Well, that pretty much burned all her bridges. Those flames would never be doused. Poor Henry looked shell-shocked and the marquess gave her a look that would have withered her right into the ground if she cared at all about his good opinion of her.
Rachel didn’t wait around to see if they left, but returned to her father’s side. His color was a little better, his snores gentle.
Dr. Oakley was returning his instruments to his leather case. “Is everything all right out there?” he asked quietly.
Rachel shook her head. “I may have done something irretrievably stupid.”
She loved Henry, but what was the point? It was best to put whatever was between them to rest.
Dr. Oakley put a warm hand on her shoulder. “I heard. You’re under a great deal of stress and worry. I’ll speak to them. I’m sure they’ll understand you were provoked.”
Rachel sat down next to her sleeping father. “I doubt it. I’m just a nobody who’s aimed too high.”
“Have you? Is it true? Has young Lord Challoner proposed marriage?”
Rachel’s mouth trembled to a near-smile. “Almost from the first minute he saw me. I didn’t take him seriously—he was funning then. But now—” She squeezed her idle hands in her lap. “Things have become serious, if that’s the right word.”
She had, after all, lost her virginity, which was serious indeed. “But I cannot see anything coming of it. We’re from different worlds, and Henry’s father would never approve. Especially now.”
But even if she could call back her words, she wouldn’t. Henry’s father was awful in his own untouchable-marquess way. No wonder his son had rebelled.
“He seems a nice lad. When he’s not dragging prostitutes to his ancestral home.”
Rachel’s face grew hot. “He—he was a little wild, I grant you. But he is changed. He wants to do something for injured soldiers, not just ones missing limbs, but men who—who cannot sleep. Who think too much. Drink too much.” Peace treaties may have been signed, but many soldiers’ demons were winning their war.
“Very admirable. Was that to be his Service? What do Vincent and the other governors think? I haven’t heard of it yet.”
“I don’t know. I don’t think it’s gotten that far, and probably can’t be done in the two weeks he has left here. But Henry feels strongly about it. He’s discussed it with my father.” She brushed a tuft of sparse white hair off her father’s damp forehead.
“Hm. Well, I approve of the scheme at any rate. But I have an easier Service in mind for him before we let him leave if the governors agree to it. And I think they will. We take care of our own first. Needs must and all that.”
“Oh?”
“Yes. You’ll be required here, Rachel. I know even if we have a nurse or neighbors come spell you, you’ll want to be with your father while he recovers. I’m going to ask Lord Challoner if he’ll teach for you.”
“What?” Rachel could think of nothing less likely. Gorgeous Henry Challoner in her dusty classroom? Ridiculous!
“The spring term is over at the end of the week, is it not? I believe the man can hold his own against eight or ten children for a few days. He was an army officer, after all. Accustomed to commanding rough men. A handful of children should be…child’s play.” Dr. Oakley chuckled.
Little did he know. The man had no children of his own. “But—”
“No buts. I know Vincent usually takes your place, but it’s not his favorite task. He has enough on his plate watching out for our immortal souls, don’t you think? I cannot imagine anyone else in the village with the patience you have, but you’ll be needed here. Your father will not be an easy man to take care of if I know him.”
Rachel would probably have to tie her father to the bed before all was said and done. He’d want to get up and weed and water his precious garden at the very least.
“I’ll try to keep him quiet.”
Dr. Oakley shook some pills into a paper sleeve and twisted it up. “Good luck with that. Give him one every morning at breakfast—a sensible breakfast, mind you. No fry-ups. Just toast and tea and oatmeal. He won’t live forever, Rachel, but I see no reason for any immediate danger. His heart isn’t what it was, and he may get lightheaded if he moves about too quickly. We don’t want him falling again—he was lucky this time, no bones broken. You need to watch out for that. A man his age doesn’t mend well.”
She thought of several of her father’s contemporaries, who’d gone downhill rapidly after such an injury. “I shall lecture him.”
“Ha! That I should like to witness. I’ll be back later this afternoon to check on him. Before supper for certain. Chin up, my dear. All will be well.”
If only. Rachel couldn’t see it just at present. She and her father were to be trapped in the little cottage for the foreseeable future.
