The following morning, Maddy stepped into the drawing room to receive a visitor. Lady Milford stood by one of the tall windows, gazing out upon the square through the rain-spattered glass. Elegant in a lilac gown and crimped bonnet with ostrich feathers, she turned toward Maddy with a somber expression.
“My dear, I do hope you don’t mind the intrusion so early,” she said, coming forward to greet Maddy. “I came as soon as I heard the news. How is Lord Gilmore?”
“He’s still unresponsive, I’m afraid. He suffered an apoplexy and then hit his head as he fell. The doctor was with him all night. We won’t know until the earl awakens if there is any permanent damage.”
If indeed he did awaken.
Maddy shuddered. She relived the awful nightmare of seeing her father-in-law collapse. She’d hurried for help, then Nathan and a footman had carried the earl upstairs to his bedchamber. The household had come running. The dowager had needed smelling salts, Emily had cried brokenly, and Lady Sophia had given Maddy an accusatory look as if she had triggered the attack.
Maddy drew a breath that ended in a choked sob. Her fingers dug into the blue velvet bag that she’d brought from her bedchamber. Perhaps she was guilty. Perhaps she shouldn’t have troubled Lord Gilmore by stirring up the past. Perhaps if she’d never sought the earl’s counsel, Nathan would never have said such cutting things to him …
A comforting arm settled around her back. Lady Milford led her to a chaise. “There, there, my dear. Shall I send for tea?”
Maddy sank down and wiped away a tear. “No, thank you, I’ll be all right. It’s just that … I’m afraid this whole mess may be my fault.”
Lady Milford sat down beside her, taking hold of her hand and patting it. “Why, what do you mean?”
The story came pouring out. “It all started when Nathan learned that I’d lied to him about my past. He didn’t know that I was related to the Duke of Houghton, and he was furious to find out the truth. He’d married me to anger his father, you see … Well, anyway, he made arrangements to leave England this morning—”
“Leave! Has he gone, then?”
Maddy shook her head. “He was forced to delay his departure due to the earl’s illness. Though I don’t know for how long.”
When she had visited Gilmore’s bedchamber earlier in the morning, Nathan had been there, looking grim-faced and weary. His manner had been remote, so unlike the warm, affectionate husband of the past weeks that she felt utterly dispirited.
“I shall have to have a word with him later,” Lady Milford said firmly. “But I still don’t see how any of this is your fault.”
“I went to the earl yesterday and begged his help. I … spoke to him quite frankly about how unfairly he’d treated Nathan in the past. Unfortunately, Nathan came upon us, and he accused Gilmore and me of conspiring behind his back. Then he told Gilmore he’d never have returned to England had he known the earl was still alive.”
Lady Milford pursed her lips. “Ah, yes, that letter. You cannot imagine how many times I’ve wished that I’d refrained from sending it. The news that his father lay on his deathbed was premature. Gilmore recovered, and the smallpox spread to Nathan’s brother and sister. So I wrote a second letter, but apparently he never received it.”
Maddy tried to look on the bright side. “Well, he ought to have come back to England anyway. And he should stay now, too. I’ve told him so, but he refuses to listen.”
“Now, now, you mustn’t fret, my dear. It truly isn’t your fault. One could just as easily blame it on the letter that I sent. And Nathan should never have uttered such a dreadful remark to his father.”
But the earl wasn’t his father, or least they couldn’t be certain. Maddy kept silent about that part. She felt honor-bound by her vow to Gilmore to guard the secret of Nathan’s parentage.
“I mustn’t keep you,” Lady Milford said, rising to her feet. “I shall return in a day or so. If Nathan attempts to leave London, pray tell him he is not to do so without speaking to me first.”
“Of course, my lady.”
As Maddy stood up, she remembered the blue velvet bag in her lap. It contained the garnet dancing slippers. She handed the bag to Lady Milford. “I nearly forgot. You lent these shoes to me when we first met. I thought it best I returned them.”
A mysterious gleam entered Lady Milford’s violet eyes. “I’m pleased you were able to make good use of them. And never fear, all will be well soon, you’ll see.”
Maddy smiled wanly, though she knew all would not be well. She had returned the shoes because she’d come to a decision. She would not be going to any more parties or balls. If the earl recovered, and if there was any hope of Nathan making amends with him, then she must not be a thorn in their sides.
It was time that she left Gilmore House—not Nathan.
* * *
The combination of an overcast day and the closed draperies rendered the sickroom dim and shadowed. On the bedside table, a single candle cast a meager light on the man lying beneath the bedcovers. His pitted features were pale, and if not for the slight rise and fall of his chest, Nate would have thought him dead.
Pacing the floor, he kept a watch on the earl. Gilmore lay unmoving, as he’d been all night and into the afternoon. It was unclear yet if he’d been rendered insensible by the attack of apoplexy, or if it was from the purplish knot on his forehead from his fall. The doctor had left to tend to other patients, with instructions to summon him if there was any change. Nate was here alone; he’d sent his grandmother and sister to rest since they’d all lost sleep the previous night.
