One Day for a Valet

Chapter 26

Christopher couldn’t help the tenderness with which he cleared her curls from her forehead and pressed his lips against the soft skin he’d uncovered. It would be the last time for such tenderness, so he would allow himself this one final, idiotic indulgence. She would be asleep soon and he would not be there when she woke. He wasn’t sure where he would go, but he could not remain here in this house with her. An extended vacation to see his sister, perhaps? He needed time away to forgive Gabriel once he knew Sofia would be well. Christopher ran his finger along the arm of her shirt… his shirt. The warmth of her skin bled through the thin linen.

Then he forced himself to pull his hands away and turned to flee before he gave into the temptation to crawl into bed beside her like the lovesick fool he was.

Jeremy stepped into his path, arms folded across his chest. Menacing. “So that’s it then? You’re just going to walk away and leave her half dead in her bed.”

“She’s not half dead. Doctor Higgins retrieved the bullet. She’ll be fine, and it doesn’t seem like she lacks friends to attend to her.” Jealousy gurgled hot in his chest at the thought of the other men who would gladly take his place.

“You did your part, I suppose. Whispering all those sweet promises into her ear so you wouldn’t have to feel guilty if she bled out while the doctor worked. What a fantastic man you are.”

“Get out of my way, Jeremy,” he snarled through clenched teeth.

“Don’t worry. I’ll stay and console her. Hold her hand and feed her broth when she wakes up.”

Christopher was on him in an instant, the pain of his swift jab to Jeremy’s jaw reverberating up his arm. Jeremy didn’t fight back and Christopher quickly came to his senses, stalking away before he could seek further relief from the seething anger in his chest.

Every step away from Sofia excised a slice of Christopher’s soul, until he felt as if an inch further down the hallway would leave him empty altogether. He stopped, pressing his palms to the wall, and his head fell forward, heavy with too many feelings.

This is where he had been standing before he’d run to her, where he’d fought and failed to drown out the sounds of Sofia’s anguished cries. Where Gabriel and Violet had stared expectantly at him, waiting for him to intercede. To go to her. To ease her pain at the expense of what remained of his own sanity. And he was angry at them for it. Angry at Gabriel and Violet for their heartless expectations and secrecy. Angry at Sofia for turning him into the sort of monster who couldn’t set aside his own emotions long enough to prevent the woman he loved from suffering. And, in the end, he was angry at himself for being unable to stay away.

His breath sawed in and out of his lungs as he clung to the wall, unable to leave her. Unwilling to go closer. This is what it meant to have your heart ripped from your chest. He wanted it over and done with, the nuisance organ gone entirely instead of pounding in his chest, flooding him with emotions he was loath to feel.

A hand reached out then. It peeled him from the wall and pulled his weight against a warm and blessedly sturdy frame. Gabriel. Christopher slumped against him, exhausted.

“Come along, Keene.”

His feet moved woodenly down the hall and into the study, where he collapsed into a chair. Gabriel filled two snifters and handed one to Christopher, then sat on the chair adjacent and stared into the fire. Gabriel allowed the silence to go on until Christopher could tolerate it no longer.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Christopher squeezed the glass, the tips of his fingers blanching white. “Why did you let her hurt me when your honesty could have protected me from… from this.”

Gabriel’s shoulders drooped. “Had I suspected this when she arrived, I would have told you. But by the time I realised…” He sighed. “By the time I realised, it was already too late. You were too far gone. And if I was wrong or Sofia didn’t know… I had no clue what their intentions were. I meant only to spare you unnecessary pain.” Gabriel’s voice caught. In that moment, thirty-seven years of aristocratic self-possession crumbled, leaving in its place an ordinary, flawed man. A man grief-stricken over his realisation that a choice made in love had wounded instead.

Christopher looked up at him for a long, silent moment, then took a swallow of scotch. “You know that fishing pole you loved?”

Gabriel looked baffled for a moment, then a fraction of his sorrow slipped away and bemusement took its place. “You mean the one you stole and claimed you didn’t?”

“The one your uncle bought for you.”

“That you stole?—”

“I think you were eight?—”

“And claimed you didn’t.”

