Fortescue, who had been conferring with the cook, stepped forward. “I shall have your case brought to your bedchamber. Will you have other things?”
“No. Just a uniform in need of cleaning, a commendation I do not want, and discharge papers.” Again, I gestured to my arm. “Not useful for anything at this point. A cavalryman without a sword arm is pointless.”
“We have use for you here.” Percy tilted his head. “You have been missed.” Then, as if realizing his words, he added, “My lord.”
The position in which I found myself upon my return required formality. I hoped, once we were alone, but we might return to the informality of our youth. We had been friends once. Although our positions dictated that could no longer be the case, my fervent wish was that he could remind me of the time when I had been content.
Before Caroline.
Before the debauchery.
Before the war.
And, finally, before every person in my family died.
Everyone except my niece, Isabella.
“How is the child?”
Percy smiled. A soft and gentle smile that lit his eyes. “She does well, my lord. A healthy set of lungs, which she uses frequently. Mrs. Fernsby dotes on little Isabella.” His expression darkened for a moment. “Her child died of a fever, and her husband died a day later. She…”
“Needed employment.”
“Yes.” His nose twitched. “She also needed a purpose. Isabella has given her that. I cannot fathom her loss, but she smilesaround me, continuously demonstrating how your niece grows stronger every day.” He smiled. “You may be very proud.”
If only I did not have such…animosity…toward her parents.I had yet to forgive Caroline and William—my own elder brother—for the treachery. Their complete indifference to my feelings. Those feelings had turned to hate.
Yet, slowly, that hate was abating.
Their untimely deaths—mere months apart—left me with more sadness than glee at having lost two people I disliked so intensely.
“Once I am clean, I would like to see both Isabella and Mrs. Fernsby.”
“Of course, my lord. I will give her notice.”
“Thank you, Dankworth. You have always been—” I searched for the correct word. “—good to me.”
“As it should be.” He stepped aside, allowing me to pass.
Never had I been more grateful that Crosswood Hall did not have a grand staircase leading to the house. As a young man, I had questioned why we did not have what I considered a status of great wealth.
My father had never, to my mind, provided a satisfactory answer.
Now, as I hobbled through the front door, I let out a breath of frustration.
I was not simply missing part of my right arm. No. My leg had also suffered extensive damage, and I now walked with a pronounced limp.
So much for dignity.
I eyed the staircase to the upper rooms.
“We could establish a room for you on the main level.” Percy clearly caught my reticence. “Or we can carry—”
“No one is carrying me anywhere. As long as I am able to walk, I will do so.” I was not going to waste the miracle that I was alive by acting the invalid I was. I had too much pride for that.
“As you wish.” He stood expectantly.
I grasped the handrail and, with some difficulty, hobbled my way up the stairs.Need to use the cane the doctor gave you.My belief was that only old men and men of leisure used canes. The one Doctor Monroe provided had a brass handle and was, he informed me, all the rage. Naturally, I wanted none of that. In my days of debauchery, I might have used one as an ornament. Now? Anything that emphasized my lameness was to be avoided.
