Page 35 of A Lord in Want of a Wife (Daring Debutantes #2)

C edric opened his eyes to sunny weather three days later.

The birds were chirping as this neighbourhood was too nice to have too many hawkers about at first light.

A maid had already been in to open the window to let in a fresh breeze, and Cedric relished the scent of England in spring, even if it was London and not the countryside.

As he’d slept, he’d hoped to hear Lucy come in. She hadn’t. And a quick glance about the room showed him a ginger-haired footman named Scottie.

‘How is Lucy?’ he asked as he had every time he’d woken.

‘Miss Richards is still sleeping.’

Was there a bit of censure in his tone? As if he didn’t like Cedric referring to Lucy by her given name.

Well, he wasn’t. Lu-Jing was the girl’s given name.

Lucy was what he called her now, and the lovesick footman could bloody well accept it.

Yes, that was the primary thing he’d noticed about the boy. He seemed completely lovesick for Lucy.

‘She was here in the middle of the night,’ the man continued. ‘Checked in on you and we chatted for a moment.’

Ah. He’d thought that was a dream. ‘You slept here last night?’

‘Right on the floor beside you. I promised Miss Richards I wouldn’t leave your side, and I didn’t.’ Oh, such pride in the boy’s tone.

‘Scottie,’ Cedric said as the boy helped him sit up. ‘Tonight, you will sleep in your own bed.’

‘I’ll let Miss Richards decide that,’ was his response. ‘And now, it’s time to choke down—’

‘The tea.’ He held out his hands and was pleased to see they didn’t shake. And when he received a half-full cup, he took a tentative sniff. Not as bad as yesterday.

‘No honey?’ Cedric asked.

‘Not in the tea, my lord.’

Of course not. He did as he was bid, choking down the stuff as if it tasted palatable. It did not. But then, he needed the liquid, so he did not argue when Scottie poured him another half cup.

‘I’ve got toast for you this morning,’ he said. ‘With a thin bit of jam. You’ll love it.’

He likely would. Even a thin covering of jam was more than he’d had in months.

‘What I’d love more, Scottie,’ he said as set down his teacup, ‘is information. What have I missed?’

‘Missed? Shall I get you a newspaper?’

‘That would be excellent.’ Assuming he could stay awake to read it. ‘But I mean about, um, my family. I haven’t seen Declan since I got here.’ Or had he? He’d been unconscious so much of the time, it was hard to know.

‘His Grace has gone north. It’s spring planting and with the duchess feeling so poorly, he agreed to do the visit alone.’

Cedric straightened as much as he could manage. ‘Does Declan leave her alone often?’ Their marriage was still young. Had it had grown cold already?

The boy snorted. ‘The Duke dotes on his wife. So much so that some people say it’s unnatural.

And the cook, Mrs. Timley, was beside herself.

Bad enough that Her Grace couldn’t keep any food down, but the moment she got sick, the Duke was put off his own food, as well.

The two of them were wearing each other out, and Mrs. Timley couldn’t help but cook everything all the time just in the hopes that one of them would eat. ’

‘What? Why wasn’t the duchess eating?’

‘Oh! Well, that’s because she’s in a family way, my lord. Feeling poorly because of it. But she’s getting better now. Miss Phoebe has a right talent for herbs.’

‘Grace is pregnant,’ he said, startled to feel no rancor at that. Two years ago, he had believed Declan had stolen her away from him. But he now realised it had been his pride that was hurt by her defection. And his bank account. ‘Is she happy?’

‘Happy, my lord? She’s smiling all the time when she’s not getting sick.

She looks right eerie sometimes, the way she’s pleased.

And the smells don’t bother her anymore so Mrs. Timley says the babe will grow proper now that she’s eating.

And the Duke will be back by Monday, what with the government in session. ’

Ah. Good. He’d get a chance to talk plainly with his cousin soon. ‘So Grace is happy and Declan’s returning on Monday. Good.’ And wasn’t that a surprise? He looked forward to seeing Declan when he’d spent most of his life dreaming of punching his cousin in the face.

‘And what of Lucy?’ he asked, trying to be casual. ‘I assume she’ll return to her father’s home soon. Still, you must know how she’s faring. Is there a suitor?’

‘Her father, my lord?’ There was a stiffness to the man’s face that made Cedric focus more sharply. He’d been doing his best to be casual, but now he frowned.

‘Yes. How is Miss Richards’s father?’

‘Thank you, Scottie,’ interrupted a voice—her voice. ‘I believe I shall help his lordship finish his breakfast.’

The footman had just settled into a chair by the bed to help Cedric, but he leapt up like a frog the moment he heard Lucy’s voice.

