His arm ached. He slowly opened his eyes and realised, some wonder, he was in his own bed. He had no idea what time it was or the day. He vaguely remembered voices coming and going, but time had passed in a hazy, drugged stupor. The last thing he remembered before fainting as the surgeon cut into his arm was Rosalyn’s white face hovering over him.
He must have made a sound for he heard the rustle of skirts, and then his eyes focused vaguely on a familiar figure.
‘Michael, are you awake? Do you know me?’ His aunt Margaret hovered over him, lines of concern on her drawn face.
‘Yes,’ he managed to whisper.
She passed a gentle hand over his forehead. ‘Your fever has finally broken.’ She knelt by him. ‘We have been so worried. I am so thankful you are awake.’
‘How long…?’
‘Three days. You developed a fever after the surgeon removed the bullet. You have been very ill, Michael.’ She brought him a glass of water. ‘Can you drink?’
She helped him take a few sips, then he fell back on the pillows, willing himself not to drift into another sleep.
He closed his eyes, then they shot open. ‘Rosalyn. Where is she?’
‘She is here. She has been staying with us since the night you were wounded. Can you take a little more water?’
He pushed her hand away. ‘I must see her.’
‘Michael! I think it would be best if you waited.’ She sighed as he attempted to throw back the covers. ‘Very well, don’t agitate yourself. I shall fetch her.’
Rosalyn quietly closed the door behind her. Michael lay very still, his eyes closed. He turned his head as she approached the bed and opened his eyes. His usually olive skin was pale and his hair, unruly under the best of circumstances, tumbled over his forehead in complete disorder.
‘Rosalyn.’ She had to bend to catch his voice. ‘Did he hurt you?’
‘No, I am quite safe.’ His pallor and weakness alarmed her. She fought back tears that were all too close.
‘I am glad.’ He fumbled for her hand. ‘Sit by me. I must talk to you.’
She sunk down in the chair by his bed. ‘Not now. You need to rest. You have been very ill.’
He focused on her, his eyes drugged from the laudanum he’d been given to dull his pain. ‘Stay with me.’
‘I will. Please try to rest, Michael.’ She smoothed his hair back from his brow, and he closed his eyes.
Rosalyn sat with him for a long while, as she had for the past few interminable days. The candles slowly burned down, casting a soft glow in the room. His breathing was slow and even, and he no longer tossed and turned in feverish delirium as he had been doing during the past few days.
She stroked his hand, then brought it to her cheek for a moment, tears of thankfulness streaming down her face. For the first time since that terrible night, she had hope that he would live.
After a while, Caroline tiptoed in to relieve her, touching her hand in passing. Unable to sleep, Rosalyn wandered down to the library. She was startled to find the Duke still up, idly browsing through a book. He laid it aside when she entered.
After a few days in his company, Rosalyn could understand why his family found him daunting. Although his dark hair was flecked with silver, he very much resembled his sons, possessing the same handsome, aristocratic features. But it was his inborn air of self-assurance and command, coupled with the penetrating look in his grey eyes, that inspired awe in those around him. At first she had thought him a very hard man, but she had seen the lines of worry in his face for his son and knew he would be devastated if Michael were not to live.
‘Lady Jeffreys,’ he said politely, as he rose to his feet. ‘How do you find my son?’
‘He is much better; not so feverish and restless but so very weak. I still worry for him.’
‘The surgeon assured us once the fever has broken, the worst is over. Stamford is a survivor with a will of iron.’ He put a hand on her shoulder. ‘You should go to bed, my dear. You look peaked.’
She tried to smile. ‘I do not think I can sleep.’
‘What is troubling you?’ he asked quietly.
‘I cannot help but feel this whole affair is my fault. If it had not been for me, he would not have nearly been killed.’
‘I do not believe you deliberately attracted Fairchilde’s attentions, did you?’
‘No, never.’ She shuddered. ‘He was quite the most repugnant man I have ever met.’
