Chapter Twenty-One
Teddy wasn’t sure how much time had passed when the tall wall clock chimed once.
He wasn’t even sure if the chime indicated half past one, two, or three, and he didn’t much care.
Lying on the sofa, save for one of his legs crooked over the side, he and Georgina tangled in each other’s arms and still connected in the most intimate way possible, Teddy could only marvel at the turn his life had taken.
He’d been so bloody angry when he realized the cruel trick his family had played on him in the name of helping him. But if his family hadn’t dumped him at Bell Haven, he wouldn’t be here now.
“Darling, would you really have left me at my parents’ home, indefinitely, without coming to claim me?” he asked her.
“Mm?” she mumbled sleepily.
He drew his head back to look at her. She’d fallen asleep.
He brought a fingertip to brush one of her fringes of thick, springy dark lashes, delighted when she wrinkled her nose in reaction. He must sketch her, in this exact repose.
He studied her, committing her face, her loosened bodice, exposed stays and mouthwatering cleavage to memory. She was so damned sweet, so generous with her affection—and her body. How had he earned such devotion, he wondered?
You must be the best, at everything, show no chink.
The words—his father’s—reverberated in his head, eminently unwelcome. He did not care for these flashbacks of his father.
His drunk father.
He could see him, wagging a crystal cut glass in his fist, eyeing Teddy as if he were the scourge of the nation.
Show no chink. Shame yourself and you shame me.
He must’ve tensed, because Georgina’s eyes winked open. “Darling? What is it?”
Georgina hadn’t mentioned anything about his father’s predilection for overimbibing when he’d asked about his home life.
She hadn’t known, which meant he hadn’t told her—and he damned sure didn’t want to tell her, now.
For God’s sake, add it to the growing list. In this instance, however, he understood that to do so would be to reveal a deep, festering chink, something he’d been trained from birth never to do.
Yes, he knew that, like he now knew his future was to live up to his father’s title. Feeling sick, he nevertheless managed a carefree smile and eased himself out of her warmth.
She reacted, reaching for him as if she didn’t wish to let him go.
“Now, darling,” he drawled, suppressing the warmth her unguarded response heralded in him, then untangled his limbs from hers and rose.
“You very distinctly informed me of your need to work.” Resisting the urge to help her right her bodice and skirts, he turned his back on her, refastening his pantaloons and retucking his shirttails en route to the door.
“You’re going, then?”
“I am. Danvers is probably climbing the walls, trying to do your bidding. It’s certainly past time for my medicine. I’m surprised you haven’t pointed that out.”
“Of course. Silly of me.”
Glancing over his shoulder at her, he sent her a cavalier nod, or meant to. For a moment all he could do was stare at the vision she made while his insides churned.
Her silvery eyes softened and she sent him one of her angelic smiles.
Show no chink.
Jamming a hand through his hair, he faced forward and strode for the door.
“What about the newspaper you brought?”
“There’ll be another tomorrow. May I suggest you retie your bodice, my dear?” he offered dryly, before unshooting the lock.
“Yes, of course.”
He waited until he heard the whisper of fabric that told him she’d set about righting her clothing, then let himself out.
Later that evening, Georgina descended the stairs for supper, a distinct sense of unease whispering through her.
Last night, this morning, and this afternoon with Teddy, had been nothing short of heaven on earth. The pretend marriage ceremony, his sweet attentions to her person, and making love, all conspired to make her feel…well, how she imagined a newlywed wife, married to the man of her dreams, might.
But then, this afternoon, after they’d made love on the sofa, something had changed. One minute she was basking in love’s sweet afterglow, convinced Teddy was as replete and content as she. The next Teddy couldn’t get out of the chamber quickly enough.
She reached the dining room entrance, and was not surprised to see that Teddy was not in attendance.
Perhaps he was merely minutes behind her.
She’d eyed the closed guest chamber door when she returned to her bedchamber to dress for dinner. Pausing in the corridor to listen, she heard movement. She hadn’t expected that Teddy would continue to use the guest room, not that they’d discussed him moving his things into the master suite.
Passing by en route to the stairs just now, his door—the guest chamber door—was still closed, but a thin seam of light had burned along the frame.
Surely that meant he’d be down soon.
