Chapter 7 #2
She wanted to believe him. Could she trust him now?
“I know that,” she told him. “As much as I am aware that you meant me no harm that night. The fault lies with my brother.” She laid her head back on the pillow.
“That doesn’t change anything though. The outcome is still the same.
Nothing we say now makes a difference.” She realized then that there was no question in her mind about trust. She had always trusted him.
From that first moment. It wasn’t him she had lost faith in.
It was in herself that she had doubts. She couldn’t trust her own feelings or instincts any longer and that was why she was struggling now.
“It doesn’t stop me from wishing it could have been different,” he continued, his hand brushing hers gently. “Or that I could make it right.”
Jaclyn’s heart raced, her thoughts in chaos. He was being so kind to her. She closed her eyes, exhaustion sweeping over her again. “I... I can’t do this now,” she whispered, her breath coming in shallow waves.
He seemed to understand. “Rest now, Jaclyn. I have kept you awake long enough. I don’t wish to make anything difficult for you. When you wake again, Charlotte will be here.”
But as she let herself drift back into unconsciousness, her thoughts were only of him.
The possibilities were endless. What if they could still have a future?
What if he felt more for her? What if, what if, what if…
The world was full of what ifs, and she could not allow herself to fall into that trap.
There was no what if for her and the duke.
What was done, was done forever. Any chance they had was ripped away from them at Vauxhall and that duel.
There was no Jaclyn and the duke. There was no one for her at all.
Kingston walked into the game room, the dimly lit space offering a welcome escape.
One he desperately needed after his vigil at Jaclyn’s bedside.
The fire crackled cheerfully in the hearth, casting flickering shadows on the walls, while the scent of aged brandy filled the air.
He had come down for a quiet drink, hoping the smooth warmth of the liquor would settle his mind.
His thoughts were consumed with Jaclyn, who had been ill for days after she had nearly drowned in the pond, and his unease over her condition gnawed at him still.
The door to the room creaked open, and Kingston turned, not expecting anyone to disturb him.
To his surprise, standing by the door was the Earl of Foxmoore, looking slightly disheveled but no less regal in his posture.
Kingston raised an eyebrow, his surprise evident.
"Foxmoore," Kingston said, setting his glass down and stepping forward to greet the man.
"I didn't know you had returned to Easton Abbey. "
Foxmoore gave a curt nod, a flicker of something—perhaps fatigue—passing over his face.
"Lady Easton sent word to my wife," he said, his voice laced with a hint of concern.
"Lady Jaclyn had an accident of some sort, and my wife insisted on returning to check on her. We arrived earlier this afternoon."
Kingston's chest tightened at the mention of Jaclyn, and his thoughts immediately returned to the scene of her flushed cheeks and fevered brow. He had been sitting with her before, trying to keep her comfortable, but her condition seemed to worsen as each day passed. He had lied to her earlier. He had not just been in the room to give Lady Easton a break. He had insisted that he be allowed to sit by her side. He still did not know why Lady Easton had acquiesced, but he didn’t question it.
He should have known she would send word to Lady Foxmoore.
They both cared about Jaclyn and were, to his knowledge, her closest friends.
While he had been keeping vigil, he had not been aware that the Earl and Countess of Foxmoore had arrived.
"It is good that you are here," Kingston replied, the words coming slower than usual. "I was with Lady Jaclyn earlier and she will appreciate her friend’s presence. Where is your lovely wife?”
“Georgina has been fretting ever since she got word of her friend’s accident.
” Foxmoore nodded at him and then settled himself into one of the leather chairs.
"My wife is having tea with Lady Easton and plans to sit with Jaclyn later today," he said, his tone matter-of-fact but edged with concern. "She insisted on coming to offer whatever aid she could. She would not have done anything less than rush to be by her friend’s side. She doesn’t have many she can rely upon. "
Kingston felt a quiet relief that Lady Foxmoore had arrived.
He was grateful for her presence, especially given Jaclyn’s worsening condition.
"I’m glad she’s here," Kingston murmured again, his eyes wandering to the window as his thoughts returned to Jaclyn.
"Jaclyn’s fever still has her in a state.
Her cheeks were burning earlier when I spoke with her. "
Foxmoore seemed to say something else, but Kingston’s mind was a thousand miles away, absorbed in his worry for Jaclyn.
He couldn’t tear his thoughts away from her—how feverish and pale she had looked earlier.
His heart clenched, praying she would come through it.
Had she believed him when he told her he cared about her?