‘M-miss Richards! I didn’t realise you were… I mean, I thought you were—’

‘Scottie, would you please get me some toast as well? I see the honey pot is here. That’s wonderful.’

‘And tea, Miss Richards. I’ll get you a fresh pot—’

‘Oh, I suppose. Phoebe has declared that I’m to drink something special, as well. Bring up whatever she says.’

‘Yes, Miss Richards. Right away, miss.’ He gave her a quick bow and all but clicked his heels together before dashing out the door. Cedric stared after the man, feeling unaccountably annoyed with the boy.

‘Was he escaping my question,’ he asked. ‘Or trying to please you?’

‘Both, I assume,’ she said as she settled into the chair beside him. ‘How are you feeling?’

‘How is your father?’

‘His cough overcame him nearly a year ago.’ Her voice was soft and composed, and Cedric’s stomach sank as much from her expression as her words.

‘A year?’ he whispered. Her father had passed a year ago and he hadn’t known.

‘His cough got worse after the wedding. I thought that summer would help but…’ She shook her head.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I had hoped…’ He thought back over everything he’d done in the last year.

‘Everywhere we stopped,’ he murmured. ‘Every port, I looked for medicines and a way to send it back.’ It was where much of his money had gone.

It was why his investors made money, but not him.

Because he spent his portion. But her father hadn’t received any of them.

‘Too late.’ It was a statement, not a question.

‘It was kind of you.’

‘It was useless.’ He closed his eyes, but his fingers reached for her hand and squeezed. ‘I’m so sorry. I know how much you loved him.’

‘Thank you.’

‘I should have been here. I would have gone to the services with you. I would have…’ He shook his head. ‘No. I would have just made things worse. We always fight. You needed comfort, not…’ Him. She wouldn’t have wanted him there.

‘We always fight?’ she asked.

He opened his eyes. ‘Don’t we?’

She didn’t answer at first. Instead, her eyes grew pensive, and then she shrugged. ‘Sounds like you’re fighting with yourself. I’ve barely said a word.’

He stared at her, his mind hopping around in confusion. Was she chastising him? Accusing him? Or just stating a fact? He didn’t know, and all his guesses were turning his brain to mush.

‘Lucy…’ He said softly.

‘I gave those medicines—the seeds and the formulas—to Phoebe. She has an interest in these things.’

Phoebe? The blonde?

‘She is working with a doctor.’ Her expression softened. ‘That tea may have saved your life.’

He frowned as he looked at her. ‘I meant them for your father.’

‘And they may save many lives here in England.’

He hoped so. He certainly couldn’t argue that he felt better today than he had in a long time. And yet he didn’t really care about the medicine. He wanted to know how she fared. ‘Have you met someone, Lucy? Do you have an understanding with anyone?’

She frowned, her mouth opening in surprise. She might have said something then, but her words were cut off when Scottie reappeared. He was carrying a tea tray and a beaming expression, as if doing his job was a thrilling accomplishment.

‘Thank you, Scottie,’ she said calmly. ‘You can wait outside now until his lordship requires more help.’

Spoken like a British lady when dismissing a servant. She had perfect intonation, perfect delivery. She’d grown so much from the skittish girl he’d first met. And in that vein, he found his voice, speaking like the self-important peer he’d once been.

‘I’ll need a shave, Scottie. Do find what I need and come back in a half hour. I trust that you can keep your hand steady or that you will find someone else.’

‘Er, yes, my lord. Right away, my lord.’

‘Good man,’ he lied. He actually thought Scottie was a young puppy with too much lustful imagination. But that was because Cedric was an old man with a lustful imagination. ‘Shut the door as you leave.’

‘No, Scottie,’ Lucy interrupted. ‘Leave it ajar. But you may go find what you need.’

‘Yes, my lady,’ the man said with a quick bow.

‘Miss Richards,’ Cedric corrected. Lucy wasn’t a lady, not officially.

She had no title, so her proper address would be Miss Richards.

But it wasn’t Cedric’s place to correct the boy.

Especially since Cedric didn’t have the right to call her by her given name either.

There was no formal engagement between them.

So if he took liberties with her name, then why couldn’t the staff as well?

The servants followed the master, didn’t they? And he was being an ass.

He saw Lucy’s arch look at him. She knew everything he was thinking.

It didn’t help that the boy coloured red up to his ears and bowed himself out while leaving the door wide open.

Cedric ran a hand over his face, feeling the rough skin, the patchy scratch of his beard and the sharp jut of his bones.

A scarecrow probably looked better than he did.

And why the hell was he wasting his time with Lucy? Medicines and overeager servants weren’t important.