“It had the ivory handle and multiplying reel.”

Gabriel raised an eyebrow.

“Yes, well, I stole it. I caught a massive fish and the reel broke, so I chucked it in the river and blamed it on your brother. I suppose we’re even now.”

Gabriel chuckled and swirled the drink in his hand, visibly relieved.

Another moment passed, and the levity Christopher had forced into his expression for Gabriel’s sake lost its hold and slipped away again. “What I cannot understand, Gabriel, is why you are so goddamned calm about this. Why are you not every bit as angry as me? She snuck into your home like a snake, tricked your children and the servants—my friends. Made every one of us trust her. Made me love her. She knew the consequences of her actions from the start, knew the damage she would eventually inflict, saw it all, and… she did it anyway. My inevitable heartbreak and the wellbeing of your family weren’t half so important as her momentary pleasure and her brother’s greed.”

Christopher leaned back in the chair, face towards the ceiling, and closed his eyes. They popped open again almost immediately when he was confronted by the memory of Sofia’s wide, distraught eyes. “She never loved me. That’s not love, Gabriel, but she let me throw my heart away for the illusion of it.”

Gabriel stayed quiet, and his placidity only fuelled Christopher’s tirade.

“And despite everything she’s done. Everything she means to do. To you, to Violet, to every member of this estate from the children to the bloody boot boys, still you bring her back here and pay for the doctor to tend to her under the very roof that she schemed to steal from beneath your nose.”

Gabriel looked up, then crossed one leg over the other. “Should I have left her alone in the woods to bleed out? Or I suppose I could have brought her to the inn and summoned Higgins to attend to her there. Would it have been easier for you to never know that she recovered?”

Christopher made a frustrated noise and took a gulp of his scotch. “So you brought her here for my benefit, did you?”

“I brought her here because she is my children’s governess, your lover, and Violet’s friend… and because I am rather fond of her, her purported reptilian tendencies notwithstanding. Christopher, I don’t think she ever wanted to hurt anyone. And I think you know that.”

Christopher gave him a disbelieving look.

Setting down his snifter, Gabriel leaned forward with his elbows resting on his knees, fingers steepled in thought. “I’ve spoken a little with Oliver, and he is rather emphatic that this is entirely his fault. It certainly wasn’t Sofia’s idea. Sometimes there isn’t a great option to be had, and you have to make a choice between two terrible things. It can’t have been easy for Sofia to play a pawn in her brother’s game when her loyalty clearly lies as much with the opposing side. I believe she put herself in the way of a threatening bishop more than once to extend the match.” Gabriel tapped his fingers together. “She showed a great deal of bravery and ingenuity trying to keep everyone around her safe. As for Oliver, I have little doubt about his lineage. He looks just like me and my father. And whether he is illegitimate or the rightful Duke of Northam, he is my brother and he is welcome on this estate.”

After the day they’d had, Christopher hadn’t thought himself capable of further surprise, but shock burned through him. All he could do was stare in astonishment.

Gabriel ignored his dumbfounded expression and continued on. “But none of that matters in this moment. All that any of us care about is Sofia’s welfare. I know you’re angry and I’m not here to tell you that you’re wrong, but if there is the slightest chance your anger will abate, you should be in there beside her, holding her hand. Because I know you, Christopher, and you will never forgive yourself if you walk away. Any fool with a rope can drag a pear tree to a woman’s door, but will you water it when it withers? Will you love her only when she is the easiest to love? Don’t be a stubborn arse. You know I’m right.”

Leaning back in his chair, Christopher crossed one ankle over the other and shot Gabriel an incredulous look. “Yes, because you are so very savvy when it comes to relationships and emotions.” He cocked an eyebrow. “I must be thinking of some other aristocratic friend who worked himself into an adolescent lather over a woman, then spent months pushing her away.”

Gabriel barked out a laugh.

“And certainly, such a wise man would never skulk about the house, breaking random items as a means of improving his wife’s mood. Such a paragon of masculinity would simply reassure her that news of her pregnancy would, in fact, not be treated as a sign of the apocalypse but rather as a reason to celebrate.”

