The Heir - Catherine Coulter [23]
He would never forget the horror of those long hours, his fear that she would die, his ultimate fury at the earl for his damned indifference. “No,” he said slowly, “I did not think you would remember. The pain was so intense that I believed your mind wouldn’t allow you to remember.” She was being polite, he realized, making certain that he knew he was still welcome here, that he would always be welcome. He rose suddenly, wanting only to leave. He didn’t believe he could stand kindness from her. “It grows late, Ann, and I should stop by and check on Mr. Crocker’s stomach pains. It’s a thirty-minute ride. The old man will probably be cursing the air blue by the time I get there. He calls me boy, at my age.”
He doesn’t want those memories, Lady Ann thought, staring up at him. It was a horrible time for me, but he was my physician, nothing more, and I have made him uncomfortable. She rose to stand beside him. She found an easy smile for him, but it was difficult. “Do come by tomorrow, Paul, if for no other reason than to pronounce Arabella fit again. I do hope that you will since I don’t wish to hear her argue with you.”
“Of course.”
Lady Ann placed her hand upon his arm and again felt a surge of pleasure course through her. She said shyly, “It would give me—give us great pleasure if you would stay to dinner. I will have cook prepare capon, your favorite, with almond sauce and those small white onions.” Her husband had hated capon. She determined to have it at least once a week now.
You do not owe me your gratitude, he wanted to shout at her. “As you wish, Ann,” he said instead. Through long years of practice, he kept other thoughts to himself. He patted her hand as he would a patient’s who had just followed his instructions perfectly. “Tomorrow, then, my dear.”
Lady Ann stood silently at the door of the Velvet Room until Dr. Branyon had accompanied Crupper out of her hearing. She realized in that instant that she felt warm all over. Yet the evening wasn’t warm. The fire was banked. It was ridiculous. Goodness, she had a grown daughter.
She turned an absurdly youthful face to find the earl’s eyes on her, his look too intent for her comfort. Because she was not a young, inexperienced girl, she was able to smile at him, as if nothing at all in the world was on her mind and say, “Elsbeth, if you do not retire to your bed soon, I shall have to fetch some matchsticks to keep your eyes propped open. Come, love, say good night to Justin and come with me.”
Elsbeth yawned, then clapped her hand over her mouth.
“Have I been such a boring companion, Elsbeth? Don’t spare me the truth, I can deal with it. After all, I have already dealt with far worse from your sister.”
“Oh, of course not, my lord. Not boring at all, I swear it to you, my lord.”
“Justin.”
“Yes, Justin, but that is difficult, my lord. You are a lord while I am not much of anything. You are very kind to let me call you by your name.”
Damnation, her candor would smite the coldest of hearts, except for her father’s. Justin wondered if the late earl had even known his eldest daughter, if he would have recognized her if he’d passed her in his own house. “You may call me other names as well. I’m certain your sister will. She will show no restraint at all.”
“Oh, no, my lord, that’s not true. Arabella is perfect. It is I who am terribly gauche. I never know the right thing to do. I would love to be like Arabella. She’s so confident, so sure of herself. Yes, forgive me. It’s just that I’m very tired and that’s why I yawned in your face. It has nothing to do with you, my lord, er, Justin.”
Lady Ann rescued her stepdaughter. “Pay no attention to his lordship, my dear, he’s teasing you. As for Arabella, she is herself and I am glad you aren’t like her. One of each of you is just right. Now, off to your bed.” She clasped Elsbeth’s hand and leaned close. “We have much