When the maid came in with dinner for one, Georgina guessed he’d sent word to the kitchens that he would not be in attendance.
She could confirm her suspicions, if she but asked, but could not bring herself to admit aloud that he had notified the servants—and not her, his wife.
His wife. Even in the privacy of her own thoughts she was confusing herself with Teddy’s actual wife.
What a mess. What a perfectly torrid affair she’d initiated, she thought, spooning up the crab bisque set before her.
She forced herself to eat. Not wanting to waste food, though, in truth, the longer she sat here, without Teddy, the less appetite she had.
She glared at the ceiling. How dare he put her through this. If she had said or done something off-putting, he should speak up, not leave her to suffer with this not-knowing.
Not-knowing.
Teddy suffered with that. Had it ever really occurred to her how horrible that might feel?
Peggy shuffled back into the dining room. “Madam, pardon the interruption, but before I forget, Cook bid me ask you something.”
“Oh?”
“She wishes to know what you’d like done with the herbal tisane delivered to the kitchens the night you arrived home with the master.”
Georgina blinked, trying to make sense of Peggy’s question. “I beg your pardon?”
“The tisane, ma’am. Pardon my saying, but Cook says it has a foul odor. She’s kept it in the pantry, but seeing as no one’s seen fit to use it, now wonders if it couldn’t be stored elsewhere, or, perhaps, disposed of all together.” Peggy waited, her expression expectant.
Georgina surged to her feet. “Show me.”
For a moment, Georgina could only stare at the bag Dr. Penhurst had sent home with her from Bell Haven. Anger ignited within her, a tiny flame that swiftly spread ’til it threatened to consume her.
Teddy had promised her he’d take his required doses. Danvers had sworn to administer the tisane, three times a day. Neither had honored their word. Both had lied, right to her face.
First, she would brew the tea. Then she would march it up to Teddy’s chamber. After that, she would inform Mr. Danvers his services were no longer required.
“Put the kettle on, Peggy, and bring a fresh pot.”
“Yes, ma’am,” the maid murmured, eyes wide with evident anxiety, and set off to do Georgina’s bidding.
Trembling, Georgina glanced about her. “Where is a scoop? I need a scoop.”
“Aye, milady,” Cook said, as she, too, bustled to obey.
Then both women seemed to freeze in place. They eyed the doorway as if seeing an apparition. A moment later, a shadow fell over Georgina. Mr. Danvers.
She turned her head to glare at the butler. “Mr. Danvers, what brings you to the kitchens?” Her words could have cut glass.
He nodded once in turn at Peggy and Cook, sending both scurrying from the room.
Georgina watched their flight, flabbergasted by their desertion. “Now, see here,” she began.
Mr. Danvers paid her no heed. “Let them go, ma’am. I’m thinking you’re wanting an explanation, and, I’m also thinking you’ll be glad of the privacy, once you hear what I have to say.”
Struggling to steady her breathing, she nodded. “An explanation would be most welcome. You disobeyed a direct request. Not only that, you lied about it. I trusted you, Mr. Danvers. Your betrayal comes as a very great shock.”
Damn her eyes, she was on the verge of tears. With effort, she tamped down her temper and met his dark gaze.
“I understand. I shall do my best to explain, and afterward, will pack my belongings.”
“Go on.”
The whistle on the kettle began to sing.
With deliberate movements, Mr. Danvers, who evidently knew his way around the kitchen, retrieved a hot mitt and pulled the kettle from the open flame.
“When you arrived with Lord Arlington in the state he was—half inebriated and unkempt—I admit to suffering no small shock. I first assumed he’d gone the way of many an ex-soldier, taking up the drink while losing self-respect. I knew of him, you see, your husband.”
Some of the heat went out of her, as an innate curiosity took hold. She found herself thirsty for any information about Teddy from the war. “Knew of him? How do you mean?”
“Lady Arlington, your husband is, in soldiers’ circles, something of a legend.” His lips twitched. “But if you tell him I said so, I’ll deny it to my last breath.”
She resisted the urge to smile at the man, though it was hard. Especially as pride over Teddy’s evident accolades swelled within her. “Go on.”
