“Satya considers that stone bad luck,” she pointed out. “Perhaps he is right.”

Alexander cocked a brow. “He holds some odd beliefs.” Indeed, he did. Such as his insistence that she and Alexander belonged to each other. “But since this is not the genuine article, I do not feel honor-bound to restore it to Nilmani.”

“In that case, you might call it repayment for your losses.”

“This is not enough to replace lives.”

“I didn’t mean that. I was referring to the loss of your ship. You can sell the ruby and start again. You can rebuild your family’s fortune.”

He considered the gem. “I suppose I could at that, but I wouldn’t feel right about doing
so. Whatever losses my family has suffered, they are purely monetary. They do not compare to the debt I owe you.”

Something akin to a fist planted itself in her belly, and she expelled a current of air. Good heavens, he meant to give her the stone. Well, she wasn’t having it.

“Me?” She drew herself up. “If you think to buy my cooperation with this, you do not know me at all.”

“Cooperation? What the devil do you mean?”

“Is this about our broken engagement?” She had to concentrate to avoid shouting. “Even if you’ve returned to England, even if you intend to settle here, I will not seek damages. You have my word on that, even if it is the word of a woman and thus inferior. I will not accept anything from you.”

He shifted in the bed, and she was sure he’d have pushed himself upright had he not been injured. “That is not what I mean at all.” His tone hardened. “You had a position here, and because of our history together, because of my ill-considered pursuit, I have forced you out. I cannot repair what’s happened in the past, but I can set you on a path to a better future.”

“I can make my own way, thank you very much.” Even if it did mean returning to her family and starting over. She’d be better off. Wouldn’t she?

“I would still make reparations.” He cleared his throat.

As reluctant as she was to face him, the rumble commanded her complete attention. She met his gray gaze and saw nothing but sincerity. “I sacrificed you unfairly, and that was the biggest mistake I ever made. I recognize that. Now I’m in a position to sacrifice
for
you.”

“But your family. Your girls … Whatever else lies between us, I cannot take this from them when you’ve lost everything.”

“When I’m healed I shall go up to London and see what my other ship was worth. The East India Company will owe me a little from that business. It will have to suffice. Please, can’t you see I’m trying to atone for my errors?” He glanced toward the ceiling. “I thought I might achieve that in renewing my offer to you, but fortune has offered me another way. Honor demands I try.”