The Games She Played E-Book

Meredith Bond

• Herausgeber: Anessa Books
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2019

Beschreibung

Can the Ladies’ Wagering Whist Society help an extroverted sportswoman and a dedicated scientist solve matters of the heart?
Diana Hemshawe is enjoying the perfect life—her first season in Regency society, racing her beloved horse, and the companionship of the ladies of the Wagering Whist Society. When her father has a heart attack, she has to refocus her energies on nursing him back to health. Balancing responsibilities shouldn’t be too difficult for someone as resourceful as Diana … except for the charming and thoughtful doctor who is so very distracting.
Andrew, Lord Colburn, used to be passionate about just one thing—pursuing the cutting edge of medical research. Now his excitement in discovering a new cure for his patient’s heart disease is warring with his growing fascination with the man’s clever and spirited daughter. But can he learn to balance his loyalty to patients with his desire for her?
It will take all the guile of the Ladies’ Wagering Whist Society to ensure that Andrew and Diana have a sporting chance at love.

Leseprobe

Table of Contents

Book Description

The Games She Played

Copyright

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Author’s Note

A Trick of Mirrors

Chapter One

Ladies’ Wagering Whist Society

About the Author

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Books By Meredith Bond

Can the Ladies’ Wagering Whist Society help an extroverted sportswoman and a dedicated scientist solve matters of the heart?

Diana Hemshawe is enjoying the perfect life—her first season in Regency society, racing her beloved horse, and the companionship of the ladies of the Wagering Whist Society. When her father has a heart attack, she has to refocus her energies on nursing him back to health. Balancing responsibilities shouldn’t be too difficult for someone as resourceful as Diana … except for the charming and thoughtful doctor who is so very distracting.

Andrew, Lord Colburn, used to be passionate about just one thing—pursuing the cutting edge of medical research. Now his excitement in discovering a new cure for his patient’s heart disease is warring with his growing fascination with the man’s clever and spirited daughter. But can he learn to balance his loyalty to patients with his desire for her?

It will take all the guile of the Ladies’ Wagering Whist Society to ensure that Andrew and Diana have a sporting chance at love.

The Games She Played

The Ladies’ Wagering Whist Society

Book Three

Meredith Bond

Copyright, 2019, Meredith Bond.

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form by any means—graphic, electronic or mechanical—without permission in writing from the author, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review.

Cover Art by QuarterbackTB

Logo by Anjali Banerji

Edited by The Editing Hall

Published by Anessa Books

Chapter One

~June 1~

It’s a bet!” Lord Swindon said with a laugh and a greedy glint in his eye. He held out his hand. The Viscount Rivers gave the man a tight smile as they shook on the deal.

Epsom Downs was unusually quiet, with only maybe a hundred people milling about or chatting from their carriages. The Derby Stakes, one of the biggest races of the season, would not be held for another few weeks. This made it a perfect day for the private relay race, which had been arranged by Lord Bunbury to hold over eager race-goers as they awaited the big day.

Rivers had been thrilled to hear of the race, which was to be ridden not by jockeys but by anyone at all who wished to enter. He’d signed himself and his daughter, Diana, up immediately.

“And here I thought you were an intelligent man,” Swindon said with a shake of his head. “Clearly, looks are deceiving.”

“I beg your pardon?” Rivers asked, lowering his eyebrows.

“It’s one thing to bet on a race you’re riding in,” Swindon said, dipping his thumbs into his waistcoat pockets, spreading apart his open double-breasted coat of blue superfine, “but a relay where half the race is being ridden by a girl?” He quickly held up a hand, “Now, don’t misunderstand me, your daughter is a pretty little filly, but there’s no possible way she can ride well enough to win you this race.”

The man, oblivious to the stupidity of his words, turned to look at the young woman in question. She was standing some ten feet away talking with her cousin, Lord Audley. “I might like her to ride my…” He gave a little chuckle and wisely chose not to finish that sentence. “But I doubt her ability to ride a horse well enough to win a race.”

“Did we say five hundred?” Rivers ground out between his clenched teeth. He gave the man a hard smile. “I meant five thousand.”

Swindon’s eyebrows rose to the top of his forehead. “Do you have that sort of money at hand, old man?”

“Do you? Do you have the guts to make the wager?”

