Nicholas saw Block pulling on his black coat over a white linen shirt not tucked into his trousers. He did, however, have his boots on. "Block, get the physician immediately. Go, man."
Peter stirred some five minutes later. Both Nicholas and Rosalind , now in a dressing down brought to her by Mrs. McGiver, hovered close, her feet, like his, unfortunately still bare. Rosalind dabbed a handkerchief dipped in rose water to his forehead.
"Peter?"
His eyes slowly opened. "My lord?" "Yes. How do you feel?"
"There were three of you, but now there are only two, so I must be better."
"Yes, you are better. Peter, what happened? Mrs. McGiver found you unconscious on the floor."
"My lord!"
It was Marigold, breathing fast, racing to a stop inside the drawing room door. "There are visitors. They're coming fast, impudent as you please, and here it is barely dawn."
Nicholas said, "Keep yourself still, Peter. Rosalind is going to give you some nice strong tea. I'll be back."
He walked into the entrance hail to see his stepmother standing squarely in front of him, dressed entirely in lavender all the way to the straw bonnet atop her head with two very purple curling feathers that quivered, chin up, looking like a banty rooster ready to take all comers. Arranged behind her were all three of her sons—Richard, Lancelot, and Aubrey.
Nicholas crossed his arms over his chest. "Well, now, it's true I've been gone from England for a long time, but isn't this a bit early to pay a morning visit?"
Miranda said, "You aren't dressed. There is a bruise on your foot. Your bare foot."
He shrugged. "Why are you four here in my house?"
Richard stepped forward. "We had meant to arrive last evening, but our carriage broke down and we were forced to spend the night in Meckly-Hinton."
His mother whisked around him to stand in front of him. As if she were somehow protecting him from Nicholas? "We were forced to stay the night at this miserable little inn called the Raving Rooster, set in the middle of a village that shouldn't exist since it has nothing to recommend it."
"And you got up before dawn to pay me a visit. May I ask why?"
Richard Vail, dressed in black, dark beard stubble on his face, gently eased in front of his mother again. He said without preamble, "We are here to warn you."
Miranda stuck her head around his shoulder. "I told him, why bother? You hate the lot of us, who cares if you croak it? Or if someone croaks you?"
"Mother," Richard said.
"Warn me?" Nicholas's voice was all languid and arrogant, and he knew it drove Richard mad. But Richard didn't look as if he wanted to kill him; he looked pale, he looked— frightened. Nicholas frowned at him. "I know the four of you would not shed a tear were I belowground, yet you all troop into my house at near dawn to warn me?"
"Yes," Lancelot said, his poet's face flushed with anger, his voice nearly breaking with it, "but I didn't want to come. Don't tell you a bloody thing, that's what I wanted, but Richard insisted, blast him. I don't know about Aubrey."
"Shut up, Lance," Richard said, not looking at him. His brother sucked in a curse.
Aubrey, with his red hair and bright intelligent eyes, nearly bounced forward. "I wanted to come, Nicholas. I don't even know you, so why would I hate you? You and your bride were quite nice to me at your wedding. Listen, Nicholas, the fact is, we are here. Mother is fatigued, though she has the energy of three Druid priests. Won't you invite us in? We really are here to warn you, that's no lie."
"My lord!"
Trying to edge past his half brothers was Block, towing a very tall, very gaunt man in his wake. The man's hair was nearly as white as his own hair had been in the vision.
"You are the physician, sir?"
The man gave him a short bow. "I am Dr. Knotts. Where is my patient? I hope it is serious enough to justify bringing me out at this unleavened hour of the morning. I say, there are quite a few people standing here in the entrance hall. Madam, I must say you look on the bilious side. Perhaps it is because of the vast quantities of lavender you're wearing. My lord, would you care to direct me?"
Nicholas eyed his stepmother. "Ma'am, you and your whelps will accomp
any Block to the library and he will give you tea. I shall be along shortly."
"But—"