Gabriel waved his words away with a sheepish grin. “Yes, well, I’ve learned my lesson when it comes to squandering time with the woman I love, and now I mean to make you the benefactor of my vast experience.”

“The vast experience you have acquired since the day before yesterday?”

“Precisely.”

Christopher drummed his fingertips on the arm of the chair and sighed. “Love would be so much simpler if it didn’t make us addled.”

“Bollocks. You already know what you need to do. I’ve never met a man more likely to heed the wisdom of his heart over his head. You love her, so fight for her. Or fight with her if you must, but don’t just roll over and quit.”

Christopher thought of his father and the way he had failed to fight for his mother when she walked away. Recalled how he’d banished her from his memory and lived with the empty crater for the rest of his life. There was so much of his father in him, and down to the marrow of his bones, Christopher knew that Gabriel was right. If he did not fight for Sofia, if he allowed himself to be like his father in this way too, he would carry a Sofia-sized crater in his heart forever.

Christopher raised resigned eyes to his friend, then drained the last of his drink. “You are obnoxious.”

“Yes, I love you too. Now let’s go see your little pear tree.” Gabriel stood and started for the door, his footsteps slowing when Christopher failed to follow.

“I walked away when she needed me. Twice I saw the anguish in her eyes and turned my back.” Christopher stared absently at the wall, an unpleasant heaviness spreading in his chest. “What if she won’t forgive me?”

Gabriel’s compassionate gaze sank into him like warm honey. “All my life I’ve watched you be the person you thought others needed you to be,” Gabriel said. “I couldn’t hold a hammer properly, but you held nails for me and let me squash your thumbs because I needed to feel more like a person than a duke’s heir. You packed your feelings into a box to save your father the discomfort of seeing that you still loved the woman he’d come to despise. You never even cried in my presence when Emma died, as if there wasn’t any room for your grief when mine was so very large. And don’t think I don’t understand how that loss hurt you. She was your friend, Christopher. You loved her too.”

Gabriel approached slowly as he spoke, stripping away the distance between them until he stood beside Christopher. “For months, you have loved Sofia, cherishing the parts she let you have while knowing full well there was more she couldn’t bring herself to give. You never pushed.” His hand came to rest on Christopher’s shoulder, heavy and comforting. “I’m not certain if putting your own needs second has become a matter of habit, or if you’re worried others will love you less if you ask for more.”

The inside of Christopher’s nose stung and his throat was achingly tight. Gabriel’s voice dropped in volume but increased in fervour. “I will never love you less. Your feelings are not a burden, Christopher. They are a gift. And Sofia will not begrudge you for expressing them.”

Christopher swallowed past the thickness in his throat, shaping his deepest fears into words. “How do you know?”

Gabriel smiled then. “Because she is a good woman and she loves you. I know because I have been blessed twice with remarkable women who love me despite my many imperfections.”

Trust me to love all the parts of you. He had said that to Sofia. How very difficult it was to take his own advice.

Gabriel took the empty glass from Christopher’s fingers and hauled him to his feet. “And if she can’t forgive you immediately, there are twelve more pear trees in the glass house. I’ll help you haul them up.”

Doctor Higgins had applieda bandage and cleaned his instruments by the time Christopher and Gabriel returned to Sofia’s room. He placed a set of long, pointed tweezers into his bag and turned to Gabriel. “She’s asleep. The bones appeared sound, but I am concerned about infection. I want to stay for the remainder of the night to see that she wakes up all right. Is there a room I can?—”

“Of course,” Gabriel interrupted. “I’ll show you the way. Shall I have tea or a light repast brought up?” Gabriel nodded his approval when Christopher lowered into the chair by Sofia’s bed, and then he led the doctor from the room.

Christopher planted his elbows on his knees and pressed his palms into his eye sockets. “You can’t help who your brother is, but why was the scheming of one drunken, selfish arse more important than the lives of an entire family, a dukedom? Was your loyalty to Oliver worth Zachariah”s safety? Worth Nora’s future and the stability of all the families that rely upon Gabriel? I’m so bloody angry at you.”