Nate himself had dozed in the chair by the fire. He hadn’t left this room except to change his rumpled clothing and to send a message to the docks. He’d felt strangely compelled to remain at his father’s side.
His father.
His steps faltered. Strange, how he still caught himself thinking of Gilmore as his father, even though he’d sworn not to do so. Strange, too, that he could feel dread in his gut at the possibility of the man’s demise. It wasn’t just guilt over his own harsh words, either. Somehow, in the past few weeks, without knowing quite how it had happened, Nate had arrived at an uneasy truce with the earl.
Perhaps it had been Madelyn’s influence, but as the season progressed, he and his father had behaved civilly toward one another. They had ceased shouting at each other—at least until yesterday when Nate’s angry tirade had caused the earl’s collapse.
According to the doctor, the bout with smallpox had weakened Gilmore’s heart. Nate had had no inkling his father was anything but hale and fit. Or perhaps that wasn’t quite true. On the day he had returned here with Madelyn as his bride, Grandmamma had alluded to the earl’s ill health. But at the time, Nate hadn’t paid much heed. He’d been too intent on his revenge.
He paced to the bedside table and flattened his hands on the surface, squeezing his eyes shut. Yesterday, he had gone to the library for the purpose of informing Gilmore of his departure. Then he’d spied Madelyn talking earnestly with the earl.
Nate had come unhinged at the notion of the two of them joining forces. Seeing them chatting like friends illustrated everything that had gone wrong with his plan. She was supposed to be his vehicle for vengeance, but overnight she had become an acceptable confidante to his father. And Nate had not been able to contain his fury …
Had I known you were still alive, I would never have returned.
Those words had been corrosive, juvenile, and utterly needless. There had been no real reason to tell Gilmore about Lady Milford’s letter. Nate already had decided to deny the man a grandson. Yet that hadn’t been enough to satisfy his driving need to punish the man.
How had he become so bitter? So callous? He had never felt more chained by the shackles of the past. On top of that, he’d felt betrayed to think that Madelyn had shifted her loyalty from him to his father.
I love you—enough for both of us.
His chest tightened at the memory of her speaking those words, even though he didn’t believe them. After her deception about her noble background, he couldn’t trust anything she said. If she truly loved him, she wouldn’t have lied …
A small rustling noise interrupted his morbid thoughts. Then a low moan came from the bed.
He whipped up his head. Jolted, he realized that Gilmore was awake, his eyes halfway open. His fingers grasped convulsively at the gold-embroidered coverlet.
Nate leaned over him, bracing his hands on the mattress. “Can you speak, Father? Do you know me?”
The earl frowned, his eyelids straining as if he were trying to focus. His lips parted. In a dry, guttural tone, he whispered, “Na … than.”
He was thirsty. Of course he would be thirsty after being unconscious for nearly twenty-four hours. “Would you like a drink?”
Without waiting for an answer, Nate grabbed the pitcher on the bedside table and sloshed water into a glass. He wasn’t usually so clumsy. How absurd that his hands should be trembling.
He slid his arm beneath his father’s upper back and helped him sit up to take a few sips. Some of it dribbled down his chin. After a moment, Gilmore weakly waved away the glass.
Nate laid him back down on the pillows. “I’ll notify the doctor that you’ve awakened. He’ll want to know straightaway.”
Gilmore grabbed hold of his hand. “Don’t … go.”
His father’s grip was weak. Nate could have easily pulled away. But he didn’t. He couldn’t remember the last time the earl had held his hand. If ever. “I’ll be right back. It will only take a moment.”
“I meant … don’t leave … England. We have to … talk. I’m sorry … I’ve been wrong…” Gilmore stopped, breathing heavily, as if the effort had exhausted him.
Nate stood transfixed. Gilmore had always ruled this house with an iron fist. He’d never apologized for anything. And what did he mean by “wrong”?
Nate burned to know. At the same time, it could be dangerous to overtire the man. “Quiet now,” he said. “We can talk tomorrow if you’re feeling better.”
Gilmore gave a slight nod, then closed his eyes again. His fingers relaxed and fell back onto the coverlet. Though his hand was now free, Nate remained standing at the bedside, gazing down at his father as Madelyn’s words of the previous day sprang into his mind.
I understand why revenge has ruled your life for so long, Nathan. But it isn’t good for you. I do think you ought to try to make peace with Gilmore instead of running away again.
Those words had infuriated him, and they still rankled now. She had labeled him a coward for wanting to live his life free of his father’s poison. She didn’t understand—she couldn’t understand what it was like to grow up under this man’s thumb. Leaving England to pursue his business interests didn’t constitute running away.
Or did it?
Blast it, he didn’t see how he could make peace with his father after all these years. Too much had happened. The past could not be changed. He had never known any affection from this man. Nor did he desire any.
To prove Madelyn wrong, however, he would give Gilmore a chance to speak his mind. Tomorrow. He could delay his departure for a few more days until he was certain of the earl’s recovery.
But he had no intention of remaining in London any longer than necessary.