Bound by One Scandalous Night Page 14

  She sat up. ‘Could I trouble you to send Sally to me?’

  ‘Right away.’ He stood and put his clothing in order.

  He still looked exhausted, though.

  ‘And then you must get some rest,’ she said. ‘I am in no distress.’ She hoped.

  His expression turned puzzled. ‘I am rested enough.’

  ‘I really do not need you to stay here, Edmund.’ She needed him to leave, actually.

  His brows knitted again as they had in sleep. ‘If you would rather I not be here, I will attend to other matters. I will collect our bags from the hotel.’

  ‘You could send Staines for the bags. You need not go yourself.’ She wanted him to rest—and for Sally to come and change the linens folded beneath her. ‘My mother will have a bed fixed for you.’

  ‘No need. I am well able to return to the hotel. I have other matters to see to today, as well.’ He walked to the door. ‘I’ll send for Sally. Rest, Amelie.’

  He walked out of the room without a second glance.

  Amelie sat up and hugged her knees. She’d forgotten to tell him something important. She’d forgotten to thank him for not leaving her alone.

  She lay back down in the bed and let her misery envelop her.

  Chapter Twelve

  Edmund found a servant to summon Sally. He also left word that he had gone out. He returned to the Clarendon Hotel and arranged to have Amelie’s and Sally’s luggage sent back to them. He carried his bag to the Stephen’s Hotel, where he still had his rooms.

  He stripped off his coat and waistcoat, kicked off his shoes and flopped down on the bed. He was in no condition to stay at the Northdon town house and risk encountering Lord Northdon, not with his emotions in such a volatile state. Best he rest here.

  He did not need to witness everyone else holding him to blame. No one knew that better than he did. Besides, no one desired his presence there. Everyone wished the marriage had been scheduled for today rather than yesterday. Even Amelie seemed impatient to be rid of him this morning.

  He’d battled being unwanted his whole life. Certainly his mother’s life would have been happier—and longer—had he not been born. His father had only wanted a legitimate heir, not a bastard son. No schoolmaster, tutor, governess or servant wanted to deal with him. His superiors in the army had preferred junior officers with proper family connections.

  Still, his sisters and Lady Summerfield accepted him, even though his sisters were now angry at him. What would Lady Summerfield say if she knew what had happened, why he’d had to marry Amelie? The selfish risk he’d taken with the baby’s life? How he’d lost it all?

  She’d probably tell him to buck up and stop feeling sorry for himself. Lady Summerfield always chose to be happy.

  He’d thought happiness had been in his grasp, too, but now there was no baby and he was not at all certain Amelie wanted him.

  He rubbed his face. He’d had to live with things he’d done on the battlefield; he supposed he’d have to learn to live with this, as well.

  The baby he’d almost held. The family they’d almost created.

  * * *

  He slept until nearly the dinner hour. Dragging himself out of bed, he dressed in a clean shirt and brushed his coat until it looked presentable again. He’d look the proper gentleman and act the proper gentleman. Let no one push him too far, though. His emotions, while under control, were very raw.

  He kept his room at the Stephen, though. Lord and Lady Northdon had never offered him a room at the town house.

  He walked outside into a grey, drizzling evening that perfectly matched his mood. When he reached the house and sounded the knocker, he wondered what would happen if he asked for a key so he could come and go as he pleased.

  Staines answered the door. ‘Evening, sir.’

  As he handed Staines his coat and hat, he asked, ‘Anything I should know about, Staines?’

  Lines appeared on the footman’s forehead. ‘It is quieter, sir. No more harm to Miss Glenville—I mean Mrs Summerfield—that I know of. She’s been resting, I hear.’

  ‘Good. I am glad.’ Very glad. ‘I’ll go up and see her.’

  Staines’s brows rose. ‘Should I announce your arrival?’

  Edmund smiled. ‘No one knows quite what to do with me, do they? I do not know myself. Do tell the family I am here, though. They will want to know.’

  Staines’s mouth twitched, and his eyes indicated some empathy.

  Edmund climbed the stairs to Amelie’s room. He knocked softly, not wishing to wake her if she was sleeping.

