As soon as Brendan stepped from the staircase onto the tiled floor, Redfern approached, as if he’d been lurking. “Are you well, milord?”
“I am, thank you, Redfern.”
“The steward called yesterday. He mentioned a fence down in the south pasture. He has sent workers to mend it.”
“I’ll ride over and inspect their work.”
Redfern’s eyebrows rose, but he recovered himself. “Certainly, milord.”
Brendan fought an amused smile threatening to lift his lips. His sudden interest in the actual workings of his estate seemed to have taken his butler by surprise. “Have a light meal sent to the library, will you?”
“I’ll instruct the chef, milord.”
The earl sat at his desk with the post and the newspapers, a ham and cress sandwich and an ale in front of him. He felt edgy, wondering what might be occurring upstairs. If only he could hold Laura close and ease her fears. But Robert’s life was in the doctor’s hands, and ultimately, God’s.
The ride over the estate, with Hunter loping along behind him, cleared Brendan’s mind of everything except for Laura, who, it seemed, still filled his every thought. She grew dearer to him with each day. Admitting it made him groan. But Gaylord, for all his sins, was right. Brendan could not consider marriage with Laura or any other woman. He would not bring a child into the world when they might be cursed, and pass it on for generations. It must stop with him.
Riding to the south pasture, he jumped Bruno over a hedge, and they cantered across the meadow to where two men dug holes in the ground for new fenceposts. They stopped to greet him. Brendan dismounted and rolled up his sleeves, glad of some good physical work, while Hunter dug his own hole in the dirt.
Brendan watched a worker dig a hole, then stepped closer to where the air smelled of moist earth. He grinned. “Let me know when you reach Australia.”
The man stared at him. “Milord?”
“Too deep.” Brendan took the spade from him and partly filled the hole. Then the three of them planted the post in the soil. Brendan turned to dig the next one, enjoying the stretch of muscles on his arms and back.
Two hours later, the fence mended, he rode home feeling better for the exercise, and something more vital too, which touched his heart and soul and seeped into his bones. He gazed around at the green pastures, flowering hedges and towering trees of his estate. Despite everything that had happened here to his parents and to him as a lad, he had come to love Beechley Park.
At the stables, Hunter yawned and stretched out on a sun-warmed patch of grass. “What a disappointment you are, Hunter.” Brendan laughed to himself as he unbuckled Bruno’s saddle.
“Care to share the joke, milord?” Devon asked as he took Bruno’s saddle from him.
“A fox and her cubs crossed the meadow while Hunter slept the afternoon away.”
Devon chuckled and shook his head.
“I’ll leave you to see to Bruno,” Brendan said. “Come on, Hunter, let’s have a drink.”
When he entered the house, he did not wish to intrude, so he sent a servant to inquire about the patient. The news came back. No change.
At his desk, a coffee cup at his elbow, he wondered what he might do to help Laura should Robert die. Cursing, he ran his fingers through his hair. Beyond offering his support, there was little. Her fool of a brother had better pull through.
Chapter Twelve
Laura spent thenight in the chair beside Robert’s bed. While her brother slept, she settled down with a book about the Debnam family history she’d found in the library. The writer had devoted a few paragraphs to the fourth Earl of Debnam, which convinced her he had not been mad, as Gaylord had suggested, but had lost his fortune when he’d fought the Roundheads. A Cavalier, he’d left his wife and son to fight for CharlesII. The clever fifth Earl had restored the family’s wealth.
Laura finally fell asleep curled up in the chair with the candles guttering. She woke at daylight when a maid pulled the curtains back and put a cup of chocolate and a plate of buttered bread on the table.
“The doctor is downstairs, madam.”
Had she slept through a crisis? Laura jumped up and leaned over Robert. The sheets were soaked through. His fever must have broken during the night. He mumbled something while she checked beneath the bandage, which was damp and sweaty and needed to be changed. But there was no sign of infection. He was still very unwell and difficult to rouse, but she, so thankful for the improvement, let him sleep. The chocolate revived her as she waited for the doctor.
Dr. Phillips came in shortly afterward. He examined the patient and reassured her the worst was over. It looked like Robert was on the mend.
Tears of relief filled Laura’s eyes, and she quickly dabbed them away. When the doctor left, she attempted to tidy herself before the mirror, despairing at her badly creased dress. As she scrubbed a spot of chocolate from her lip, someone knocked on the door.
The housekeeper entered with two housemaids in tow. “I’m ordered to change his lordship’s sheets, Miss Peyton.”
“Good, Mrs. Brandt.” The direction must have come from Debnam, who would have spoken to the doctor.