“He’s a hero. He was known for his valor, his courage, and to be frank, his mad daring. He, an officer, was regularly said to go into the hairiest situations to rescue troops. Sometimes, his antics saved scores of men, sometimes, just one.”
“I see.” Georgina wasn’t sure how to feel about this. So many emotions swirled through her. Pride for his courage. Fear that he could have died. And anger, for his foolhardy actions. She blinked back tears and nodded for Danvers to go on.
“So when I saw him, a seeming drunkard, my sympathies went out to him. Then I noted his pupils.”
She folded her arms over his chest as a cold chill danced up her spine. “I never noticed anything odd about his pupils.”
“Yes, well, you weren’t ever in war time, were you, milady? You don’t know the signs that a man’s been fed drugs.”
She began to understand where he was going, and she softened toward his cause—wrong though he was.
And there would still be consequences. “Mr. Danvers, the fact you witnessed some horrid things on the battlefield does not excuse your decision to keep vital medicine from my husband when I expressly told you he needed that tincture for his recovery.”
“Are you so sure he did?” he asked her in his calm, dignified manner.
She took instant umbrage. “I was told so by the doctor.”
“I see.” He lifted the bag and sniffed its contents, then made a face.
“I can’t speak to whatever physician you hired, but I can speak to certain drugs and their effects, thanks to my experience in the field.
I can tell you what is prominent within this concoction is something called henbane.
It’s got many uses as a sedative and pain reducer.
In sufficient doses it also causes hallucinations, nightmares, gaps in memory.
Continued use is not recommended. Too much ingested can lead to death. ”
“Death!” she burst out. “I’m sure you must be mistaken.”
“I’m not. Madam, it speaks well to Lord Arlington that he did not prefer his mental faculties addled.
I understand he has lost his memories thanks to a head injury.
I submit to you that taking this particular medicine would not have helped him to recover them, and may have had dire consequences with continued ingestion.
Do you know the physician who prescribed this poison? ”
“Poison?” Her knees went wobbly and she grasped the edge of the nearest worktable. “It’s not. It’s medicine. He…needs it.”
“Does he? Is he not more himself this last week?
Are not his memories slowly returning? His nightmares receding?
My word may mean little to you at this point, but I vow to you, I have kept my eye on Lord Arlington, specifically looking for any sign of him being a danger to himself—or you—and aside from a small tendency towards arrogance, have seen nothing to indicate he poses a menace.
“Madam, I understand if you choose to send me off without a reference, and will go this very night. But I must beseech you not to resume poisoning Lord Arlington, your wedded husband, with this so-called tisane. He deserves better.”
She closed her eyes, briefly. “Henbane, you say.”
“Aye.”
“Used for the treatment of wounded soldiers?”
“When laudanum became scarce, milady.”
And she’d nearly forced Teddy to take it.
He’d tried to tell her how much he hated it.
And hadn’t he been improving day by day—no thanks to her, of course.
But thanks to this man—this dear man she realized now—who’d risked his own neck, his own security, out of respect for a man he’d never met, and whose prowess on the battlefield had earned his respect, Teddy would heal and be restored.
“Please see this destroyed, Mr. Danvers.” She picked up the bag and shoved it toward the butler, then started, somewhat unsteadily, from the kitchen.
“Do you need assistance, ma’am?”
“No,” she replied, drawing herself upright with effort.
“And shall I depart tonight, or on the morrow?” he asked, quietly.
She paused, then glanced back at him, meeting his dark gaze. “You shall not depart, Mr. Danvers. You have performed a great service for this household. However, if, in future, you see a compelling need to countermand one of my, or my h—” She broke off, aghast as a horrific realization dawned.
She’d been going to say, or her husband’s directives, but Teddy wasn’t her husband. Not really.
But she’d claimed he was, her lie necessitated by the need to assure herself he took the medicine. Medicine he hadn’t actually needed. She hadn’t needed to lie. She swallowed.
Suddenly, it was all too much to bear.
“Milady, you look quite pale. Shall I fetch Lord Arlington?”
“No!” she cried, then, covering her mouth with one hand, all but ran from the kitchen and up the two flights of stairs, desperate to reach her bedchamber as tears spilled down her cheeks.
She’d brought him here, claimed marriage, fabricated tales, all in the name of helping Teddy recover. What had she done?