“He has a chance.” She pressed her lips together to stop the trembling before attempting to say more. “The bullet didn’t strike his lung.”
Robert studied Valen as if he might divine the future if he stared hard enough. “That’s all right then, isn’t it? If there’s any chance at all, our captain here will take full advantage.”
The soldiers murmured their agreement.
“He’ll pull through. You’ll see.” Robert brought himself to attention, blind bravado filling his chest. “Not the sort to give up, is he.”
“Not bloody likely. Begging yer pardon, mum. Like as not the captain would give ole St. Peter a taste of his fives and march straight back down to earth.”
She turned at the familiar voice and was startled to see Lord St. Evert’s unlikely servant, looking much more likely in a soldier’s uniform. He tipped his shako and bowed. “Don’t you worry, miss. His Grace has enough backbone for three men.”
The others agreed.
His Grace. Some muddled part of her mind felt compelled to correct him. He’s not a duke. But she silenced the babbling marmot. Valen was far more noble than any duke she knew. Let the man call him His Grace.
Robert nudged her. “See here, Izzie. Watch over St. Evert, will you? I’ve got to take this lot and haul Merót’s carcass back to Whitehall. There are several gentlemen there very anxious to see the rascal has been recovered.”
“Must you leave so soon?”
He nodded, kissed her cheek. “I’ll be back as soon as I’ve been relieved.” Her brother and his men stormed out as suddenly as they had entered.
The room lay silent, but not nearly so bleak as it had been before her brother arrived.
A few moments later Lady Alameda glided in and stood beside Elizabeth at Valen’s bedside. “His color is passable.” She prodded her nephew with one finger. He stirred in response and then sank back into his stupor. “Out till tomorrow, I expect. And I, for one, have had enough excitement for one evening. It’s back to bed for me. Surely you don’t intend to stand here all night staring at him.”
“I doubt I could sleep.”
“Perhaps not, but you ought to try. You look positively ghastly, my dear, like you’ve been dragged through a briar patch.”
An interesting compliment coming from a lady whose uncombed hair resembled a thistle gone to seed. “Thank you. I shall take it under advisement.”
“Yes. Well, good! Go ahead and lie down then.”
“A small problem.”
The countess arched a brow and waited.
“There is a rather large man in my bed.”
“It is a very big bed.”
Elizabeth drew back, a hand to her breast. “Are you suggesting?”
“I’m suggesting you get some rest.” Lady Alameda sniffed imperiously. “I daresay we’ve taxed the servants enough for one night. Rather than selfishly rouse an army of them to attend to your needs, simply because you are too high in the instep to curl up next to—”
“Surely not in the same bed?”
“Pooh. Don’t be so missish. He’s unconscious. What could happen?”
“No.” All the lessons from her youth screamed at her. Her father’s birch rod waved an invisible warning in front of her face. “It wouldn’t be at all proper.”
“Good heavens, child. If you’re concerned about the proprieties, you may come sleep with me in my room. But I warn you, I have no wish to be woken again until the sun is well up tomorrow.” Lady Alameda crossed her arms and thrummed the toe of her slipper on the floor. “I daresay you will insist on pattering down here every ten minutes to see how he fares.”
She was right. Elizabeth wouldn’t be able to sleep for worrying about whether he was catching fever or in pain. “Very well. I’ll sleep in the chair.”
“My dear, there is only one chair, and the doctor plans to use that one as soon as he has put my brother at ease.” Lady Alameda glanced sharply around the room and pointed. “Well, I suppose you might use that little writing chair at the desk. Really, Elizabeth, be practical. The doctor makes a perfectly proper chaperone.”
Elizabeth went and got the straight-backed wooden chair and plunked it firmly on the floor beside the bed.
“Suit yourself.” Honore shrugged and bent to kiss Valen on the forehead. “You’re almost as obstinate as this one here. Stubborn boy.” She ruffled back his newly shorn hair and murmured, “If you weren’t my favorite nephew, I might be quite peeved at you for putting us through all this turmoil.”
Valen remained silent.
Lady Alameda straightened and cast a viperous look at Elizabeth. “It is well you plan to watch over him. Should anything happen to him, I might blame you for all this.”
“No more than I already do.”
“Humph.” The countess’s features cooled as rapidly as they had turned vicious. “Well then, I shall leave you to wrestle with your conscience in peace. And for heaven’s sake. Get some rest.”
Lady Alameda meandered slowly out of the room, turning out the extra lanterns as she went, and blowing out the candles.
She stopped in the doorway and turned. “He really is a fine specimen, is he not?”
“Good night, my lady.”
She bristled at Izzie’s dismissal. “I believe that uncomfortable desk chair is no more than you deserve.”
The countess chuckled, and the wicked sound of it echoed down the hall as she walked away. Elizabeth shook her head.
A few minutes later, the doctor assisted a distraught Lord Ransley into the room. Breathing with great difficulty, he hobbled to his son’s bedside. “This is not like him at all. He doesn’t look well. Normally he’s strong as two bulls and an ox. He looks so... so pale.” Lord Ransley’s own complexion blanched even whiter.
The physician checked Valen’s pulse. “It is precisely as I told you. Lord St. Evert is resting comfortably.”
Lord Ransley stared at his son, hesitantly brushing the side of Valen’s face with his knuckles. A sliver of water ran down the father’s gaunt cheek and sluiced down onto the lace of his collar. “You must get well,” he whispered. Then he turned his head
