The Wyndham Legacy (Legacy 1)

“Any bleeding??

??

“No.”

“That’s good.” His hands were light as the petals of a rose, yet she felt his knowledge in the way he touched her. She looked at him to see that his eyes were closed. She was, she supposed, a collection of familiar landmarks to him, and he was checking for something unfamiliar.

“Have you been ill, my lady?”

“She’s been very ill, vomiting up her breakfast, her lunch, her dinner, and everything in between. She’s skinny as a stick, but now she’s felt well for at least a week and a half.”

She grinned at her husband, who was hovering like a preacher over his collection plate in a room full of thieves. “I do feel quite all right now, Doctor Raven. I tire more easily than I used to, but Badger assures me that’s normal.”

“Badger?”

“He’s our chef.”

“And my valet.”

“Interesting,” Doctor Raven said. He didn’t say anything more, merely continued pressing here and there, his eyes still closed. Then he pulled his hands away and straightened, bumping into Marcus.

“Well?”

“She appears to be fine, my lord. However, I would like her to remain in bed for two more days. She isn’t very far along in her pregnancy and there might be aftereffects from that fall. The first three months in a pregnancy are the most critical. I simply don’t know, no one does. Just keep her in bed and keep her calm. If she has any cramping or bleeding, have me fetched immediately.”

The Duchess said gently, “Doctor Raven, you really can speak to me, you know. I hear quite well and I have a modicum of intelligence.”

“I know, my lady, I know. But your husband appears to be very protective of you. I fear if I spoke to you he would accuse me of attempting to make an assignation. I’m young and just beginning my profession. I’m doing quite well. I don’t wish to be cut down before I’ve even reached the prime of my craft.”

“You’re quite right. At times my husband is most unaccountable. I will remain in bed.”

“Excellent. I will come to see you on Wednesday, if you have no more symptoms.”

Marcus ushered Doctor Raven from her bedchamber. She closed her eyes, wishing the headache would just stop, but she knew it wouldn’t. Badger would appear any minute now with laudanum. She didn’t want it, but she knew she had no choice. She had too many hovering friends and a husband who appeared suddenly as possessive of her as Aunt Wilhelmina was of the wretched Wyndham treasure or legacy, whatever.

She dutifully drank down the lemonade Badger silently handed her, knowing it was laced liberally with laudanum. As she fell into a deep sleep, she remembered again seeing that shadow, that slight movement before she tripped and fell down the stairs. And she knew in that final instant before sleep claimed her that she hadn’t tripped, that a hand had struck her hard between her shoulder blades, shoving her forward, and then she’d tripped. She heard again her own scream of terror, felt the blinding helplessness as she rolled and tumbled, trying desperately to grasp the railing to stop her fall, but she couldn’t, and then, suddenly, there were hands to stop her, hands drawing her up, and she fell into welcome blackness.

“I don’t like it, any of it.”

“Nor do I. I’ve never been so scared in my life, Marcus. I was standing there in the entrance hall, being intimidated by all those ancestors of yours glaring down on me when I heard this horrible scream and looked up to see your wife tumbling down the stairs. I got to her as quickly as I could.”

“If you hadn’t moved so quickly, she would have hit the bottom of the stairs and been thrown hard onto the marble and probably been killed. God, it curdles my blood to think about it. Thank you, North. Now we’re even. No more looking over my shoulder to see you behind me with you, in turn, looking over your shoulder for ruffians out to snatch my purse.”

“Oh no, not yet, Marcus.”

Marcus just shook his head. He’d never met a more stubborn, more loyal friend. “Have it your way, but I’m now in your debt, at least in my poor view. Like I said, when I came through that front door and saw you holding her and she was all limp, Jesus, I don’t want to be that afraid again in my life. No, I don’t like it, not a bit.”

“Would you care to be more specific, Marcus?”

Marcus told him about the Wyndham treasure or legacy, told him of the Duchess finding the old book in the library and being struck down, told him about the American relatives, Aunt Wilhelmina in particular, who was eccentric in the extreme, and who had probably poisoned a neighbor. “When James Wyndham found her unconscious on the floor before dawn in the library, I wanted to believe that she was struck down because of that damned book, but now I don’t believe it for an instant. Someone pushed her down those stairs, just as someone struck her down in the library and left her for dead.”

“Good God, man, you become an earl, you get stripped of your wealth, you get yourself married, regain your wealth, and now someone is trying to murder your wife?”

“That’s about the size of it. You want a brandy, North? My bastard uncle, God rot his soul, the former earl, has only the best French brandy.”

As he poured North Nightingale a snifter of his uncle’s prized smuggled French brandy, he heard him say, “A gentleman, your butler, I believe, was wringing his hands, nearly in tears, saying something about the Duchess being pregnant. Is she, Marcus?”

“Yes.”