And she had alienated a powerful lord and hurt another. Henry would get over her. But would she get over Henry? Could she forget Sunday afternoon and all it entailed? To never have him touch her again—
She delved into a basket of sewing while she waited for her father to wake, keeping her mind on her uneven stitches and not her problems. Eventually, her eyes filled with tears, making her task impossible. What a fool she was!
“How is he?” His voice was soft against the back of her neck, causing goose bumps down to her toes.
Rachel dropped the shirt button to the floor, where it rolled under her father’s bed.
“How did you get in?”
He held a finger to her lips, then spoke quietly. “You neglected to lock the door after your magnificent set-down of my father. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him quite that color before, not even in the worst of my mischief. Well done, you. And Rufus and I are old friends at this point. He didn’t even bark once.”
“Oh, Henry.” She covered her face in shame. He was a good man, and now she’d made his life—and her own—more difficult.
“Now, now, no more tears. I spoke to Dr. Oakley. Your father will be all right, and so will we.”
“But your father!”
“It’s time the pater learned where the lines of demarcation are. He can’t hurt us, Rachel. And he can’t hurt Puddling. I have an ace up my sleeve.” He gave her a cocky wink.
Trust Henry to see the silver lining when there was nothing but tarnish. The very fact he was here in her cottage proved he was still not yet in his right mind.
Oh, God. How she loved him, no matter how hard she’d tried to convince herself otherwise. But she didn’t really know him! They had nothing whatsoever in common besides the fact that they breathed the same Cotswold air.
And had been perfect in bed.
He bundled up the shirt on her lap and tossed it back in the basket. “Come outside for a minute so we can talk properly. I want you to hear everything I have to say, and I don’t want to disturb your father.”
She rose, hesitant. What if her father woke up and was confused? Tried to get out of bed again against Dr. Oakley’s order?
“Just for a minute. We’ll leave the door open.”
Henry went to the front door that opened to the street. Rachel hadn’t used it since her father made his bedroom in the parlor, and the hinges creaked like a crypt being opened.
“People will see us!” she hissed.
“Good. I want them to. Let them gossip their heads off. I have a plan, Rachel, and you can help me with it.”
Rachel doubted she could help anyone with anything. Sir Bertram was bound to come round shortly to fire her after the marquess told him of her effrontery.
What would she do if something happened to her father? Puddling was her home, the cottage humble but cozy. She’d managed to fill her days and nights with activity, but the truth was she wanted more.
She wanted Captain Lord Henry Agamemnon Challoner.
And there it was. An impossible desire. Unsuitable in every way. Poor Henry was not even recovered from what had brought him here—he was still impulsive. Still willful. He may not have imbibed any alcohol, but he was fizzy nonetheless.
“Rachel.”
She looked up into his bright blue eyes. “Yes?”
And then he dropped to his knees on the cobblestones.
“What are you doing?”
“Proposing. Again.” He craned his neck. “Are people looking out their windows?”
Rachel’s panic welled up into her throat. “Get up!”
“Not until you’ve said yes. I’m obeying the wishes of your father, Rachel. We discussed this before the doctor came.”
“He’s off his head!”
Henry clasped her hands. “That’s as may be, but a gentleman doesn’t ignore what might possibly be the last request of a dying man. Everyone will understand why I must offer for you.”
“You cannot.”
“Oh, but I am. I have—I forget how many times. It’s as if your father planned his indisposition.”
“What?”
“Oh, I’m not accusing the old bird per se. But he’s a smart man and has taken advantage of the opportunity. It’s a good thing I came along to find him rather than old Vincent. Vincent wouldn’t do for you at all. Pete’s asked me to take care of you. Marry you. I gave him my word to do so.”
Rachel didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “That’s no reason to get married! No one would really hold you to it.”
“I quite agree. It helps that I think I’ve fallen in love with you. Notice I said ‘think.’ A man like me has very little experience with love, poor idiot that I am. But I’m fairly sure you are the only woman for me. I shall do my best, and I don’t believe it will be especially difficult to fall head over heels in no time. But do say yes, Rachel. The cobblestones are killing my knees.”