“What is not yours?”
“Not mine,” he repeated, clenching Algenon’s hand tightly.
“Yes, you said that, but what is not yours?”
The half of his father’s face that still obeyed scrunched, his green eyes flashing with frustration. Several incoherent words came out of his mouth before Algenon finally understood one. Book.
“The book isn’t yours?”
A jerky shake of his head met the question. “Need book,” he slurred out.
His father had a whole library of books. Searching out a specific book could take weeks. Algenon hardly ever saw his father with any book in his hands, but maybe he’d borrowed one and forgot to return it.
“You have a book you need to return.”
A growl tore from his father’s throat and he thrashed his good leg. “Need book to me. Mine life. Now.”
Understanding dawned. His life. Ever since he could remember, his father had kept a journal. He couldn’t count the times he’d been made to wait while his father finished whatever he’d been writing.
“You want your journal.”
The fierce grip on his hand loosened and his father relaxed against the pillows. Could he even write? His whole left side had been nearly useless since this episode had struck, but perhaps his right hand would hold steady enough.
“I will have a man run to Roberts House to fetch your journal from the study.” It would have to wait until morning since most of the staff were sleeping, but hopefully the reassurance would allow his father to rest.
“All.”
Algenon leaned closer to make certain he understood him. “All what?”
“All books.”
Algenon narrowed his gaze. “You want all of your journals? But aren’t some of them back at Blackthorn?”
A short shake of the head was his only answer. Great, now Algenon would be forced to search the study and possibly his father’s bedchamber for who knew how many journals. Letting go of his father’s hand, he stood, needing to stretch his legs after sitting so long in such a fashion.
“Green book.”
The words were barely a whisper but they brought instant relief. Most of his father’s books were specially covered in brown leather. Knowing the book was green would narrow down his search considerably.
After several paces of the room, Algenon turned his attention back to his father. His chest rose and fell in an evenness that signified sleep. Moving close to the candle on the bedside table, Algenon removed and examined his time piece. It was half past three. Lady Roberts usually came in to change places with him at six, but he would not blame her if she slept a bit longer. Something was ailing her, but it was not his place to pry.
However, her arrival could not come soon enough. He desperately needed sleep, but if it would bring his father peace of mind to have his green journals, he could put off rest for a while. No use agitating him further and possibly causing more harm.
Perhaps he could even stop at Harris House to finally declare himself to Javenia. He’d not been out to hear the gossip, but heknew what would be said, and frankly he was grateful. His father would have to allow the match now, if for no other reason than to save face.
Who would have thought he’d ever be grateful to Lady Plum and Mrs. Cline for anything?
Chapter 24
Sometime in the wee hours Algenon drifted to sleep, his head resting on his father’s bed. He jolted up, however, when Lady Roberts finally entered the sick room with two doctors.
The sun was fully in the sky, proclaiming the hour much later than Algenon had expected.
“Please forgive me, Roberts,” Lady Roberts said. “I did not feel well upon waking so I stayed abed much longer than I wished. Now the doctors have come, why don’t you retire?”
Algenon ran a hand over his face, the stubble on his chin scratching his palm. He needed to do something, but his sleep fogged brain could not recall what. Slowly he rose, his back and legs stiff from the hard chair and his awkward sleeping position.
One of the physicians poked at the drooping side of his father’s face, causing him to stir.