Swindon lifted his nose into the air. “I want it in writing.”

“Fine. Get some paper.”

Swindon’s lips quirked up to one side as he gave Rivers a little nod. “I’m sure someone has some about.” He turned and headed off to find the required implements, assuming Rivers would follow. He wasn’t wrong.

~*~

Diana Hemshawe, allowed her mare, Nike, to start off the race toward the back of the pack in order to gauge the strengths of each rider and mount. Slowly, as she watched other horses fall away behind her and Nike, she was certain they wouldn’t have any difficulty winning. The race had been open to the first ten people to sign up, as long as they weren’t professional jockeys, so she’d worried a bit that there could be some serious competition. Happily, it didn’t seem as if there were too many here who had the skill and experience of her and her father.

They’d been racing throughout Europe for the past nine years, traveling from course to course, town to town. It had been an incredible way to spend one’s adolescence. She’d learned more about the world and its people than she ever would have from the comfort of her father’s estate.

Her mother had implored her not to go with her father. When he’d invited her, she was only ten-years-old. Her mother had promised Diana she could learn as much about the world as she wanted—through books. Diana nearly laughed as she recalled her mother’s earnest, if futile, arguments.

No, Diana had eagerly gone with her father, and she’d never once regretted the decision. She loved the thrill of the race, the camaraderie of the racing set, even the parties afterward. Today when they won this race, she would celebrate with him as she had after every race, sitting comfortably among the men and women of the racing world in the local pub or inn. Of course, now everyone they sat with would be speaking English—something Diana was still getting used to after so many years of living in France and Germany.

Her father had insisted they return to England when Diana turned nineteen so she could find a husband. She was yet to be convinced of the necessity, but she did admit she was enjoying London. They’d been here for nearly three months, and she’d even managed to make friends, which wasn’t something she’d ever done very much of. It was simply too difficult to maintain when one traveled so frequently. Now, as a member of the Ladies’ Wagering Whist Society, she knew what true friendship was.

From the corner of her eye, Diana spied two competitors who might actually provide her with a challenge. They were both men on thoroughbreds and clearly as eager to win as she. But despite the fact that their horses were bigger than hers, the riders themselves were both much heavier. She clearly had the advantage.

Leaning forward, she whispered in Nike’s ear, “Good girl, Nike, just a little faster now. Not too much, though; we don’t actually want to show these men what we can really do yet.” She loved seeing the shocked expression on gentlemen’s faces when they saw just how fast she could ride. But she would hold off on that for a later race. A slight tightening of her knees against the horse’s flank gave her mare the signal to increase her speed just enough to edge out her two competitors. She approached Tattenham Corner, where her father would take over the race.

Once her father had taken over, Diana rode her slightly heaving horse into the center of the field to watch her father easily win the race. She’d gotten only about halfway across when her father’s body jerked upward as if he’d been shot. He dropped the reins, his right hand going to his left shoulder. Diana jolted with shock as he tumbled from his horse. Thank God he was on the inside of the track and tumbled into the center, away from the deadly hooves of the other horses.

Within seconds, she was galloping toward him and frantically looking around to see who’d shot him. Why would someone do that? Had he crossed someone? Could her dear, sweet, charming father have an enemy who’d followed them to England?

She jumped from her horse when she was barely a few feet away and ran to his disturbingly unmoving body.

“Papa! Papa!” she screamed.

He lay there, his face gray and still—too still. He wasn’t conscious! His leg was bent at a terrible angle, and it was clearly broken.

“Doctor! Is there a doctor?” she screamed out over the thundering of the horses still racing.

A man came running, ducking under the rail on the other side of the racetrack. “Is he all right?”

“Are you a doctor?”

“No, I’m Bunbury. I organized the race.” The man knelt down and put a hand over her father’s mouth to see if he were still breathing.

“Didn’t you hire a doctor to be present should there be an accident?” Diana asked.

The man’s worried eyes met hers. “No, I didn’t think of it.”

“Is he all right?” asked Audley, Diana’s cousin, dropping to the ground next to her.

“No. We need a doctor immediately,” Diana answered.

“He’s breathing, but barely,” Lord Bunbury said. “I’ll get a wagon and send for a surgeon. We’ll take him to the King’s Head. It’s not far.” He took off running.