A memory forced its way to the front of Christopher’s mind—Sofia’s fragile wrists and the feel of her brittle, malnourished body pressed against his on that first day. Then he became angry all over again with no real foe to fight. “Why didn’t you tell me, Sofi? Why didn’t you trust me to help you?”

The door creaked on its hinges behind him. “She wanted to tell you, but she didn’t want to burden you with keeping something like that from Gabriel. And she couldn’t bear the thought of seeing disappointment in your eyes.”

Christopher whipped around to where Oliver’s large form filled the doorway.

Oliver shook his head with a sigh that reeked of disappointment. “She expected it, you know, for you to walk away just as you did. She couldn’t imagine a person loving her enough to stay. It’s an atrocity that a woman so deserving of devotion has no notion of her own self-worth. When Sofia looks in the mirror, even all these years later, I think she still sees a little girl that even her own mother refused to love.”

Oliver ran his hands through his hair in a manner that reminded Christopher so much of Gabriel he couldn’t help but stare. “It’s one of my many sins that I contributed to that deplorable notion. I have a lot to make amends for. But as sorry as I feel for wreaking havoc on this household, I feel so much worse that, by doing so, I’ve given yet another person the opportunity to make my sister feel small. She doesn’t deserve your abandonment or your poor opinion of her. She’s incredibly brave… and kind. I’m not sure if she ever expected me to stop drinking really. It was just her way of eking out more time to find a solution that didn’t exist. A way to protect you and the Ansons from her big, bad brother.”

Christopher scrubbed his hands across his face. “All right. You’ve said your piece. Now go away, Oliver. I don’t have energy left for you.” When he turned to send Oliver away, Christopher noticed the drink perched between Oliver’s fingers. Scotch. “So help me God, if you take one sip of that I will scrape together the energy to throttle you.”

Oliver smiled. “Why do you care? You hate me, remember? I’m a drunken, selfish arse.”

“Eavesdropping is unbecoming of a duke.”

“Fuck, Christopher. We both know I’m no duke. I mean, I am, but birth order doesn’t a duke make and the British aristocracy is stupid for clinging to the notion that it does. The servants don’t know who I am. No one does except those five men at the card table, and they’re set for a very slow boat ride, far, far away.” He shrugged. “The drink is for you, anyway. I figured you needed it.”

Christopher accepted the glass, immediately draining its contents. It did nothing to soften the uncomfortable burr in his stomach.

Oliver approached Sofia and rubbed his thumb across the frown line present even in her sleep. “Even if I wanted to be a duke—which I absolutely do not—and even if I possessed the skills to do the job adequately—which again, I absolutely do not—I cannot be a duke today for the same reason that I couldn’t be a duke’s heir when I was born. My sire would have left me in a foundling house because he understood it then, just as I do now. England does not have brown dukes.” He pulled the counterpane higher and tucked it snugly around Sofia.

“It’s just as well that Oliver Anson drowned in the sea, because Oliver Lioni is more than satisfied with a life of digging holes and trimming overzealous shrubbery. A life where he can watch his bossy little sister fall in love with a valet who is worthy of her. Where he can finish a day harvesting olives in the autumn, then make piles of leaves for his nieces and nephews to leap into. Oliver Anson can remain at the bottom of the ocean. His existence would only hurt everyone I care about.”

Oliver looked up at the vaulted window, his gaze steady, as if he could see those people and that life playing out for him in the darkness just beyond the glass. Then his gaze cut to Christopher. “And if that wasn’t clear enough for you in your well-deserved, half-drunken, fully belligerent state, I’ll make it clearer. That’s you I’m talking about. You and my sister, eccentric Violet with her sleeve full of insects, Nora, the little hellcat, and sensitive Zachariah. Even that uptight brother of mine is beginning to grow on me… rather like a fungus, really, but he makes it to the list nevertheless.” He took a step closer, then stopped. “I care about you. About all of you. And I’ve never been sorrier for my time as a gluttonous wastrel than I am right now.”