  The door was opened by Tess. Instead of letting him in, she stepped out in the hall.

  ‘Where have you been?’ she said in a scolding tone.

  He glared at her. ‘I am not likely to tell you when you talk to me that way. How is Amelie? She is not worse, is she?’

  ‘No.’ She looked chastened. ‘She’s slept most of the day, and she is weak, but no worse, the poor dear.’ Her disapproving look returned. ‘She asked about you, but no one knew what to tell her.’

  ‘I told her I was going out. I did not know when I would return.’ His voice turned acerbic. ‘I doubt anyone else here desired my presence.’

  ‘Edmund, you must understand,’ Tess cried. ‘You seduced their daughter!’

  ‘It is not only that, Tess, and you know it.’ He looked her in the eye. ‘Tell me. How might they have reacted if it had been Captain Fowler instead of me?’ There would have been celebration, he’d stake his life on it.

  Tess’s face showed that she saw his point.

  He shrugged. ‘All that matters now is that Amelie gets well.’ He reached for the latch on the door. ‘I want to see her.’

  ‘She is sleeping. The doctor told us to give her laudanum.’

  ‘Laudanum?’ he asked. ‘Is she in pain?’

  Tess shook her head. ‘It is just to help her sleep. Just for today, he said.’

  He nodded. ‘I will not awaken her. But I want to see her.’

  He lifted the latch and slipped quietly into the room.

  The curtains were drawn and only one lamp was lit. He could see her on the bed, but only as a shadow.

  The shadow stirred. ‘Who is there?’

  He stepped closer. ‘It is Edmund.’

  ‘Edmund.’ She sat up against the pillows. ‘You came back.’

  He walked to the side of her bed. ‘Of course I came back. I only left to do some errands.’ And to sleep.

  ‘I thought you would never come back.’ Her voice slurred. ‘I thought you ran away to Belgium.’

  He wiped a stray hair from her forehead. ‘Why would you think that?’

  ‘Oh...’ She blinked as if keeping her eyes open was difficult. ‘Because of the baby.’

  Had she wanted him to leave? He could not tell.

  ‘No, I am here, as I said I would be.’ He rested his hand on her bed.

  She placed her hand over it, and her lids fluttered closed. ‘Your hand feels very nice.’

  ‘How are you faring, Amelie?’ he asked.

  ‘Oh...’ Her eyes opened again briefly. ‘I am so very sad. But the bleeding stopped so that makes me grateful.

  ‘Bleeding?’ His voice rose in anxiety.

  She nodded. ‘Mrs Bayliss said it is all right to bleed. I much prefer her to the doctor.’ She added, ‘Sally helped me, though.’

  ‘I am glad.’ She was not making much sense. Perhaps he could contrive to speak to Mrs Bayliss, discover whether bleeding was serious or not.

  She started drifting off to sleep.

  ‘I’ll leave you now. Sleep well,’ he murmured.

  Her eyes flew open. ‘Do not leave! Do not go to Brussels.’

  He clasped her hand. ‘I am not leaving. For B
russels or anywhere else.’

  ‘Not leaving...’ She started drifting off again.

  ‘I will look in on you tomorrow,’ he said.

  She nodded, but her eyes were closed and he was uncertain if she knew what he was saying.

  He left the room and found Tess waiting in the hall.

  ‘Lord and Lady Northdon know you are here,’ she said. ‘They told me they would be pleased for you to stay to dinner.’

  Pleased? He doubted it. ‘Do they mean it, Tess, or am I expected to refuse?’

  ‘Of course they mean it!’ she said a little too forcefully. ‘I am going to stay with Amelie, but you go on. They will probably be gathering in the drawing room by now.’

  Tess would not be present? Luck would have it that way, wouldn’t it? Tess was the closest thing he had to a right flank.

  ‘I’ll head down.’ He started for the stairs but stopped and turned back to her. ‘Oh, Tess?’

  ‘Yes?’ She was about to enter Amelie’s room.

  ‘Thank you for helping to care for Amelie.’