Tears pricked Diana’s eyes as she reached out and brushed her father’s dark brown hair from his forehead. “It’s all right, Papa. It’s going to be all right,” she whispered, praying he could hear her.

An agonizing twenty minutes later, he was lying on a bed at the King’s Head Tavern. The surgeon had just come in and been appraised of the accident. Diana stood off to one side of the room, watching intently. Never had she seen her father fall from a horse. She was certain he didn’t know how.

“Look for a bullet hole in his shoulder,” she directed the surgeon, who’d started with the most obvious thing, her father’s leg.

The man stood up from where he’d been bent over her father’s lower limbs and turned to look at her. “He was shot?”

“That’s the way it looked. It’s what made him fall,” she answered.

The surgeon immediately examined both of her father’s shoulders. “Are you certain? There’s no bleeding, no broken skin. Nothing,” the man said.

“That’s… That’s very strange. I distinctly saw him sit up and put his hand to his shoulder. It was then that he fell,” she said.

“I saw it too.” Audley nodded.

She tried to give her cousin a smile to thank him for his support, but she couldn’t get her lips to cooperate. There just wasn’t a smile in her.

“No. There’s no wound here at all,” the doctor confirmed. He felt along his body. “He’s got some broken ribs, which isn’t surprising. But it’s his leg I’m most worried about. It needs to be set immediately. Good thing he isn’t conscious, because this is going to hurt.”

Diana turned away as he got to work cutting away her father’s boot and stockings to reveal his leg.

Unfortunately, it must have been the pain that actually made her father come to. He inhaled sharply as the doctor set the broken bone. Once again, his hand flew to his shoulder.

“Papa!” Diana flew to his side. “It’s all right, Papa. The surgeon is here. He’s seeing to you. You’re going to be fine.”

Her father’s pale blue eyes shimmered from his too-white face. “Diana, my sweet… You shouldn’t be here,” he whispered, his voice hoarse. He seemed winded, even though she knew that couldn’t be the case.

“Of course I’m here. I will always look after you. You know that. I’ve always done so, haven’t I?”

He gave her a weak smile and a feeble pat on her arm. “You have. I don’t know…what I would do…without you. Please don’t mourn…for me when I’m gone…my sweet. Ride. Ride another race…to celebrate my life.”

Diana gave a strained laugh. “Papa, what a goose you are! You’re not going to die.”

He took in a shallow breath and winced.

“It’s just your ribs. Some are broken. The surgeon said so. He’ll bind you up and you’ll be good as new in no time,” she said, wishing she could believe her own words.

Her father shook his head from side to side. “No…” A tear slowly leaked from one eye and slipped down his temple into his hair that in the past year had begun to turn gray.

“Ah, well now,” the surgeon said with forced cheer, “you’re awake, I see. Good, good. We’ll get you wrapped up and patched up in no time. You’ll have to stay off that leg for a good six weeks or more, but your ribs should heal in a much shorter time.” He came up the other side of the bed and smiled down at his patient.

“Doc, I…” Lord Rivers started.

“Now, now, no talking. Just take shallow breaths to ease the pain for the moment, and then I’ll give you some laudanum to let you sleep.” The man went back to splinting Lord Rivers’ leg. Diana held his hand and tried to force herself to be as upbeat and optimistic as the doctor seemed to be.

~*~

Andrew Crowther sat back in the post chaise he’d hired to transport himself and his valet from Dover to London. The crossing from Calais had been easy enough, but sadly, Michel didn’t do well on the water. The valet had been hanging over the side rail, sick as could be, for much of their time aboard. If Andrew had known he had that problem, he could have brought some ginger tea to calm his stomach. It had just never occurred to him, being a strong-stomached traveler himself.

“What use is having a physician for an employer,” Michel had cried in his native French.

Andrew had felt bad, but there’d been nothing he could do for the fellow.

Even now, Michel still looked a little pale and gray. Andrew handed him another piece of sugared ginger.

The man took it with a nod of thanks. “It is very green, your English countryside,” he said, practicing his English.

“It is. Not so very different from France, no?”

“Perhaps. I do not much go outside the city.”

“Well, you’ll feel right at home in London, I assure you,” Andrew said, giving him a reassuring smile.

“If I survive the journey,” the man groaned, leaning his head against the side of the carriage.

