Читать книгу The Dangerous Lord Darrington - Sarah Mallory - Страница 9

Martin the footman showed Guy to his room, a comfortable chamber that bore all the signs of having been a gentleman’s bedroom.

‘Was this Mr Forrester’s room?’ he enquired, glancing around him.

‘No, my lord, this was Mr Simon’s room,’ offered the footman. ‘My lady wouldn’t have anything changed in here after she heard he was drowned and you will find the press still full of his clothes. But Mr Simon was much smaller than your lordship, so the mistress has searched out one o’ Mr Forrester’s nightgowns for you. And Mrs Forrester said to tell you that your own clothes will be brought to you in the morning.’

Nodding, Guy dismissed the servant. He removed his coat and draped it over the back of a chair, glad to be free of the restriction about his shoulders. He glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece. It was not yet midnight and, despite the excitement of the day, he did not feel sleepy. He prowled around the room, inspecting the sporting prints upon the walls and idly flicking through the few books that were stacked carelessly on the mantelshelf. The room had a cluttered, lived-in look, as if its master was expected to return at any time. The only exception to this was the dressing table, which was bare of the brushes and combs that one would expect to find in a gentleman’s room. He supposed that Simon Wakeford had taken these items with him when he went travelling and they would have been lost at sea. He felt a sudden sympathy for Beth Forrester. His own brother, Nick, was a sailor and Guy could well imagine the pain of losing him. How much worse must it be for a widow, left to shoulder the burdens of running this old house and at the same time looking after her grandmother and her younger sister?

‘Not that it is any of your business,’ he told himself, coming back to the fire and throwing himself down into the chair. ‘She has made it very plain that you are here on sufferance, so do not waste your sympathy where it is not wanted.’

He began to unbutton his waistcoat, but stopped when he heard a faint cry break the silence. Before he undressed he should look in on Davey and make sure he was comfortable. Picking up his bedroom candle, he let himself quietly out of the room. The borrowed shoes he had worn at supper were too loose to walk without tapping noisily on the polished boards of the corridor and he left them behind, padding silently through the darkened house until he came to the door at the top of the stairs.

There was a faint line of light beneath the door and as he entered the room he saw that a single lamp glowed on a side table, illuminating the curtained bed, but leaving the corners of the room in deep shadow. A movement beside the fire brought him to a stand.

‘Mrs Forrester!’ She rose as he whispered her name, the dim light muting her fiery hair to a deep auburn. He continued, ‘I heard someone cry out and thought perhaps he might be …’

Guy waved towards the figure in the bed. She looked discomposed and took a step as if she would leave the room, then thought better of it.

‘Mr Davies has not moved,’ she said quietly. ‘It must have been a peacock, or some night creature that you heard, my lord. The night time is full of noises.’

He nodded. ‘Of course. But why are you here, ma’am?’

‘Doctor Compton suggested someone should sit with your friend tonight,’ she said softly.

‘But he did not mean you, ma’am.’

She spread her hands. ‘I wanted to be sure he was comfortable. Besides, the servants need to be fresh for their duties in the morning.’

‘And you do not?’ He placed his candle on the mantelshelf before turning his attention to the figure in the bed. ‘How is he?’

‘Still sleeping. He grows a little restless now and again, but nothing serious.’ She added with a thread of humour in her voice, ‘It is very tedious keeping watch over a sleeping man.’

‘Then may I sit with you for a while?’

‘Oh, no—that is, I did not mean to imply …’ Beth trailed off, disturbed lest he should think she had been hinting for him to stay.

‘Of course not, but surely a little company would be welcome to while away the long night hours.’

Beth could not deny it. With a little nod she resumed her seat beside the fire and motioned him to a chair opposite, her eyes dwelling for a while on his stockinged feet.

‘Ah. I did not wish to wake the household by clumping along in those court shoes.’

‘I did not hear you approach; that is unusual for this house—the building is very old, you see. It is full of rattling doors and creaking boards.’

‘I was aware of that as I came along the landing earlier this evening. A person with a more fevered imagination might well have thought there were spirits abroad.’

‘The wind does howl through the corridors and rattle the locks.’ She was glad of the opportunity to explain away any noises he might hear in the night. ‘Some guests think they hear voices, others declare the Priory to be haunted. All nonsense, of course. I hope you will ignore any strange sounds, my lord, and remain comfortably in your bed.’

‘You may be sure I shall, madam.’

They lapsed into silence. After a few moments the earl said slowly, ‘I am glad of this opportunity to speak to you, Mrs Forrester. We have given you a great deal of extra work, I fear.’

‘Think nothing of it, my lord.’

‘But you were very much against my remaining here overnight.’

