Lord Iverbrook's Heir Part 12

cared for us when we were ill, but she has so many other good qualities. We all love her dearly, Peter too."

"At all events, she is not needed while you and I are here. Is there nothing else we can do for him?"

"He must drink some more in a while, and Mama will bring him another draught when it is time for him to take it. Patience is often the hardest part of nursing."

"Is Lady Whitton recovered from the shock? How I admire her! She was plainly much shaken, yet she

had the remedy to hand in a moment."

"How else should she act? If there is something one can do, one does it. But of a sudden she looked so old. Is it not painful to watch one's parents age?"

The viscount thought of his mother, who had not noticeably changed since he could remember, and who had fallen into hysterics if one of her sons appeared with a sc.r.a.ped knee or a b.l.o.o.d.y nose.

"Is she well?"

"I gave her her own sedative tea and made her promise to stay abed for two hours. I shall call her if anything changes in the meantime. Oh, here is Polly. Thank you, child. He is resting quietly now."

The maid curtseyed and tiptoed out. Selena poured a little of the lotion onto her handkerchief and a fresh herbal scent filled the air. She wiped Peter's face gently.

"If nothing else, it is cleaning off the mud," said Iverbrook, trying for a light tone.

"Yes, and even the purple stains are fading a little."

All too soon there was nothing left to do but wait. Peter lay alarmingly still, with only bouts of muttering to suggest that the hallucinations continued. Selena and Iverbrook sat on either side of the bed, drained, yet alert to any change in his condition.

"There was a note inside the letter," said Selena, after a long silence. "I found it later. From a JamesGoodenough; one of Hubble's clerks, I suppose? It said you knew nothing of the lawsuit.""It's not important.""No, but I'm sorry."He looked at her, saw a glint of tears in her eyes, and stretched his hand across the narrow bed between them. She clasped it briefly, felt forgiven, felt the warmth of his strong fingers renewing her energy.

"Time for barleywater," she said.

Delia burst into the room, her face tearstained.

"It's all my fault!" she wailed. "If only I'd let him come with us!"

"Hus.h.!.+" said Selena sharply. "Of course it is not your fault, little nodc.o.c.k." She hugged her sister tight.

"But if you want to help, I wish that you will look after Mama and see that the household does not come to a standstill. And ask Cook to prepare some luncheon, for I declare I am positively famished."

After a few more words and a peep at Peter, Delia went away cheered and rea.s.sured.

"I had not thought I could touch a morsel," said Iverbrook, pouring barleywater, "but since you mentioned luncheon, I find I am sharp-set after all."

"I only said that to give Delia something to do," Selena confessed, "but I too am suddenly ravenous.

Come, little boy, let me help you sit up. Uncle Hugh has a drink for you."

Peter peered at her drowsily; his eyes were still dilated, his skin hot to the touch. His pulse seemed to have slowed, but it was also weaker so that was no comfort. He drank gluttonously, liquid dribbling from the corners of his mouth. There was no sign of perspiration, and as Selena laid his limp form down again she began to despair.

Luncheon arrived, and they both found they were not as hungry as they had imagined.

"Thank heaven Cook is not temperamental," said Selena as Polly carried out a tray of barely touched food. "I think I will go and ask Mama for the medicine, Hugh, unless you wish to go?"

"I ought to have a word with Tom, perhaps. You don't mind staying here alone? I'll be as quick as I

can."

"I am sure you need to stretch your legs. A sickroom is no place for a gentleman. Indeed, you have more than exceeded the bounds of duty, and Mama or Delia can keep me company now.

He took both her hands in his and smiled at her lovingly.

"It is not a matter of duty. A gentleman has as much right here as a young girl or an elderly lady, if you

will have me. Peter needs both aunt and uncle."

She looked up at him, trying to read his eyes. They baffled her. She dropped her gaze to his mud-smeared neckcloth, then turned away as he released her hands.

"Yes, and also his medicine."

"I'm on my way." He bowed.

He met Lady Whitton on the stairs, carrying a vial full of a most unappetising grey-green liquid. He almost

turned back to watch the effect of the draught, but it was already mid-afternoon, and Tom must be on his way. If Peter died, the lawsuit begun by the unscrupulous Hubble would be irrelevant. That alternative was unthinkable. Peter would survive and the suit must be stopped.