“Keep your eye on the passing scenery. It will help.”

Michel nodded. “Oui, c’est vrai.”

They sat for a few minutes in silence, each watching through the window. Andrew did his best to keep his worries at bay. It had been nearly three years since he’d last seen his parents. They’d been momentous years for him—studying and learning all he could at the feet of the great French physician René Laennec. Laennec’s new discovery, which he called the stethoscope, was going to revolutionize coronary medicine, Andrew was certain of it. Already, it had saved the life of a number of patients. Andrew was excited to bring this new tool with him to London. He didn’t know if he would be the first, but he would certainly be one of the only physicians there with one.

What worried him, however, was how his parents were coping with the death of his brother in a riding incident. It was a terrible thing to think, but Andrew had been relieved to learn he’d died that way and not by a disease that Andrew might have been able to prevent. Still, now Ian was gone, it would be Andrew who would have to take over the role of heir to his father—not something he was looking forward to at all.

The one thing Andrew was absolutely certain about, however, was that no matter what his father said, he would not be giving up his medical practice. He’d worked too long and too hard to give it up now. He was still a little new, a little green in the field, but he had great ambitions—and nothing, not even an earldom, was going to convince him to give it up.

Chapter Two

We will go directly to the tailor,” Michel announced suddenly, pulling Andrew from his thoughts.

“What? To the tailor? No, of course not. I must go home and see my parents.”

“Not looking like that,” Michel said, looking Andrew up and down.

“Michel, I could be dressed in rags and I would still go to my parents first. But…” He held up his hand to stop his valet from screaming out in horror. “I am not. These clothes are perfectly fine.”

“You are not dressed the part of the heir to the count,” Michel argued.

“My father is an earl, not a count, and it doesn’t matter. I can attend to my clothes later—or you can do it for me. You have my measurements.”

Michel’s mouth opened and closed in dismay. “It is how all of your clothes have been purchased. You need to go yourself and see the fabrics. Feel them. Decide on the color.”

“I have full faith in your expert opinion. If you remember, that is why I hired you,” Andrew said.

“Oui, Docteur, but…”

“No, Michel, I will not change my habits just because I am now my father’s heir.”

“But…”

“It is not open for discussion. We will talk about it further when it becomes necessary, but for now, I simply need to see to my parents. They are grieving, Michel, they won’t care what I’m wearing.” If only he was certain what he said was completely accurate. He did not, in fact, want to see his parents, but he knew he should. That he had to do so.

Their favorite son had died, and they were left with number two, the disappointment. Oh, he didn’t feel bad about being the less favored son. In fact, it had allowed him to do exactly as he’d wanted—follow his passion and go to medical school. Poor Ian had had no choice in what he did with his life. He’d been the heir. He’d had to behave with impunity, follow their father’s dictates, and in short, be the perfect son whether he wanted to or not. No, Andrew had felt no malice toward his brother at all. Happily, Ian had seemed to enjoy his lot in life—what a shame it had ended too soon.

What pained Andrew more was the fact that he and his brother hadn’t had much of a relationship. One would think that brothers, close in age, would have been friends, companions, playmates, but he and Ian had had very little of that. Their father had seen to it that even in play, Andrew’s brother had been directed more toward his eventual role as the marquess. Andrew had mostly been left to his own devices, and now he would never have the opportunity to truly know his brother. That was what hurt more than anything.

~June 2~

“No! I said no,” Lord Rivers raised his arm and threatened to knock the glass of laudanum out of the surgeon’s hand.

“But, my lord, it’s going to be a very painful journey,” the man protested.

“I understand that…but I will not…take any more of that…vile stuff. Now…see to…the footmen…who will carry…me down…the stairs,” Rivers commanded and as forcefully as he could, given his weakened state. Just this small argument had him gasping for breath.

“Go and do as my father says,” Diana said, intervening on her father’s behalf.

“Thank you…Diana…my dear…sweet girl,” her father said. He was clearly trying to take slow shallow breaths. His ribs must be causing him a great deal of pain. Poor Papa! How he was going to survive the nearly two-hour journey back to London, she just couldn’t imagine.

“It’s all right, Papa. It’s all right. If you don’t want the laudanum, you shan’t have it,” she said, brushing a wisp of hair that always fell onto his forehead.

