He frowned and felt that horrible pounding hammer start up in his head again. A savage blow to the head must be his most dangerous hurt, then. What if he had lost his wits? What would become of Stratford Park and all the farms and cottages? So many people depended on him for a roof over their heads and bread in their bellies but, worst of all, what about Juno? If he was addled, who was going to take care of his niece until she came of age?
His mother was her only other close relative and Alaric shuddered away from the very idea of leaving Juno completely at her lack of mercy ever again. Under the provisions of the will he had made a decade ago when he came of age, Juno would inherit all the unentailed land and his private fortune when he died. Every fortune hunter in the British Isles would try to marry her by fair means or foul. At least half would not mind if it was only held in trust because he was locked up in a madhouse as they could then borrow against her expectations. The poor girl would become an object to be bought and sold rather than a sensitive being with the right to make her own choices in life. So he simply had to be well and sane. That was the only way to make sure Juno was who she wanted to be.
He made himself open his eyes, then blinked against the pain as his vision cleared and he found himself staring up at Mrs Marianne Turner’s unique set of feminine features yet again. This time her face was shadow softened and he wondered if he had conjured her from his dreams and blinked again. As she was still here, at least he had not imagined her the first time.
‘Are you in a great deal of pain, my lord?’ she whispered as she misread his frown.
‘A little, but please will you tell me if my wits are addled before I worry about anything else, Marianne,’ he pleaded urgently. Her given name slipped out, but keeping guard on his tongue did not seem important with the threat of madness hanging over him. ‘I beg your pardon, Mrs Turner,’ he corrected himself impatiently when she frowned at him as if he was talking another language.
‘As far as I can tell on less than a day’s acquaintance, you are sane as you ever were,’ she told him with a shrug, as if she had her doubts about his sanity at their first meeting on Miss Donne’s doorstep, so that was not very sane at all.
‘Good,’ he murmured. ‘Is it still today, then?’ he asked as the rest of her words sank in. It felt as if far more time should have gone by since he first set eyes on her, but at least he had not lost days or even weeks lying here like a block.
She took a workaday sort of man’s watch case out of her pocket, flicked it open and held the timepiece up to the shaded candle flame he supposed had been masked for his benefit. He silently thanked her for that, knowing even a candle’s worth of light shining into his eyes would hurt like hell.
‘Two o’clock in the morning,’ she told him briskly, ‘so it is actually tomorrow if you wish to be strictly accurate.’
‘Thank you, it seems as well. While we are being precise, you might as well tell me what other injuries I have sustained.’
‘Are you sure you want to know?’ she asked with the wry smile he was beginning to watch out for. Teaching himself not to do that was another task he could face when he was feeling better.
‘If I am of sound mind and need to remake my will because my life is in danger, I need to know about that so it can be done properly this time and my niece will be protected from fortune hunters and her property being taken over by the Crown estate,’ he told her very seriously. Juno’s future was much too important for him to be careless about it any longer.
‘According to Dr Long, you have been very lucky although I would argue. You have to stay in a dark room for several days so we can make sure you suffer no lasting damage from that blow on the head and it is hardly good luck to be thrown against a stone wall by a bucking horse. None of the hurts you sustained will be life threatening as long as you are patient and do not go galloping across the country on another mad ride for a month or so and stay in bed until all danger of worse consequences than a headache have passed.’
The thought of his headache jarring if he even got on a horse made another mad dash across country seem unthinkable. He was more frustrated by her constant ‘my lording’ than the idea of not being able to get out of bed. It felt as if they should be beyond distinctions of rank by now, but he supposed he was forced on her and her brother, so he would just have to endure her reminders of who he was and how poorly he fitted in here. ‘What about those other injuries you mentioned, how bad are they?’
‘You must know you have sprained your wrist by now since you tried to move it and flinched and you have sprained and perhaps