A look of amusement passed over Oliver’s face. “I mean, it wasn’t all terrible. There was a pair of twins I met in a tavern once with the most remarkable flexibility. That part was excellent.” Then he continued, more sombre. “But mostly I just wasted money and hurt people. Neither of which I particularly enjoy doing.” He took one final step closer. “I’m not asking for your forgiveness. I don’t deserve it. But I am asking you to listen. I am so damned sorry. And no matter what happens tomorrow or the next day, I’m going to take the friendship we have, the things you’ve taught me, and hold onto them. I will never stop being grateful to you for helping me find myself again. For giving me my sister back.”

Christopher stood and went to the pitcher, rinsing and refilling his glass with water, then he extended it for Oliver to take.

Christopher raised a brow. “You’re wrong about one thing. You aren’t entirely lacking in ducal skills. In fact, you’re very like Gabriel in your persuasiveness. Annoyingly so.” He smirked, and Oliver met him with a bright smile of his own, which dimmed after a moment and was replaced by an assessing look.

“You haven’t eaten and I’ve made an entire meal of shortbreads. We can’t have you collapsing here on Sofia’s floor, now can we? I’ll bring up a plate.” Oliver closed the door behind him as he left.

Christopher sat on the edge of Sofia’s bed twining her cool, lax fingers with his own. “I’m still angry at you. Livid, in fact. It’s time you wake up so we can have a satisfying row about it. I may even throw something. Something small and harmless like a knitted sock, but I’ll throw it with gusto.” She remained unresponsive, and he smoothed her cold hand between both of his.

“Go ahead and sleep then. You’re going to need all that energy for the fighting when you wake up.” Leaning over her, he brushed a kiss to her forehead.

The hours ticked by and morning arrived, bringing with it a constant rotation of concerned faces. Annie read the newest letter from her beau, Jeremy delivered a bouquet of flowers, and Zach tacked a picture he’d drawn to the wall beside her bed. The doctor repeated his exams, his expression laced with deeper concern each visit. Gabriel and Violet arrived after lunch to pry Christopher from the room so he could bathe and eat a proper meal.

No one who was aware of Oliver’s claim to the dukedom raised the issue. Each seemed to understand that it was a conversation best paused until Sofia was awake and recovering.

Christopher returned five minutes after Gabe and Violet had sent him away, unwashed and holding a chicken leg in his hand. Gabriel sighed with exasperation. “This is not a dining room, that is not a proper meal, and you have… sticky digits.”

“Really Gabriel, you’re a terrible snob. I hear this is how they all eat chicken in the Americas.”

Gabriel stood and rang for a maid, who arrived promptly, then he turned his attention back to Christopher. “All the more reason to utilise cutlery.” Gabriel nodded to the young servant. “Please fetch Mr Keene flatware and a plate before he forgets how to properly articulate his vowels.”

Passing the maid at the door, Oliver arrived with a matching drumstick in hand. “Didn’t I tell you this was easier?” He flashed a smile at Gabriel’s disgusted expression.

“Make that two sets of utensils and plates please, Abigail,” Gabriel called, without expression.

Violet had broken away from the men and was studying Sofia closely. Tension swept over her body.

Christopher abandoned his chicken leg to a handkerchief and washed his hands. When he reached for Sofia, she moaned and turned away. “Christ, she’s hot.” He pressed the back of his fingers to her forehead, then her throat. “She’s burning up. Get Higgins in here.”

He sat down beside her on the bed, running his hand up and down her forearm. “She was fine when I left. How did she spike a fever so fast? Her pulse is racing.” He was painfully aware of his rambling and the three sets of sympathetic eyes fixed on him, but he couldn’t find the will to care if he sounded half mad. It wasn’t as if they didn’t already know. He drew back the bedclothes, but when she shivered, he promptly tucked them back in place and shoved his hands through his hair.

Dr Higgins took one look at Sofia’s flushed face and wet a length of cloth from the pitcher, laying it across her brow. He painstakingly unwound a portion of her bandage, then prodded at the area around her wound, examining. Dr Higgins loomed for long minutes with his fingers pressed to her pulse and a dour expression on his face. Christopher could feel his own pulse throbbing in his temples as he attempted to remain quiet throughout Higgins’s exam. The blasted doctor was taking too long, and the silence scraped across Christopher’s skin like the drag of a serrated knife.