He thought he glimpsed disbelief in her feverish gaze, but he couldn’t be certain.
"Amberwood," Foxmoore’s voice cut through his reverie, sharp and pointed. "You’re not listening. I can tell."
Kingston blinked, finally tearing his attention away from the window and focusing on the earl before him. He felt a flush of embarrassment heat his neck. "My apologies, Foxmoore," he said with a slight grimace, "I was distracted."
Foxmoore’s eyes twinkled with knowing amusement.
"Clearly," he said dryly, folding his arms. "I trust your concern is solely for Lady Jaclyn’s health, but I must remind you that there is more at play than merely illness.
" He leaned forward slightly. "You’ve been absent in thought this whole time, my friend. Something weighs on you, and I would wager it is not just Lady Jaclyn’s fever. "
Kingston could feel the heat of his own thoughts rise to his cheeks, a mixture of irritation and something he couldn’t quite name bubbling beneath his chest. He had always considered Foxmoore to be sharp and perceptive—traits he himself wished he could ignore at times.
"You are quite right," Kingston admitted, standing and turning toward the fire, his hands clasped behind his back.
"But for now, I need to focus on Jaclyn’s health. Nothing else matters."
Foxmoore’s silence was brief but knowing. He said nothing more on the matter, but Kingston could tell his old friend had not been fooled. The man always had an uncanny way of seeing right through him. “Very well,” Foxmoore said. “What shall we discuss then?”
Kingston shrugged. “Anything you wish.”
Foxmoore grinned. “We could play billiards so I can trounce you again.”
Kingston rolled his eyes. “I am not inebriated enough to attempt another game with you.” He sipped the brandy he still held in his hand. “Surely there is something else we can do to occupy ourselves.”
The earl’s lips twitched. “We can discuss how you are handling having Lady Easton’s brother visiting.”
That was another topic he did not wish to discuss. “Try again,” he warned.
Foxmoore held up his hands. “I will only say one thing,” he began. “And after that I will not bring it up again.”
Kingston closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He had a feeling he would not like what Foxmoore had to say, but it was best to let him get it out and be done with it. “What is it?” he asked through gritted teeth.
“You know he is friends with Lady Jaclyn’s brother.”
Of course he did… “If you are trying to make a point, I suggest you best get to it. I am fast losing patience.”
“If Lady Easton thought to send word to my wife about Lady Jaclyn’s condition, don’t you think Lord Finley would have done the same for his friend?”
Kingston cursed under his breath. How long would he have until Lord Oakley arrived to check on his sister?
He had a very bad feeling about all of this.
When the earl arrived chaos would ensue, and he should have listened to Jaclyn earlier.
She had been concerned that him being in her bedchamber would be misconstrued and he had dismissed it as nothing.
No one would know. But he had forgotten, momentarily, about Lord Finley.
What if he had told Lord Oakley more than his sister was gravely ill?
Would he have another duel to face in the future?
He scrubbed his hand over his face. What was done, was done.
He would face whatever consequences of his actions.
He had known what he was doing and had not cared.
“You are right,” he told Foxmoore. “He will have sent word.”
“Do you still wish to be here when he arrives?” Foxmoore asked.
“I am not going anywhere,” he said in a seething tone. “I am welcome here. It is Oakley who should tread carefully.”
“Quite true, my friend.” Foxmoore poured a glass of brandy and held it up to him.
“You my friend, have much to face. But do not worry. Easton and I will be by your side for it all. We might be laughing a little.” He grinned.
“Mostly on the inside I assure you, but we will not allow Oakley to goad you into another duel.”
Sometimes he wondered why he liked the earl so bloody much.
Oh yeah, because there was no one more loyal or trustworthy than his two closest friends.
Kendal was a good bloke, but he didn’t compare to the friendship he had with Easton and Foxmoore.
Those two were the ones he always relied on whenever possible.
“Good of you,” he said in a dry tone. “Especially as I do not intend to commit that same folly again.” He finished his brandy and set the empty glass down.
“Now if you will excuse me, I have some plans to make.”
With that he exited the room and left Foxmoore alone with his brandy.
He went in search of the marquess. They would have to ensure that when Oakley arrived, he did not cause mayhem at the abbey.
There was not a doubt in his mind that he would come.
Finley would have sent word and Oakley, the arrogant brute, did care about her.
Kingston expected nothing less from him than a visit to ensure her wellbeing.
It was something he himself would have done in the same instance.
He just wished that he would not have to endure the visit because the last thing he wanted was to spend any time in that man’s company.