Chapter Ten
Fortunately, as Debnamhad surmised, the pistol ball had missed an artery and bones, lodging high in Robert’s shoulder. But there was often the risk of fever with such an injury, the doctor warned Laura. “Nothing is certain with a gunshot wound. We must stay on guard,” he said, promising to return tomorrow.
After Dr. Phillips had left, Laura remained at Robert’s bedside. Her brother had endured the pain while the doctor had probed the wound to remove the ball and suffered a couple of stitches without complaint. Robert was braver than she’d expected, although Phillips had said it helped him to be the worst for drink. And now, after a small dose of laudanum, Robert drifted into what she hoped was a restful sleep. He looked so pale and young, with his overly long fair hair spread on the pillow. She tended to forget he was a year younger than she was when her destiny lay in his hands. Losing their parents in such quick succession and inheriting the estate had rocked him. He resented the burdens it presented, while most of his friends from university enjoyed their freedom in London. And his way to deal with it was to gamble and drink too much.
Laura sipped the cup of tea a maid had brought her and settled back in the comfortable padded chair placed beside the bed for her use. She put the cup in its saucer on the table and closed her eyes, expecting Robert to sleep for at least an hour or more.
“Laura?”
She sat up straight and saw him gazing sleepily at her.
“You must rest, Robert.”
“We must go home.”
“You cannot, before you heal, or the wound will start to bleed again.”
“I had to come save you from that devil. It horrified me what I learned about him. Do you know he is called ‘the Phantom Earl’?”
“Of course. It has hardly been a secret,” she said. If he ventured out of the card room occasionally at balls, he would hear of these things. “Who told you?”
“Lord Gaylord wrote of it in his letter.”
What a horrid man.“I have been perfectly safe. Lord Debnam is a gentleman. Robert, I implore you, please believe nothing Lord Gaylord wrote. None of it is true. The earl sent a letter asking you to fetch me. Did you not receive it?”
“I left before the post arrived. Are you sure he sent it?”
“Quite sure.”
“Why does he wish to send you home? Did you argue? Was he cruel to you?” he asked, his voice becoming slurred. “I haven’t forgotten about the duel. We shall meet when I’ve recovered. He won’t get away with treating you so shabbily.”
“You are wrong about Lord Debnam,” she repeated. She sighed, fearing he didn’t want to believe it. “He has been nothing but kind.” She rose to tuck the blankets around him, smoothing the pillows while carefully avoiding his bandaged shoulder. “Let us speak of this later. When you feel better. You must sleep now.”
“And that’s not all…” He groaned, but his eyes closed, and he slipped into a deep slumber.
What else did he wish to tell her? More of the same nonsense? Laura’s ribs ached with compassion as she watched his chest rise and fall, thinking of the good times they’d had when their parents had been alive. Memories she chose not to share with Debnam. Robert had been away for months, first with boarding school and then university, but he’d come home for the holidays, and they’d spent the days together. Edward would come over from next door to join them, and they’d ridden, played quoits and badminton on the lawn on fine days, and played board games when it had rained. They’d attended dances at neighbors’ parties and the assembly rooms. She had been blissfully in love with Edward then and believed he’d loved her.
Once Laura had turned nineteen, her mother had taken her to London for a Season, to gain a little of what Mama had termed “Town bronze.” But, as it was understood Laura would marry Edward, her father had declined any offers from suitors. That had not dismayed her. None of the gentlemen had appealed to her. Her head had been filled with thoughts of Edward, who in her mind at the time had encompassed everything she wished for in a husband. But Edward’s father had wished his son to wait until his majority before he gave any thought to marriage.
When Laura had turned twenty-two, Mama had fallen ill after visiting an orphanage with some ladies from a charity she’d supported. It had quickly became serious, and Papa had rarely left her side. Soon afterward, he had been struck down too.
Edward had been a wonderful support in those days. But as she’d embarked on a period of mourning, he’d come to tell her with shame in his eyes that an announcement of his engagement to Miss Felicity Bloxham was to appear inThe Morning Chroniclethe following day. It had been his father’s decree, and Edward had had no say in it. Naturally, Miss Bloxham came from a wealthy family. While Laura had understood the way these things worked, the pain had been so intense, she’d wondered if she could survive the horrendous sense of loss of those she’d cared most about. But she’d rallied because Robert, shattered to find himself the third Baron Netterfield, with an estate and tenant farmers to care for, had needed her.
She remembered the despair which had claimed her when Robert had seemed to give up. He’d turned his back on his responsibilities and joined his ne’er-do-well friends in the fleshpots of London. Alone, she’d managed the house as best she could, until their Aunt Gertrude had arrived. Their aunt had insisted Robert come home from London. And when he had, she’d given him a stern talking to, warning him in no uncertain terms he must do the right thing by his sister and manage the legacy his father had left him, or she would cut him out of her will.
Robert, apparently incensed at being ordered about by his aunt like a stripling, had finally agreed that Laura should marry. And so began another Season spent in London, which had ended when Robert’s money had run out. The best part of that time had been meeting Debnam. He had shocked Laura into facing what she still longed for: a husband she could love and children, although as the days passed at Longworth, she feared it was unlikely to happen.
Laura leaned back in the chair and closed her eyes, listening to Robert’s soft moans.
The door opened and Debnam entered. “How is the patient?” he asked quietly. “Dr. Phillips is confident he will survive.”
She put a hand to her hair, aware it unraveled from its pins. “He woke for a brief time. He would like to go home.”
Debnam drew up a chair to sit beside her. He rested his hands on his knees and studied the patient. “That will not be possible for a while.”
He seemed so mature and capable compared to Robert. Her desire to climb into his arms and rest her head against his broad chest almost overwhelmed her. “But we mustn’t rely on your hospitality…”
“I believe we’ve moved on from polite courtesies, Laura.” Debnam took her hand and enveloped it in his large, comfortable palm. “There’s no reason for you to leave now your brother is here. My neighbor can hardly make an objection.”