  Her brows rose. ‘Oh, my goodness. You really care for her, don’t you?’

  He gave her a direct look. ‘I do indeed.’

  When he reached the hall, Staines said, ‘They are waiting for you in the drawing room, sir.’

  He made a wry smile. ‘Thank you.’

  He crossed the hall to the drawing-room door, hesitated a moment and straightened his spine, promising himself to remain civil and gentlemanly, no matter what.

  He entered the room.

  Lord and Lady Northdon were seated together on the sofa, their heads close together in conversation. Glenville had his back to the door and looked to be pouring a glass of wine.

  ‘Good evening,’ Edmund said.

  They all glanced his way. Wariness in Glenville’s expression. Anxiety in Lady Northdon’s. Lord Northdon looked upon him with raw antipathy.

  Lord Northdon spoke first. ‘Where have you been all day?’

  Glenville crossed the room, shook his hand and handed him a glass of wine. ‘Good evening, Edmund.’ He was trying to be cordial, at least.

  Edmund was grateful.

  Edmund turned to Lady Northdon and bowed. ‘I hope you were able to get some rest, madame.’

  ‘Oui, a little,’ she said.

  Glenville gestured for him to sit, and he took a chair not too close to Amelie’s parents. He took a sip of wine.

  ‘Sir,’ he said to Lord Northdon. ‘I did not immediately answer your question. I returned to my hotel and slept most of the day.’

  ‘Your hotel?’ Lady Northdon exclaimed.

  ‘I kept my room there.’ He did not explain he’d kept it because they’d never invited him into this house. ‘It is best I stay there until Amelie recovers. Less trouble for you.’

  ‘We can make up a room for you,’ Lady Northdon said.

  ‘Your offer is appreciated, madame, but it might be better if I am not underfoot.’

  ‘Humph!’ Lord Northdon shot him a contemptuous glance. ‘You simply abandon my daughter after all she has been through? All you caused?’

  Edmund bristled and fought to hold his tongue. And his fists.

  ‘Papa,’ Glenville broke in. ‘You need to give Edmund a chance. We all do.’

  Maybe Edmund did have one more ally besides Tess.

  He leaned towards Lord Northdon. ‘I sat with your daughter all last night, sir, and I just went up to see her before this. I will not abandon her.’ She could send him away, but he’d never abandon her.

  Lord Northdon averted his head and drank his glass of wine.

  Edmund understood to a point. Lord Northdon wanted to know him only as the bastard son of a baronet who’d defiled his daughter, not the man he was. Too many people in Edmund’s life had been like that.

  He shrugged inwardly. He could only control his own behaviour, not how others reacted to him.

  ‘Amelie seemed comfortable,’ he said, seeking a normal conversation. ‘Although she was not entirely making sense. That was the laudanum, though, I’m certain.’

  ‘Hmmph.’ Lord Northdon took a sip of his wine. ‘You are certain. Are you an expert on laudanum now?’

  Edmund faced him. ‘Not an expert, but I had some experience with laudanum when I was injured in Spain.’

  ‘You were injured in Spain?’ Glenville asked.

  ‘At Albuhera,’ he responded.

  Lord Northdon finished his wine and turned away.

  The butler came then to announce dinner.

  Dinner was a strained affair, but Edmund tried to make pleasant conversation with people who wished he had never existed.

  No one mentioned the baby.

  * * *

  After dinner Edmund excused himself to return to Amelie’s room, but before going there, he used the servants’ stairs to go below in search of Mrs Bayliss.

  She was in the servants’ hall, talking to two of the maids.

  ‘Mrs Bayliss,’ he called to her from the doorway. ‘Might I have a word with you?’

  ‘Mr Summerfield, sir.’ She stood and walked towards him. ‘Of course. What may I do for you?’

  He liked this housekeeper. She was both efficient and kind. ‘I had a question. Miss Glenville—Mrs Summerfield, I mean—said she’d had bleeding. Is that something serious?’

  The cook patted his hand. ‘Not at all. It is like her monthly, you know. Nothing to worry over. Merely her body coming back to normal.’

