He was stretched out on the sofa, half comatose, when a sharp rap came on the library door. Shaking himself awake, Drew hauled himself up to a sitting position and bid entrance.
When a gentleman strode into the room, Drew narrowed his bleary-eyed gaze. He thought his caller might be Haviland, but his vision was blurred so much that there seemed to be two of him. Drew, however, recognized the curt voice as Haviland’s.
“I trust you will explain the urgency of your summons, your grace. I had a winning hand.”
Drew tried carefully to enunciate, but his speech still sounded slurred when he replied, “I will reimbursh you for any losh you suffered.”
Haviland’s eyebrow shot up as he regarded Drew. “You surprise me, Arden. You’re three sheets to the wind.”
“Four,” Drew responded, holding up five fingers.
“So why did you call me here?” the earl demanded impatiently.
Drew grimaced as he tried to gather his courage. “Bloody truth is, I’m sshtepping aside. You can have ’er.”
“Have whom?”
“Roshlyn! Who else would I bloody well be talking about?”
“I haven’t the faintest idea.”
Drew glared balefully. “Y’ can’t tell me you ’aven’t been purshuing her…I know better.”
“I might have had she not been betrothed to you.”
“But
“You have a touching but misplaced confidence in my powers of seduction.”
“No, I don’t. You sheduced ’er before I ever met ’er.”
Doubt, suspicion, irritation all tinged the earl’s expression. “Just what the devil are you up to, Arden?”
“I’m trying to make ’er happy!” Drew practically shouted and then quickly clamped a hand to his temple.
“You are giving up your claim to her?”
Drew shook his throbbing head. “Thash the trouble…never had any real claim to ’er. Sheesh yours and always hash been.”
Haviland crossed his arms over his powerful chest. “I wasn’t born yesterday, your grace. You’ll change your mind when you are sober, and then you’ll call me out for daring to woo your lady. I’ve no desire to meet you over pistols at dawn. If you’re half as good a shot as I am, we’re likely to end up killing each other.”
“Don’t be an ash, Havilan’,” Drew retorted furiously. “I’m tryin’ to be damned noble, givin’ her to a man she can love.” He took another long swallow of whiskey before saying in a despairing tone, “Roshlyn loves you, you bleedin’ idiot.”
There was a long pause while Haviland tried to assimilate the announcement. “She never gave any indication that she held me in any special affection.”
“Well, shee does. Sheesh been plotting your capture shince I met her…and I ’elped her, bloody fool that I am.” His slurred laughter was bitter with irony. “Roshlyn will make you”-he took another pull from the bottle-“a bloody fine bride.”
“I don’t doubt it.”
“You should feel damn forshunate, Havilan’.”
“I don’t doubt that either.”
Drew raised his gaze to glare again. “You damned well better make ’er happy when you marry her, or you’ll answer to me. Do I make myshelf clear?”
Haviland’s mouth curved in an ironic smile. “Perfectly, your grace. And I can promise you that I will give it my best effort.”
Haviland turned and walked out, shutting the door softly behind him.
Drew stood and stared for a long moment, feeling as if he had a gaping, burning hole in his chest where his heart should be.
So why then when he threw the bottle against the library door with all his might, shattering the glass, did it seem as if his heart had shattered into fragments at the same time?
From the doorway of Constance’s sickroom, Roslyn watched with Winifred as the two young Baines girls tiptoed quietly to their mother’s bedside.
After a moment, the invalid’s eyes fluttered open. Upon seeing her daughters, Constance gave a wan but beatific smile and murmured a faint greeting. “Good morning, my darlings.”
“Are you feeling better, Mama?” whispered the older daughter, Sarah.
“Much better, thankfully,” Constance assured them. “The doctor’s medicine seems to have helped a good deal. My chest does not hurt as much, and my cough is less frequent.”
Winifred’s housekeeper had sat with Constance all during the night, applying warm compresses to her chest and helping her sip the doctor’s herbal concoction to calm her hacking.
“Oh, Mama,” the youngest girl, Daisy, exclaimed in relief. “We were ever so worried for you.”
“I know, my love. I was exceedingly worried, too. So tell me…how do you like your new home?”
“Mama, it is quite famous,” Sarah responded with awe in her tone. “Our bedchamber is immense, and we each have our own featherbed, so I don’t have to endure Daisy’s kicking. And you must see the nursery. Aunt Winifred says we are to have our own governess so you won’t have to teach us anymore. And Miss Loring has brought us ever so many books to read. Daisy likes the picture books best, but I like the map books that show all the countries you told us about.”
“And you, Daisy, my love?” Constance asked her youngest daughter. “Are you pleased to be here?”
Daisy nodded with eager enthusiasm and held up the pretty porcelain doll she had clutched to her chest. “Oh,
Constance raised her gaze to Winifred, her look full of gratitude. “I cannot thank you enough, my lady. I think you must be an angel in disguise.”
From the doorway, Winifred flushed with embarrassed pleasure but shook her head. “’Tis only fitting they should make their home here. And you, too, my dear. You are all very welcome at Freemantle Park.”
Tears welled up in Constance’s eyes as she returned Winifred’s smile.
Watching them, Roslyn felt her heart warm at the bittersweet moment. The two woman shared a common bond, caring for the children of the man they had each loved.
Such love would have to be profoundly strong and deep to be so accepting, Roslyn reflected. The thought brought an ache to her throat. She wondered if she could be as magnanimous were she to learn that Drew had a second family. It would be devastatingly painful, but she believed she could-
But then there was no point in indulging in such distressing speculation, Roslyn scolded herself. Instead she ought simply to feel glad for her friend.
And there was more reason for gladness. This morning it seemed less likely that Constance would die from her grave illness.
Winifred broke the tender moment just then by clearing her throat, as if the display of emotion flustered her. “Now, then,” she said with a return of her usual pragmatism as she addressed Constance. “You should have a few moments alone with your daughters, but afterward they must let you rest. I will send a maid to sit with you, but you know to ring the bell if you need anything at all.”
“Thank you, my lady,” Constance murmured again.
“And you must call me by my given name,” Winifred added briskly. “This ‘lady’ business will not do if we are to be friends.”
Constance laughed softly at that. “I should very much like to be friends, Winifred.”
“Very well then, Constance…”
Beaming, Winifred turned and left the bedchamber. Roslyn followed her out to the corridor and shut the door quietly behind her.
“It was the right decision to bring them here,” Winifred declared, her face suffused with pleasure. “The girls will be happy here, and so will I. They are the children I never had,” she added softly.
“And I am very happy