‘You surely cannot hold yourself responsible for the harm he wished to do you and Michael? That would be most foolish and quite unnecessary. You are only fortunate that Michael and the others found you in time.’
‘Yes.’ She was silent and looked directly at him. ‘It is not that, your Grace. You see, Michael and I, we…we really were never betrothed. It was only a temporary bargain between us. He wished to avoid marriage with Miss Randall, I wanted my brother’s estate back…’ Her voice trailed away as he held up his hand.
‘I know this, my dear. Michael told me before we left Longbourne.’
‘Oh, dear.’
‘He feared I would coerce you to the altar so he felt he should inform me of the truth.’
‘Oh, what must you think of me?’ she whispered. Her hands crept to her burning cheeks. ‘I am so very sorry for such deceit. And then for Michael to almost lose his life because of it.’
‘My dear, this is nonsense. You have nothing to reproach yourself for. If anything, I am grateful he has met you.’ He smiled slightly, his eyes kind. ‘I suggest you retire now. Wearing yourself out with worry will not help.’
He held the door open for her, and as she passed he said, ‘I trust you care for him?’
She looked up at him, a blush heating her cheeks. ‘Yes, very much.’
He touched her cheek. ‘That is all that matters. Good night.’
Four days later, Rosalyn stood in the doorway of the sitting room off Michael’s bedchamber. He sat in a wing-chair, facing the window looking out over the garden behind Eversleigh House. He did not turn until she came into the room.
‘Rosalyn.’ He made a move to rise.
‘Please don’t. I know you are still not recovered.’ He looked much better, but she could see he was still pale. He wore a dark-green silk dressing gown over his loose white shirt and breeches. His arm was in a sling under the gown. ‘I will not stay very long.’
‘No. I did not think you would.’ He looked at her with that unreadable expression he’d had on his face the last two days, ever since he started to recover from his fever. He was polite, but remote, as if his whispered request for her to stay at his side had never happened.
She swallowed her despair and managed a smile. ‘I know James has thanked you, but I also wanted to thank you for what you have done for James. Particularly after he did lose more money at Newmarket. You did not need to return Meryton.’
‘I have no great desire to worry about another property. I thought it fitting punishment he should learn how to manage the place properly.’ A cool smile touched his lips. ‘We will see how grateful James is after a few months. Rutherford is one of my best stewards, which is why I have sent him to Meryton. He is a good man, but a hard taskmaster. James will find there is little time for gambling. However, he could not have a better tutor for learning how to run an estate.’
‘I am certain it will be quite good for him.’
‘I hope it keeps him out of trouble.’ Michael returned his gaze to the window.
‘Yes.’ She moved next to his chair. ‘He felt responsible for Fairchilde’s obsession as he invited him to Meryton. It is nonsense, but it seems to have sobered him considerably.’
Michael glanced up at her. ‘If he ever does anything else that puts you in danger like that, I’ll have him whipped.’
‘I doubt he will.’ She took a deep breath, clasping her hands together. ‘There is something else I must tell you. I…I think I will go to Meryton for a while.’
‘Why?’
‘There is no point in continuing here. Your father knows about our agreement, and Miss Randall is to marry Mr Redding. I am so grateful to you…’
‘I don’t want your gratitude,’ he interrupted her. He turned to look at her, a dark look on his face. ‘Nor do I care about Miss Randall’s nuptials.’
‘What do you want?’ she whispered.
He rose from the chair, staggering a little. Alarmed for him, she caught his arm. He shook her off and before she could think, caught her to him, his good arm pulling her tight against him. He looked down into her face, his eyes no longer indifferent, but dark with passion. ‘This is what I want.’
His lips crushed hers in a fierce kiss, surprisingly masterful for a man who was still convalescing. Not wanting to struggle for fear of doing him further injury, Rosalyn decided she had no choice but to yield to his embrace.
He didn’t let her go until a slight sound made them pull apart. He lifted his head, and they both turned towards the door.
