Pride in Regency Society: Wicked Captain, Wayward Wife / The Earl's Runaway Bride. Sarah Mallory
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finished it’s rarely been the lady’s choice to end it.’
‘Aye, but Miss Shawcross is different.’ He pushed himself out of the chair and stretched. ‘Look out my nightgown, if you please, Richard. It must be well after midnight by now and time I—’ He broke off, frowning. ‘Now what the devil is the matter?’
From the corridor outside his room came the sound of urgent whispers and hurrying footsteps. Nick strode over to the door and flung it open. Sir Benjamin’s valet was making his way along the passage and by the glow of the lamp he was holding aloft Nick observed that his coat was unbuttoned and his hair tousled, as if he had been roused untimely from his bed. Nick stepped out into his path.
‘Well, Rooney, what’s amiss?’ he demanded.
‘It’s the master sir. He’s had one of his turns.’
‘Can I be of help—can Granby ride for a doctor?’
‘Thank you, Captain, but no. I’ve already despatched a groom to fetch Dr Scott. If you will excuse me, sir, I must get back to Sir Benjamin. Miss Eve is with him, but I do not like to be away for too long.’
‘Of course.’ Nick stepped aside and, after watching the valet hurry out of sight, went back into his room.
‘Is it the old gentleman sir?’ asked Granby. ‘I heard he was very down pin.’
‘Yes, he is. Go along and see if there is anything we can do, Richard. Sir Benjamin’s man is reluctant to trouble me, but he may be more forthcoming to you.’
Having despatched his man, Nick found himself alone. Silence settled around him but it did nothing to relieve his anxiety. He was a guest in the house, but it was unthinkable that he would sleep while Eve was sitting up with her grandfather. He snatched up his coat. There must be something he could do.
When Eve left Sir Benjamin’s room her eyes were gritty with lack of sleep. She held aloft a bedroom candlestick to light her way through the dark passages and down the stairs. The arch leading to the great hall glowed with a welcoming light and as she moved forwards she could see that the fire had been built up and several candles burned brightly in the wall sconces. Nick Wylder was bending over the fire, stirring a large black pan that seemed to be balanced precariously amongst the flames. He straightened and turned as he heard her approaching footsteps.
‘I was told that you were here, Captain.’ She nodded towards the fireplace. ‘I doubt anyone has cooked upon that fire for generations.’
‘Punch,’ he said, smiling. ‘Nothing like it for restoring the spirits in the middle of the night.’
‘I am sorry if we woke you.’
‘No need, I was not asleep.’ He reached out for her hand and led her to the settle on one side of the hearth. ‘How is Sir Benjamin?’
‘Quieter now. Grandfather panics when an attack comes on and he cannot get his breath, but Dr Scott always calms him.’
She sat for a moment, staring into the flames.
‘I hope you do not mind, I built up the fire. It is summer, I know, but somehow a good blaze always seems more comforting at times like these.’
‘It does, thank you, but you should not have had to do that.’
He waved his hand dismissively.
‘Your servants are busy with their master. I would not add to their load.’ He turned back to the cooking pot and ladled some of its contents into a cup. ‘Here, try this.’
She curled her fingers around the warm cup. She had not realised how cold she had become. A sweet, pungent aroma rose from the liquid and her eyes widened.
‘Rum.’ Nick grinned. ‘Try it.’
Cautiously she took a sip. It was warm and sweet with a fiery bite that made her cough, but it was strangely comforting. Nick was watching her and she managed a small smile.
‘Thank you. That is just what I need. Perhaps we should offer some to Dr Scott before he leaves.’
‘Of course. Are these attacks a regular occurrence?’
‘They have been more frequent in recent months.’
‘I did not realise Sir Benjamin was so ill.’
‘He hides it well. He does not like people to fuss over him.’ She read the question in his eyes and her gaze dropped to the cup clutched between her hands. ‘The attacks weaken his heart. The doctor says we must be prepared…’ She did not trust her voice to continue so she sipped at the punch. When she looked up again Nick was watching her, such kind concern in his face that she found herself smiling at him. ‘Perhaps now you understand why Grandpapa is so eager to see me settled,’ she said, handing him back the empty cup. ‘He worries so about what is to become of me when he is gone.’
He sat down beside her on the settle. ‘Then at least I can relieve his mind on that account, and perhaps on another.’ He reached for her hands. ‘When we are married we need not remove to Yorkshire immediately. I think you would prefer to remain near your grandfather.’
His words allayed her barely acknowledged anxiety. She fixed her eyes on his face.
‘Truly, you would not mind if we lived here for a little while?’
‘Truly. I have an excellent steward who has managed my affairs for a good many years; he will cope for a little while longer.’
‘Thank you.’ Her relief and gratitude were palpable. Without thinking she leaned towards him and he enfolded her in his arms. It is, she thought, nestling her head contentedly against his shoulder, like coming home after a long and tiring journey.
Nick rested his cheek against her hair, breathing in the sweet, flowery fragrance. She felt so fragile, so delicate within his arms that he was afraid to hold her too tightly lest she should fracture. His heart ached. He wanted not only to possess this dainty creature but to protect her. It was an unfamiliar feeling, and not altogether comfortable.
They remained locked together in companionable silence for several minutes while the long case clock ticked steadily and logs crackled in the fireplace. He wondered if now was the time to talk to her, to take her into his confidence. He held his peace. It was government business, not his to share. She was so fragile that he did not want to add more worries to her slender shoulders. Besides, in a few more weeks it would all be settled.
‘Dearly beloved, we are gathered here…’
The little church at Makerham was packed. Evelina stood, eyes modestly lowered, and wondered how she had come to this. A month ago there had been no thought of marriage in her head, then Nick Wylder had ridden into her life and changed it for ever. A month ago she had not known of his existence; now she could not imagine life without him.
With the exception of a few days when he had been obliged to go to town on business, Nick had been her constant companion at Makerham Court. They rode through sun-dappled lanes, walked in the gardens and in the evenings they played cards with Sir Benjamin, or Eve would sit in the corner with her embroidery while the two men talked or played backgammon together. Nick’s energetic presence filled the house. Eve woke every morning with a little thrill of anticipation, knowing he would be waiting for her. They talked for hours, although she had little recollection of what they talked about. Occasionally they would argue, and it would end with Nick pulling her into his arms and kissing her. She had never known such happiness. It was especially gratifying to see her grandfather’s approval of her future husband and not even the business of the marriage contract upset this happy state of affairs; Sir Benjamin talked to Eve with smug satisfaction about jointures and settlements and Eve did not press him for details: it was enough for her that he was happy.
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