He breathed a little easier and closed his eyes, now satisfied his wishes would be seen to.

He didn’t open them again until he’d been conveyed down the steep stairs of the tavern and into the wagon on a stretcher. The doctor wanted him to remain flat on his back due to the breaks in his ribs and his leg. Of course, at first, the surgeon had protested vehemently at Lord Rivers being moved at all this early in his recuperation, but Diana’s father had insisted. He wanted to be at home, in his own bed, tended by his own people. Nothing anyone could say would dissuade him from this course of action.

Diana climbed up into the wagon and sat down on the hay-strewn floor, heedless of her dress. It wasn’t a particularly fine dress, just a simple blue cambric, which made it perfect for traveling. Within minutes, they were going along at a smart pace. Both she and her father, however, could feel every bump and dip in the road.

“It should get easier the closer we get to London,” Diana reassured her father. She held tightly onto his hand as they traveled over the rough roads, leaving the racecourse area.

Lord Rivers gave a short nod. He managed to open his eyes and look up at his daughter. “Diana,” he whispered through clenched teeth.

She leaned down closer to hear what he had to say.

“I tried…to tell…that idiot doctor…yesterday…but he…wouldn’t listen…” he ground out.

“What, Papa?”

“The reason…I fell…”

“Yes! I have never in my life known you to fall from a horse. At first, I’d thought you’d been shot. It was the only explanation I could find. But the doctor checked and you had no bullet wounds.”

He shook his head a bit. “Not…not a bullet… My chest…a pain…in my chest.”

“You had a pain in your chest?”

“So sharp…I couldn’t hold…on…to the…reins.”

“Oh, my goodness!”

He opened his eyes, which had closed again with the pain of the jostling road. His blue eyes, so very much like her own, looked up at her with a wisdom and determination Diana feared she would never have. “You…must marry…Diana. No…no more dawdling… looking for…the perfect man. I want… I want to see…you married…before I…die.”

“Die! Papa, don’t be ridiculous! You’re not going to die.”

Her father managed to tilt his head just a touch and raise one eyebrow. He didn’t believe her. “Promise,” he whispered.

Diana sat up and huffed out a breath.

“Diana!” Her father’s voice grew slightly stronger, but it was clearly taking him a good deal of energy to make it so.

“Fine, Papa. I will stop being quite so picky and truly look around for a husband if it will make you happy. But no more talk of dying!”

He gave her a small smile, which lingered on his lips until the wagon hit another rut in the road.

This was going to be a very long, very painful journey.

It felt like ten hours later, but finally they reached their townhouse. The two Rivers footmen each took an end of the stretcher and carried their master up to his bedchamber. As they did so, Diana was waylaid by a man in a slightly threadbare gray coat.

“I beg your pardon, but are you Miss Rivers?” the man asked. He carried a leather medical bag in his right hand.

“Yes,” Diana said, stopping her ascent up the three steps into her home.

“I am Mr. Wheat, Lord Audley sent me. I’m the surgeon.”

“Oh! Yes, of course. Thank you so much for meeting us, Mr. Wheat. Please come in.”

“Thank you.” He followed Diana into the house. “I just want to check on your father and see if there’s anything else I can do for him. I understand he’s already been seen by a surgeon?”

“Yes, but I wanted another opinion. Thank you so much for coming. Please, this way.” She led him up the stairs to her father’s bedchamber. Susan, the chambermaid, came out of the room just as they reached the top of the stairs.

“Oh, Miss Rivers. If you would just give your father a moment before you go into see him. Mark and Harry are just getting him changed and into bed.”

“Of course,” Diana said. She and the doctor stood out in the hall for the few minutes until the footmen came out to inform them that Lord Rivers was ready.

The doctor made quick work of examining what the other surgeon had done. He rewrapped his leg in its bindings, which would keep it steady while the bone healed, but other than that, he declared the man had done a fine job.

“There is one thing, Mr. Wheat,” Diana said, stepping forward as he was putting his things back into his medical bag. “My father said the reason he fell from his horse was because of a sharp pain in his chest. Might you be able to do something… know, perhaps, a reason for this?”

The doctor stopped and looked back at his patient, who was resting as well as possible. His chest rose and fell quickly with his short breaths.