In the library he wrote a quick note to his new lawyer. Crowe was the best person to deal with the matter. As an afterthought he added a commendation of one James Goodenough, with a suggestion that

Mr. Crowe might look into hiring the young man next time he found himself in need of an honest clerk.

Tom Arbuckle was in the kitchen, talking quietly and seriously with Cook. He jumped to his feet, tookthe letter, and listened to his instructions."Be back termorrer evening, G.o.d willing, m'lord," he said. "Don't let the little master die."He kissed Cook good-bye and was off.Iverbrook pretended not to notice. He was about to leave when Bannister entered, sighing heavily."Summun ought to rescue poor Miss Delia from the Bart, Cook," said the butler. "It's a sin and a shame the way he . . . Oh, I beg your pardon, my lord. I didn't see your lords.h.i.+p."

"Nor should I be intruding on your domain, Bannister, only with the house all at sixes and sevens I did

not want to disrupt things further when I needed Tom. Where are Miss Delia and, er, the Bart? Deviltake him, I'd forgot the man existed!""In the drawing room, my lord. And he's telling her dreadful stories of people as died of poison fruit and snakes and such in the Indies. It sounds like a very dangerous place," he said severely, adding, "How's the lad, my lord?"

"No change. Lady Whitton is physicking him now. I'll try and rescue Miss Delia before I go up again."Iverbrook had just reached the drawing room when the front door bell rang. He heard Bannister'shurrying steps and turned back to help the butler dissuade any visitors from entering.

The door swung open to reveal a liveried groom. Beyond him in the drive stood an elegant landau, from which emerged a vision of loveliness, clad in rose pink.

"Good G.o.d!" said his lords.h.i.+p. "Go away, Bel!"

Chapter 11.

Unperturbed by the viscount's hostility, Mrs. Parcott trod daintily up the steps, leaving Lady Gant to struggle out of the carriage behind her.

"Good day, Iverbrook. I see your manners are become as rustic as your attire." She looked with disfavour at his besmirched coat, then smiled sweetly as her mother panted up beside her. "I think you have not met Mama, Iverbrook. Mama, this is Lord Iverbrook who, I must suppose, is visiting the Whittons. Iverbrook, my mother, Lady Gant."

"La, sir, I have been hearing about you forever, I declare. Such a good friend as you have been to my poor, widowed little girl," simpered her ladys.h.i.+p.

The viscount was forced to bow over her pudgy hand with a semblance of politeness, but he shot a darkling glance at Amabel.

"I fear you are arrived at an inopportune moment, ma'am," he said. "There is sickness in the house." He sensed Bannister standing firm behind him, barring the way.

Lady Gant began to splutter apologies, condolences, and excuses in equal measure, and turned to go. Her daughter was not so easily ousted.

"We are not afraid of illness, are we, Mama?" she said brightly. "Lady Whitton will be glad of a distraction from her cares, I vow. La, it is our duty to visit the sick, is it not?"

Negating Iverbrook's and Bannister's efforts to stop her by simply ignoring them, she swept into the hall.

The viscount saw that the butler was about to essay a final protest. He shook his head infinitesimally and

jerked it towards the drawing room. An idea had come to him for killing two birds with one stone, and

from the light in Bannister's eye he saw that the elderly man had understood him.

Lady Gant and Mrs. Parcott were ushered into the drawing room. Delia made a despairing face at Iverbrook and curtseyed to the visitors.

She moved to stand beside him as Sir Aubrey made his bow and began a flowery speech of welcome.

"Mama said I must keep Cousin Aubrey occupied," she whispered.

"No longer necessary," he whispered back, then said aloud, "Delia, your mother was looking for you not

five minutes since."

"I'll go at once," said Delia obediently, twinkling at him.

Mrs. Parcott t.i.ttered. "You are grown positively paternal, Iverbrook." She fluttered her eyelashes. "I

think the country does not agree with you. Do you return soon to town?"

"Not, at least, until my nephew is out of danger, ma'am," he responded harshly. "You will excuse me, I must see how he does." He left without a backward glance.