  ‘I thank you, ma’am.’ He hesitated before speaking again. ‘May I ask how you come by this knowledge? It seems considerable.’

  ‘My mother was a midwife, sir, and I went with her many a time soon as I was old enough to follow her directions. I would have followed in her footsteps, but she died young and I went into service instead.’

  Another person whose plans in life had been abruptly altered. ‘I am very grateful you were here when we needed you.’

  She blushed. ‘Thank you, sir.’

  He started to leave but turned back to her. ‘Ma’am, I wonder if you might beg a favour from the servants. Ask them not to speak of these events? I wish to protect my wife’s reputation and that of the family. They have all suffered enough from gossip.’

  ‘We have already agreed upon it, sir,’ she told him, her expression firm. ‘We are devoted to the family.’

  He extended his hand to her, and she placed hers in his. ‘If ever I can be of assistance to any of you, let me know.’

  She curtsied. ‘Thank you, sir.’

  He walked back to the stairs, acknowledging the curious stares of the kitchen maids and other servants he passed.

  When he reached Amelie’s room, he knocked and waited for Tess to come out.

  ‘She’s still sleeping,’ Tess said.

  ‘Has she eaten?’ he asked.

  Tess frowned. ‘Nothing to speak of. We were able to convince her to take some broth, but that is all.’

  She had to eat.

  ‘Have you eaten?’ he thought to ask.

  ‘No,’ Tess responded. ‘I feared I would wake her.’

  He waved a hand. ‘Go. Have dinner. I will sit with her.’

  ‘Are you staying here tonight?’ she asked.

  ‘In the room with Amelie, you mean?’ He had not planned to. ‘Yes. I’ll stay with her.’ He wanted to, he realised.

  ‘You do not have to stay in her room, you know,’ Tess said. ‘We can have a bedchamber ready for you.’

  They’d obviously not gone to that trouble yet. ‘No need. All my belongings are at Stephen’s Hotel. I’ll return there in the morning.’

  ‘You will not move in here?’ she asked, clearly disapproving.

  He gave her a direct look. �
�Tess. I have yet to be invited to stay.’

  ‘Of course you are welcome to stay!’ she protested.

  ‘I am not welcome,’ he said. ‘I dare say they wish I had left the day before yesterday.’

  She put her hands on her hips and leaned forward. ‘You must stop this, Edmund. For better or for worse, you are connected to this family, and you must learn to get along with them.’

  He bent his head and nodded. ‘I will try. I am trying.’

  She touched his arm. ‘Good! We should all try to make something good of this, right?’

  He shrugged. ‘If something good can come from losing a child.’

  ‘It is awful, I know.’ She gripped his arm and shook it. ‘Marc and I had to overcome a great deal to make something good of our marriage. You can, too.’

  He was puzzled. ‘What did you and Marc have to overcome?’

  She released him. ‘Some day I will tell you. Not now. I am famished, and I intend to take your direction and find something to eat.’

  She walked away, and he opened Amelie’s door and entered the room, where curtains were drawn and only one lamp was lit.

  She stirred and he halted, watching her, but she did not wake. He lowered himself into the chair and drew a hand through his hair.

  How could they make something good of this? It seemed impossible.

  Chapter Thirteen

  When Amelie woke the next morning, it was like swimming through a dark, murky sea into the light. Even her room was bright with sunlight. She remembered strange dreams and a feeling like floating in water, bobbing along like a fish caught in a current too strong to swim against. Her head ached and she felt a little dizzy, but at least the objects in the room remained still and did not alter their appearance.

  Was she alone? Any time she woke before, when the room was dark, someone was sitting with her. Or at least she thought she’d been awake. She rolled over to see.

  Edmund was with her. Sleeping on the chair as he had done the night before. She’d thought he’d left her! That is what her muddled mind and frantic dreams had told her. Yet here he was.

  She checked herself. Her bleeding was not so alarming now. Mrs Bayliss said it was normal, and even the accoucheur told her to expect bleeding for a week or so. She need not stay in bed. She longed to be out of it, longed to be anywhere but this room, this bed, with the memories of what had happened here.