“I would recommend a physician see him. I’m afraid I am a surgeon. Broken bones and wounds I can manage. Chest pains?” The man scratched his head. “They’re out of my purview. I’m sorry.”

“Do you know of a good physician?” Diana asked.

“Dr. Beaumont is quite popular. He’ll be able to come and cup Lord Rivers. Bleed out any bad humors that might be lurking.”

“Bleed?” Diana shook her head vigorously. “Oh, no. I don’t want him bled. I’m sure that wouldn’t be the right treatment.”

The man smiled down at her condescendingly. “And what would you know of chest pains and medicine, Miss Hemshawe?”

Diana opened her mouth for a moment, wishing she could say something clever, but unfortunately, he was absolutely correct. She knew nothing. Perhaps bleeding would be the best thing for her father, but she wanted to explore all the possibilities before committing to the first treatment at hand. “Thank you for your advice, sir. I will speak with my cousin, Lord Audley, and decide on our next step.”

The man gave a nod and headed out the door.

“Don’t… Don’t let…them…bleed me. Hate those bloody leeches,” her father whispered from the bed.

Diana rushed over and took hold of his hand that had been resting on his chest. “I promise, Papa, I won’t.”

~*~

“Well, it’s about time!” Lord Darby said, coming out of his study at the commotion being caused by Andrew’s arrival.

Andrew stopped short just inside the door. His father looked as if he’d aged twenty years. Lines crossed his forehead and radiated from his eyes. His face was still strong, however, his eyes still piercing in their disapproval, and his hair was still the same pale blond as Andrew’s own. “Father.” Andrew bowed before coming forward. “Please accept my most sincere condolences.”

His father’s mouth pinched together, but he gave his second son a quick nod of acknowledgement. “What took you so long to get here?” the earl asked, turning and leading the way into his study.

“Er, nothing, sir. I came as quickly as I could, as soon as I received your letter.” Andrew was a touch confused. “I resigned my position, packed all my belongings—”

“Why the hell didn’t you leave that to your man? You could have come right away and left him to deal with all that.” He waved his hand in the air. “Nonsense,” he finished, “you were needed here.”

“What was the emergency? When I received your letter, it said you’d already had the funeral.” He paused when his father winced. “I’ll travel to Darby as soon as I can to pay my respects.”

“Don’t bother,” his father growled. “Your…your mother…” He turned and looked out the window. “She’s not been well.” He spun around to face Andrew, pointing an accusing finger at him. “I paid a small ransom to that medical school, and you dawdle, taking your sweet time to come here when she is in desperate need of a physician.”

“What? Why didn’t you say so in your letter? Why hasn’t she been seen by someone already here?” Andrew exclaimed. “Where is she? Is she still unwell?”

“Of course she’s still unwell! You think these things just go away on their own?” his father bellowed.

Andrew took a step backward, his spine straightening. “I will go and see her, then. Excuse me.” He spun on his heel and left the room.

Patience, he reminded himself. He would need all the patience in the world in order to deal with his father. He’d never been an easy man, but now—grieving and obviously upset about his wife’s health—he would be even more trying.

Taking the stairs two at a time, he went to his own room, where his luggage had been taken, to find his medical bag before going to his mother. His knock on her door was answered by her maid.

She curtsied briefly as she let him into the room. “Lord Colburne, my lady,” she said, announcing him.

Andrew nearly stopped her—Colburne was his brother—but no, now it was him, he supposed, assuming his father would transfer his lesser title from one son to the other. With the greeting his father had just given him, Andrew wasn’t sure this was a certainty. He set these thoughts aside to focus on his mother and her health.

“Andrew,” his mother said on a sigh. Her voice sounded weak and breathless.

He drew up to her bedside and lifted his lips into a smile. “Mother. How are you feeling?” Like his father, she too had aged more severely than she should have. Her skin hung from her cheeks, softened with age, and her green eyes, always so full of life and vigor, had dulled. Andrew felt for his parents. Clearly, their grief was taking a toll on them both.

She gave a weak cough as she shook her head. Her hair was in a long braid resting over her shoulder. It had been a mix of light brown and blonde when Andrew had left for France, but now there was more silver than anything else. “Well enough, considering…”

“It doesn’t sound that way to me.” He set down his medical bag at the end of her bed. “May I have a listen?” he said, opening it and reaching for his new stethoscope.

