29. Chapter 29
twenty-nine
T he telegram came soon after Jenny attempted to banish David to London.
It was as if the fates had aligned to make certain her wishes were carried out.
He’d been in the midst of deciding if he should attend the performance that night or give her the space she requested when the missive from Kit was delivered.
Our dear Alfred has been in an accident. Come at once.
That decided it. David had to go to London.
He wasted little time. He packed a traveling case, made one necessary detour, and headed for the train station. He traveled all night and arrived at the family’s Berkeley Square house early the next morning.
David barely spared the footman who answered the bell a glance. He didn’t want to find out the worst had happened from the man’s expression. “Where is my brother?” He dropped his bag by the front door and handed off his hat and gloves.
“In his rooms, my lord.”
David took the stairs two at a time and sprinted down the hallway to Alfred’s door. He flung it open to find Kit in a shocking state. The man was slumped in a chair beside Alfred’s bed, looking pale and rumpled in a way David had never seen him look before.
“David.”
He rose the second David came inside and met him in the small antechamber between the bedchamber and the door.
Kit was obviously beside himself with worry.
His shirtsleeves were wrinkled as if he’d slept in his clothes from the day before and he wore no coat.
His thinning hair had been hastily brushed through with his fingers.
If the sparseness of the telegram hadn’t been a clue to the severity of the accident, then the drastic change to Kit’s usual tidy appearance certainly was.
David’s stomach dropped. “What’s happened?” His gaze traveled past Kit’s shoulder to the bed in the next room. He could make out the shape of his brother’s form beneath the blankets. “Is he…?” He couldn’t say it.
“He’s resting,” Kit hurried to assure him. “He took a terrible spill when he was riding in the park.”
“A spill? He’s an expert rider.”
Kit nodded. “We arrived home very late in the evening because of a train delay. He’d only had a few hours sleep and shouldn’t have been up early riding, but you know how fastidious he is about his routine.
Apparently, it rained every day while we were away in Paris.
The horse hit a spongy patch of ground along the edge of a ridge and fell out from under him.
It wouldn’t have been more than a few bruises but Alfie rolled down the incline and landed on a fallen branch with enough force to fracture his ribcage.
The physician believes one of his ribs punctured a lung. ”
David felt his entire body vibrating as the apprehension and dread that had been his sole companions all night suddenly had nowhere to go now that his journey had come to a stop.
“Come.” Kit led him to an armchair and David followed him blindly. “Sit.”
David sank into the cushioned seat, feeling heavy and exhausted. “What is his prognosis?” he whispered .
“He’s strong. Dr. Abbott believes that he has a chance for a full recovery. Unfortunately, a mild fever developed overnight. We’ll need to keep an eye on that.”
David stared at his hands. He imagined this is how Alfred felt when he’d been told about the accident that killed their parents.
Adrift, lost…abandoned. Except he’d been a child.
David was a fully grown adult, but he’d never had to navigate life without his brother and he didn’t want to.
Alfred was the solid and annoying presence that had guided David through every questionable decision he’d ever made.
No matter the outcome, David had always known Alfred would be there, and now, suddenly, he wasn’t. He might never be again.
David might become the duke. Bloody hell.
“David.” The raspy voice floated across the deep shadows of the room.
He would have thought he imagined it if Kit hadn’t taken in a quick breath. They both rushed to Alfred’s side. David grimaced at the sight of him. His skin had a slightly gray pallor and his breathing was ragged and slow, as if it was a hardship to breathe. Kit put a hand on David’s shoulder.
Alfred opened his eyes, mere slits that glittered in the semi-darkness of the room. “David.”
“I’m here, Alfred.”
Kit slid the chair he’d vacated close and David sat down and took hold of his brother’s hand, careful not to shift the mattress. He was heartened when Alfred gave his fingers a solid squeeze.
“I need to know that you’ll live up to your responsibility,” his brother whispered.
If he died? Alfred was making certain David would take over if he died. “No, Alfred. You aren’t allowed to talk like that. Nothing is going to happen to you. You’ll recover. ”
Alfred gave his head a sharp shake and then groaned as pain no doubt radiated through his body from the quick movement.
David regretted making him cross. Alfred took in another ragged breath and then coughed.
Kit quickly moved forward and pressed a clean handkerchief to his mouth.
The white cloth came away with spots of blood, and David’s body went cold.
He noticed then that his brother’s lips were tinged with blue.
“Listen.” Even though he was lying supine and an invalid, the authority of his voice cut through the room.
David felt his nerve endings stand at attention.
“I must know that you will do your duty and serve our people well.” Alfred paused to take a fortifying breath.
David opened his mouth to again urge him not to speak of death, but Kit clamped a hand on his shoulder.
“Let him speak,” he said.
After an interminable pause, Alfred continued in a labored voice, “You once told me that you planned to inherit and leave for Italy or Greece.”
The pain of that reminder shot right through him like a poison-tipped dart.
David would like to be able to say that those had been the words of a child, but he’d said them last year.
His displeasure at being named heir when he should have been able to lead a much different life that wouldn’t eventually involve politics and Parliament seemed to belong to a different man.
He’d watched snidely as Devonworth, who’d inherited his title earlier than most, picked up the mantle of responsibility and become a boring shadow of the man he had been.
His life had been taken up with bills and acts and calls for reform.
That world had been foreign and tedious to David.
It still was. He still could never see himself becoming a man who spent his mornings poring over newspapers and preparing speeches and his afternoons in Parliament listening to one droll politician after another, only to spend his evenings dining and dancing with the same.
But now he knew it didn’t have to be that way. He had Jenny. Or he’d had her.
Jenny had lit his life on fire. He’d been drawn to her spark from the first moment he’d seen her in Camille’s ballroom.
He’d instinctively known that her flame would burn through the haze of such monotony.
Together they could laugh at the absurdity of politics and old men who rebuked progress while working to make the world better. He could do this—with her.
Only, she wasn’t here. She’d told him she didn’t need him. He’d foolishly thought he could force her to stay.
He was always choosing her and she’d only chosen him when he seemed the lesser of all evils.
He’d have to do it without her.
“Will you, David?” Alfred whispered, his voice weaker than before.
“Yes, Alfred. I will stay and make you proud. I’ll do my duty to the title. I promise.”
His brother didn’t smile but the tension around his mouth eased. He relaxed into his pillow and his breath came out in a broken sigh. His fingers released their hold on David’s.
“You’re a good lad,” Alfred whispered, eyes closed.
A lump swelled in David’s throat and he leaned forward and pressed a hand to his brother’s cheek to find it warm. Alfred took in another shallow breath and settled into sleep.
“You’ve put him at ease,” Kit whispered and hurried to exchange the compress on Alfred’s head for a cool one. “Thank you.”
“I shouldn’t have made him worry. I should never have said that I’d leave. ”
“I had no doubt you would do your duty. Deep down he knew it, too, but his nature is to fret.”
David laughed without mirth. “How did you know? I didn’t even know.” He’d been serious when he’d threatened to leave for Greece.
“Because you are a good man, David. Besides that, our little Dove wouldn’t tolerate anything less from you.”
That last bit had been said in jest but there was a ring of truth to it. Apparently, everyone knew how he longed for his bride’s approval. He didn’t have the heart to tell Kit that Jenny wanted to divorce him.