Regency Secrets: My Lady's Trust. Julia Justiss
avoid a more protracted conversation over biscuits and tea.
The arrival of his lordship’s sister, however, meant she would soon be able to return home. An unexpected ambivalence dampened the surge of relief she’d anticipated at that reprieve.
Swallowing her protests over windblown hair and grubby gown, she followed the squire to the south parlor.
She refused to glance at Lord Beaulieu during the short walk. Drat, how the man unsettled her! Just when she’d thought they’d developed a comfortable rapport, nurse to patient’s elder brother, he had to intrude again upon her senses with his tantalizing, dangerous appeal.
That so small a gesture as his lips brushing her palm could evoke so agitated a response only underscored she was a fool to believe she could remain a detached acquaintance. His very presence stirred both memories she’d rather suppress and longings she could scarcely put a name to.
She’d do better to follow her original plan of avoiding him.
By the time she reached that conclusion, the squire had ushered them into the parlor. A beautiful, ravenhaired lady with the earl’s dark eyes rose as they entered.
“Beau!” She held out her arms.
The earl strode over to envelop his sister in a hug. “How glad I am to see you, Ellie! But you’re so pale. A difficult journey? Or did this scamp worry you to death?”
He turned to catch a child who hurtled into the room at him. “Uncle Beau! Do not tease Mama! She’s been sick, so I’ve been ever so good. Did Uncle Kit really get his arm—eeh!” The rest of her sentence ended in a squeal as Beau tossed her into the air.
Laura looked at the small face, rosy-cheeked with excitement, the plump arms clasped about Lord Beaulieu’s neck, and a painful contraction squeezed her chest. My Jennie, she thought, helpless to stop the wave of grief that swept over her.
By the time Lord Beaulieu deposited the girl on the sofa, she’d managed to form her lips into a smile.
“Stay still, imp!” his lordship ordered, and turned to the ladies. “Ellie, I have the honor to present Mrs. Martin, the lady whose skillful hands kept our graceless brother from a premature demise. Mrs. Martin, this is my sister, Lady Elspeth, and her daughter, Lady Catherine.”
Laura rose from her curtsey to find his lordship’s sister gesturing to her. “Come, Mrs. Martin, sit beside me. How can I ever thank you for saving Kit?”
“His lordship’s physician deserves the credit, my lady. I merely kept watch,” Laura said, reluctantly taking the seat indicated.
“‘Twas much more than that, I’m told! But I must apologize for taking so long to arrive. As Catherine mentioned, I haven’t been … well, and was forced to take the journey in much shorter stages than I should have liked.”
The earl’s face clouded. “What is it, Ellie?”
She patted his hand. “Nothing alarming, so you may lose that worried look! Though I fear I shall not be as much help to you as I’d hoped. I’m … I’m breeding again, you see.” A smile of rapturous delight lit her face.
Lord Beaulieu leaned over to kiss her. “I know how happy that makes you. But after the difficulties you’ve had since Catherine’s birth, was it wise to travel? I’m delighted to see you, of course, but I’m also astounded, given your condition, that Wentworth allowed you to come.”
Lady Elspeth’s smile turned impish. “He didn’t. He was in London preparing for another tiresome diplomatic mission when your message arrived. I expect he’ll be furious when he gets my note, but … oh, Beau, useless as I may be, I couldn’t bear to remain away with Kit so ill!”
She turned appealing eyes to Laura. “We’re hopelessly clannish, Mrs. Martin. And so, having barely met you, I must beg a favor. I’ve suffered two … disappointments since Catherine, and much as I want to care for Kit I know I must rest and conserve my strength. Can I prevail upon you to remain until Dr. Mac feels he no longer needs constant nursing?”
A whirlwind of surprise, consternation, fear—and a guilty gladness disordered Laura’s thoughts. From the confusion, only one conclusion surfaced clearly. As a healer, she could not abandon her patient until her services were no longer needed. She would not be leaving.
She curtsied once more. “My hearty congratulations at your good news, my lady. Of course, if Dr. MacDonovan, his lordship, and you all think it best, I shall remain.”
“I’m sure the doctor will add his pleas to Ellie’s,” Lord Beaulieu said. “You know how much I myself value your skill, Mrs. Martin.”
The warmth of his tone, the compelling gaze he focused briefly on her before turning to the child pulling impatiently at his coat sleeve, left her stomach churning even as the protective part of her brain warned that remaining was a very bad idea.
“I want to see Uncle Kit! I want to see his shotted arm. You have the bullet?”
“Catherine, please!” the child’s mother protested, but Lord Beaulieu merely laughed. “Bloodthirsty chit. If the doctor says Kit is up to the visit, you may see him. But no probing his wounds! It will hurt him too much, poppet.”
The girl’s bright eyes dimmed briefly, but she nodded. “I won’t hurt Uncle Kit. Take me now?”
“If you’ll permit, I should withdraw and rest,” Laura inserted quickly and rose to her feet. “Lady Elspeth, Lady Catherine, a pleasure to meet you. My lord.” She curtsied, eager to quit the room before he could protest.
“I must rest, as well,” Lady Elspeth said. “Indeed, I only returned to the parlor after our arrival because I wished to meet you, Mrs. Martin, at the first possible instant. Shall you be down for tea? I should very much like to become better acquainted.”
Not if I can help it, Laura thought. “I’m afraid not, ma’am. I must rest if I am to watch through the night.” “Of course. Perhaps you can visit with me tomorrow? I have not yet begun to thank you! And as my brothers will warn you, once I determine upon something, I’m most horribly persistent.” The engaging smile which accompanied those dire words belied their threat.
“As you wish, my lady. Good day. And thank you again, my lord, for driving me to the garden.”
That summary of their afternoon together should put the interlude in proper perspective, Laura thought as she escaped from the salon.
“Beau, escort me to my chamber, please?”
“Ride me on your shoulder, Uncle Beau!”
Grinning, Beau bowed. “As my ladies command.” After inducing a series of giggles by throwing Catherine up to her post, he offered Ellie an arm. “Are you truly ‘fine’? Wentworth would never forgive me were something to happen to you while under my care. Nor should I forgive myself.”
“You know I want this too badly to take any risks. It nearly drove me mad to progress so slowly, but I forced myself to call a halt as soon as I tired or,” she added with a rueful grimace, “when the motion of the carriage overcame me.”
“Mama casts up her accounts,” Catherine informed him. “Mostly every day. It’s nasty.” She wrinkled her small straight nose.
“Nasty indeed,” her mama agreed with a sigh. “I shall be just as comfortable here as at home, and easier of mind, since I can see myself how Kit progresses. So if … something should happen, you cannot be blaming yourself.”
Beau grimaced. “Is it so obvious?”
Lady Elspeth squeezed the arm she held. “Mac told me you had a cot placed so near Kit’s bed, his every restless breath woke you. And that you scarcely slept or left his side the whole first week, as if you would hold him to life by strength of will alone.” She paused, then added softly, “You cannot keep us from all harm, Beau.”
The sound of a horse’s scream, the smash