She held up her hand. “It’s nothing, Andrew… I’ll be fine.”

He stopped. “Please?”

She shook her head. “No. It’s simply… simply the shock. That’s all.”

She seemed to be having problems breathing. He didn’t like this. “If you allow me to listen, perhaps I can prescribe something to make you feel better more quickly.”

“I said no,” she repeated more forcefully this time. She fell into a fit of coughing.

Andrew rushed to her side and helped her to sit up so she could breathe more easily.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

He gently propped her onto her pillows. “Father is insisting—” he began, hoping he could convince her to allow him to see to her health.

“Your father is making…a big deal of nothing…. He is overthinking everything now…seeing illnesses where there are none,” she managed. It was the longest speech she’d said since he’d come in.

“But Ian didn’t die of an illness—at least, not according to the letter Father sent me. He said that he’d fallen off his horse while hunting,” Andrew pointed out.

Lady Darby lifted a shoulder. “Still…”

“Please, Mother,” Andrew made a move toward his medical bag once more.

“If you dare take anything from that bag… It had best not be for me,” she said, her voice hardening ever so slightly. Well, at least she was beginning to sound like the mother he knew.

He sighed and closed his bag again. “Very well. I can’t force you to allow me to examine you.”

“No, you cannot…and you will not do so.” She winced as she coughed violently before glaring at him. “How was your journey?” she asked.

“It was fine, thank you.”

“And Paris?”

He gave her a little smile. “Lovely, as it always is in the spring.”

“From your letters, I wouldn’t think…” She paused to cough again into her handkerchief. “…you’d seen much of it,” she finished.

He gave a little chuckle. “Well, I have been spending long hours in the hospital tending to patients, but happily, we had to travel to some patients. That meant going outside, so I did get a chance to get some fresh air every so often.”

She gave an understanding nod.

“For how long have you been unwell?” he asked, thinking that at least he could get a feel for what might be ailing her, despite not being allowed to examine her.

“Since Ian… Since we got the news,” she said softly, her eyes filling with tears, “I wasn’t… I wasn’t able to attend…”

“Well, perhaps that was for the best,” he said.

She gave a little nod and wiped at the corners of her eyes. “That’s what your father said.”

“So that was over a month ago.”

“I suppose so.”

“And you’re having problems breathing?” he asked.

“Have you eaten?” she countered, clearly catching on to his line of questioning.

“Er…” He had to think of whether he’d eaten or not. He had a tendency to forget to do so.

“Why don’t you go downstairs. I’m sure the cook…has some cherry tarts,” she finished after a brief cough. “I think I’d like to rest.”

She was looking terribly pale and worn out—even more so than when he’d come in.

“Of course. An excellent idea. I’ll go do that.” He came over and placed a kiss on her forehead. She wasn’t feverish, he was happy to discover. “I’ll be by later to check on you and perhaps then you’ll—”

“No,” she interrupted him, “I won’t.”

Chapter Three

~June 4~

Diana was sitting with her father as he attempted to eat a little breakfast when there was a knock on his door.

“I beg your pardon,” Mark, the footman said, holding a salver out in front of him.

“If that’s today’s mail, please put it on my father’s desk in his study,” Diana said, beginning to turn back toward her father.

“Now, Diana—”

“No, Papa, you are not going to be bothered by business for at least the next week or so. If there is anything of urgency… Well, it can just wait until you’ve had a chance to see a physician and get some much-needed rest.”

“It’s a note for you, Miss,” Mark interrupted. “I would have waited to give it to you, only there’s a man downstairs waiting for a reply.”

“Oh!” Diana stood up and took the note.

“What is it?” her father asked. His breathlessness was a little better now that his ribs were properly bound, but he still kept his sentences short, Diana noticed.

“It’s from Lady Norman. She needs to know if I’ll be able to come a little early to the Ladies’ Wagering Whist Society meeting today.” She started to refold the note. “Well, this is fortuitous. It gives me the opportunity to inform her I won’t be attending at all.”

“What? Why not?” Lord River’s asked.

She turned back toward him. “I’m not going to leave you alone all afternoon while I go and play cards. Don’t be ridiculous!” She gave a little laugh.

“I’m not. And, yes you are,” he answered.

“No, Papa. I couldn’t possibly—”

“Maybe they’ll know of a physician,” he said.