Eversleigh stood there, eyeing them with an unreadable expression. ‘I would not interrupt you longer than necessary. I take it, however, you have no objections if your wedding takes place tomorrow.’
Rosalyn felt the colour drain from her face. She stole a glance at Michael, who had turned to stone. Then an odd smile touched his mouth. ‘But I do, sir. If you will excuse me, Rosalyn, I would like to speak to my father alone.’
‘Yes.’ In a daze, she left the room.
Michael watched her go, then turned to his father. ‘This is impossible.’
The Duke walked over to the chair. ‘I suggest you sit down before you faint. Then you may tell me why. After the embrace I just witnessed, I could be forgiven for assuming the matter has been settled.’
Michael flushed, and sat down. ‘Hardly. I told her after the damnable ball she must marry me in order to save her reputation and mine. She probably would have looked more delighted if I’d informed her she’d be facing a firing squad.’
‘Your usual address seems to have been somewhat lacking,’ Eversleigh said. ‘However, I trust you will remedy the matter after you are married.’
‘We are not going to be married.’
‘I am loathe to contradict you, but you will be. You are quite correct in attempting to save your reputation, particularly if you persist in kissing her in your bedchamber or in private rooms at balls.’
‘I promise to stay away from her. She wishes to leave for Meryton at any rate.’ He ran an agitated hand through his hair as he saw his father’s imperturbable expression. ‘It’s impossible! I won’t have her coerced. I know how persuasive you can be.’
The Duke raised thin brows. ‘I have no intention of coercing her. She will not be unwilling, I think. I am correct in assuming you love her?’
‘I love her more than anything. Too much to force her into marriage.’
‘The wedding will be small. Family and a few friends. I suggest you rest.’
Michael rose, agitated. ‘I must talk to Rosalyn. I must make certain this is what she wishes.’
His father moved to the door and paused, his hand resting on the doorknob. ‘You may speak with her tomorrow. There will be time enough to settle your concerns after you are wed.’ He closed the door firmly behind him.
Michael sank down into his chair and buried his head in his hands. She should have made her escape while he was unconscious. Once his father decided on a course of action there was no thwarting him. Michael only prayed she did not hate him too much.
Tension filled him. Not so much with worry that there would be a wedding tomorrow, but from fear there would not.
Rosalyn sat on a sofa in the library, her gaze fixed on a statue of Shakespeare. She started when she heard soft footsteps, and turned to see Lady Spence enter the room.
Lady Spence smiled down at Rosalyn, then seated herself next to her. Her eyes held sympathy. ‘Are you all right, my dear? I fear my brother can be somewhat overwhelming when he has his mind made up.’
‘He…he wishes us to be married tomorrow,’ Rosalyn whispered.
‘I know. I will admit it is rather sudden, but I do think it is for the best.’ She touched Rosalyn’s hand. ‘Michael loves you very much, you know.’
‘He…he has never said anything.’
‘Perhaps he is not certain of your feelings. He worries about forcing you into a marriage you don’t want.’ Her gaze was direct. ‘If you are certain you don’t wish to marry him, if you can say you do not love him, then I will put a halt to the wedding.’
‘No, I…I cannot say that,’ Rosalyn whispered. ‘But surely the Duke told you. We never meant to marry.’
‘I had already guessed that, even before Alistair confirmed it. My dear, I know this is not what either of you had planned. But sometimes fate plays us a much different hand than we expect. We cannot control everything, even the events we set in motion ourselves. You and Michael will be married. You are meant for each other. I have thought so from the first. Sometimes it is no use trying to run from our lives; you could go on like this and both of you would be unhappy. It will be best to wed tomorrow and start your lives together.’
Further argument seemed futile. In her own quiet way, Lady Spence was as strong as her brother. No wonder Michael had resorted to a false engagement to avoid an unwanted marriage. And when Watkins announced Lady Carlyn, and Rosalyn saw her grandmother bustle in, a pleased and determined look on her face, Rosalyn knew her fate was sealed. Fighting the three of them would be impossible.
And in her heart, she had no desire to do so.