‘Oh, no! It was … I mean—if I was ungracious, my lord, I beg your pardon.’

‘There is no need. I quite understand, given the circumstances.’

Startled, Beth looked up. What did he know, what had he guessed?

‘My lord?’

‘To have me walk in, wearing your late husband’s clothes. I should have realised how distressing my appearance must be to you.’

‘Oh.’ She breathed again, relieved. ‘I have been a widow for nigh on six years, sir. I barely remember that suit of clothes. Besides, you are nothing like my husband.’ Beth wished she had not spoken. Would he think she was trying to flirt with him? She added hastily, ‘I mean, sir, that Mr Forrester was a very good man.’

‘As I am not?’

‘I have no idea!’ she retorted, flustered.

He laughed at her. ‘I beg your pardon, madam. I could not resist the opportunity to tease you.’

Beth pressed her lips together, determined not to respond, but she could feel the heat in her cheeks and was aware that in other circumstances she would quite enjoy his teasing.

She was thankful when a groan from the bed claimed their attention. Mr Davies was stirring. He was muttering incoherently and Beth picked up a cloth and dipped it into the small bowl on the bedside table.

‘Lavender water,’ she explained as she gently wiped the patient’s brow. ‘It is very soothing.’

However, on this occasion it did not calm Mr Davies, who continued to mutter and began to move restlessly in the bed.

‘Perhaps you should leave him to me?’ suggested Lord Darrington as the injured man cried out and began to curse when the movement tore at his cracked ribs.

‘My dear sir, I am no schoolroom miss! I have heard much worse from my husband and my brother, I assure you. We must give him some laudanum,’ she decided. ‘Can you support his shoulders, my lord?’

The earl proved himself surprisingly useful in a sickroom, using his strength to gently raise his friend while Beth administered the drug. He continued to hold him up while Beth turned the pillows and straightened the covers. Soon Mr Davies was growing calmer again as the laudanum began to take effect and Beth could return to her seat. She wondered if the earl might retire now, but instead he sat down again. Neither of them spoke, yet the silence was not uncomfortable. It was surprisingly companionable sitting together, listening to the steady, rhythmic breathing of the man in the bed and Beth did not wish to break the spell. Her eyelids drooped and she dozed.

It was some time later that Beth woke and noticed that the earl’s bedside candle had burned itself out and the fire was reduced to glowing ash. She reached for the poker, but the earl forestalled her.

‘Allow me.’

She sat back in her chair and watched him as he knelt before the fire, stirring up the embers before building it up with small logs from the basket. He was still wearing the embroidered waistcoat she had found for him. The strings had been pulled tight across the back to make it fit and the white sleeves of his shirt billowed out, accentuating the wide shoulders that she knew lay beneath the soft linen. His movements were quick and assured and he soon coaxed the fire into a blaze. Beth gazed at his face as he sat back on his heels and regarded his handiwork. He had a handsome profile, she decided. The straight nose and sculpted lips would not have looked amiss on a Greek statue, although the heavy black brows and the line of his jaw were a little too strong to be called classical.

He turned his head at that moment and she found herself unable to look away, her gaze locked with his rather hard grey eyes. A presentiment of danger swept over her. She had become far too complacent; it was the middle of the night and they were the only beings awake in this twilight world. Her throat dried. There was a distant cock crow somewhere outside the window.

‘The servants will be stirring soon.’ Her voice sounded strained. ‘Perhaps you should retire, my lord.’ His brows rose and she went on, ‘I know one should not listen to gossip, but I am well aware of your reputation, my lord. We subscribe to the London Intelligencer …’

‘Ah. That explains a great deal.’

She heard the dry note in his voice and added quickly, ‘I am aware that much of what they write is untrue. No one knows better than I—however, it is not wise to be alone.’

‘But we are not—we have Davies here as our chaperon, after all.’

A twinkle of amusement banished the harsh look in his eyes and she found herself responding with a smile.

‘So we have, my lord. But there are some hours yet until breakfast and you should get some rest. You need not be anxious for me,’ she added quickly. ‘My maid is coming to relieve me shortly.’

‘Then if there is nothing else I can do for you, I shall return to my room.’ He stood up.

Intimidated by him towering over her, Beth rose, but even when she drew herself up her eyes were only level with his mouth. She was momentarily distracted by the curve of his lips and the tiny lines on each side of his mouth, indicative of laughter. An entertaining companion. The thought occurred to Beth and was instantly dismissed. She had no time for such luxuries.

‘Thank you, my lord, for your assistance.’

‘It was my pleasure, ma’am.’

With a slight bow he left the room. As soon as the door closed Beth was aware of a chill of loneliness wrapping itself around her.