That stopped her, though. “I was going to ask Audley, but that’s not a bad idea. There are a number of older ladies who are part of the group. I’m sure they know the best physicians in London.”

Her father just nodded, perhaps still too winded to speak further.

“All right. I’ll go see Audley this afternoon, and then go to my Society meeting but just for a short time.” She wagged a finger at him, adding, “You need to eat some more. I’ll respond to Lady Norman’s note while you do so. I want to see at least half that plate empty when I return.”

He gave a little chuckle but said, “I wish I had the appetite you demand.” She shook her head before going off to write her note.

~*~

At two that afternoon, Diana set out for her cousin’s home. She hoped he’d be up by now. With a fellow like Audley, you never knew.

Indeed, she found him eating something that looked suspiciously like breakfast.

“Good afternoon, Audley,” Diana said, coming into the dining room unannounced.

Her cousin looked up from his plate, his knife and fork momentarily stilled. His dark, brown hair was carefully tussled—or not so carefully, Diana couldn’t tell. He was wearing a very sharp-looking cream banyan with a brown design all over it. The plate in front of him held a substantial repast of eggs, steak, toast, and a scattering of something that might have once been a vegetable.

“Good afternoon. Were there no footmen at the door?” he asked, looking behind her.

“There was. I told him I’d announce myself. Do you mind? I didn’t think we stood on ceremony,” she said, pulling out the chair opposite him.

“No, we don’t, it’s just Mama who likes everything to be just so.”

“Oh, well, Aunt Audley will forgive me, I’m sure.”

“Yes, I suppose. Just don’t mention it to her should you see her, all right?”

“Of course. I actually only have a moment to stop, so it’s unlikely we’ll meet.” Diana paused and then said thoughtfully, “She doesn’t like me very much, does she?”

Audley removed the fork from his mouth and sat back as he chewed. Once he’d swallowed, he shook his head, “It’s not that she doesn’t like you, it’s just that she’s so busy with my sisters—”

“Oh, I wasn’t complaining about the fact she won’t chaperone me. I don’t mind that at all. It was just an off-hand comment. Forget I made it.”

Audley gave an easy-going shrug and put more food into his mouth.

“What I actually came to ask was whether you knew of a physician who could come to see my father,” Diana said.

Her cousin frowned. “What was wrong with the surgeon I sent?”

“Nothing! He seemed to be a very competent man, but he said Papa needs to be seen by a physician. There might be something more wrong with him than just some broken bones,” she added more quietly.

“What?”

“I don’t know, which is why we need the physician.”

“Oh, yes, of course.” Her cousin speared another piece of meat from his plate. “Sadly, I don’t know of any.”

“None at all?”

He shook his head, since his mouth was full.

“Harrumph.” Diana sat back and crossed her arms in front of her. “I suppose I will have to ask the ladies of my Wagering Whist Society. I was hoping you would know of someone, but I’m sure one of them will be able to help me.”

“Fine idea,” he agreed.

She gave him a little smile. “Well, then, I won’t disturb your meal any more than I already have—not that you’ve stopped eating for even a moment…”

“I’m hungry!” her cousin protested.

“It’s fine. Not very polite, but fine,” she said with a little laugh as she stood. “I’ll be off, then, to the ladies.”

He gave her a nod, but didn’t even make a pretense of standing to say goodbye.

~*~

Many of the ladies were already assembled by the time Diana reached Lady Norman’s home.

“Good afternoon, Miss Hemshawe,” Lady Norman said, greeting Diana as she came into the drawing room.

Diana paused to curtsy to the assembled ladies. “Good afternoon.” She accepted the cup of tea her hostess poured for her and then sat next to Lady Sorrell. “Is there a reason why we’re meeting earlier than usual today?” she asked quietly.

“Yes, but no one but Lady Norman knows what it is, and she hasn’t shared yet. Once everyone gets here, I think all will be made clear.”

Just at that moment, Lady Blakemore and Mrs. Aldridge with her little dog, Duchess, came in.

“Good afternoon, good afternoon!” Mrs. Aldridge cried happily. She set her dog down on the floor, since Lady Norman had asked her not to allow the dog onto the furniture. Immediately, Duchess’s little black nose was sniffing the pastries sitting on a plate on a low table in front of the sofa.