Christopher flinched at the snap of the doctor’s pocket watch as it closed. “I can’t say that I’m surprised to find her febrile today. Frankly, I expected it yesterday. The dressing on her wound was foul, and the bullet remained in her shoulder far longer than I would have liked.”

“Yes, but I can’t do anything about that now,” Christopher said, his voice rising with every word. “I couldn’t do anything about that then. What can be done for Sofia now?”

“There isn’t much. Keep her cool, try to get liquids into her, and give her willow bark for the fever and inflammation. I don’t know if she can hear you, but it can’t hurt to talk to her. Let her know you’re here. If her fever gets any higher, give her a cool bath—not cold. I must check in on my other patients, but I’ll be back as soon as I’m able.”

The moment the others filed out behind Dr Higgins, Christopher pulled off his boots, stripped off his waistcoat, and crawled on top of the covers to lie beside Sofia. He pressed his face into her curls and closed his eyes.

“The picnic and the pear trees, I want all that with you. I need you to stop this nonsense and get better now. I’m so sorry I left you alone. I’m sorry I didn’t take you into my arms the moment you were safe from those wretched men.”

Reflecting upon the person he’d become when he gave free rein to his anger, Christopher’s breaths grew sharp and shallow. “I love you so much, and I need you to wake up and tell me you love me too. Or tell me I’m an idiot, but please, please just wake up, sweetheart.”

He told stories about the life he imagined for them, the cabin by the lake he would build… or have workers build because he was never as clever as Gabriel with a hammer. He talked about his mother and the day she left. When he ran out of stories and the energy to make up more, he told her what he would have for breakfast in the morning. On and on he spoke until his voice was rough and his mouth parched.

When Christopher looked up, the sun had set. He found more strips of cloth and re-wet the ones that had warmed. Despite his efforts, her skin was like fire and she squirmed beneath the gentle stroke of his hand, murmuring incoherently. Christoper cursed, reaching for the tea the doctor had left and holding it to Sofia’s lips.

“Sofi, sweetheart. I need you to be still so I can get this blasted medicine into you. Please, love.”

“No, Oliver. Don’t leave! I’ll talk to Papa. Please don’t leave me alone.” Sofia writhed, spilling the tea on the counterpane.

Christopher tried to steady her but she only grew more frantic. “Hush, sweetheart. You’ll hurt yourself. Oliver is just down the hall. He came back.” His voice cracked, and he swallowed hard, not wanting her to hear the worry in his voice if she could hear him at all. “Easy Sofi, I’ll make it better.” He reached for the bellpull and Jeremy stepped in. “Get Oliver or Gabriel. Or both. Get someone.”

Oliver arrived first, followed promptly by Gabriel.

“Has Higgins returned?” Oliver asked, no doubt taking in the situation at a glance.

Christopher threw back the blanket that still covered her. “No. And she’s burning with fever. She thinks she’s back in Tuscany and she’s looking for you. I need help to get more of Higgins’s tea into her. She won’t be still.”

Oliver slid behind Sofia to steady her, but she only grew more irritable. More tea sloshed down her chest.

“Miss Lioni,” Gabriel said. Christopher baulked at his commanding tone, but she stilled immediately. “Miss Lioni, you will cooperate now and let us help you.”

The thrashing resumed.

“Excellent use of your ducal authority, brother.” Oliver cut him an annoyed glance and Gabriel narrowed his eyes.

Ignoring the brief, silent standoff between the brothers, Christopher stroked Sofia’s hair. Again, her response was immediate but brief.

Oliver made an unimpressed noise in the back of his throat.

“I’m going to lay you flat if you don’t shut your mouth,” Christopher hissed through gritted teeth.

Ignoring the threat, Oliver spoke softly to his sister instead. “Piccola pulce, ascolta tuo fratello e smettila di renderlo difficile. Devi prendere la tua medicina prima che Christopher diventi violento con me.”

Her eyelids fluttered, and she immediately relaxed.

Gabriel clapped Oliver on the shoulder then spoke in his own silky Italian tongue. “Quella è una brava ragazza. Bevi questo e poi potrai riposarti di nuovo.”

The liquid went down easily then, with scarcely a drop lost. Christopher let out a long breath.