Miss Transome—her ladyship, that is—must prepare herself for his demise at any moment. The doctor had left instructions for the medication to be doubled in dosage, but Mr. Transome had refused to take more than his usual amount before speaking first with his lordship and her ladyship. The doctor finally bowed himself out.
The earl, for good reason, felt no great affection for his father-in-law. Nevertheless, he looked in anger at his wife’s back. She had not once turned from the fire while the physician was in the room.
“I shall wait upon your father now, my lady,” he said. “You may stay here until I come down. I shall not be long.”
She said nothing.
The difference in the appearance of his father-in-law was appalling. The earl realized in a flash just what superhuman effort of will had brought the man to Grosvenor Square on two separate occasions the week before and to his daughter’s wedding just the day before. Now he was very obviously a man close to death. And yet he managed the ghost of a smile when the earl came to stand beside his bed.
“Ah, my lord,” he said in a voice that was little above a whisper, “you will excuse me for not rising to make my bow.”
“How are you, sir?” the earl asked, feeling all the foolishness of his words.
“I have felt better,” Mr. Transome said, and even attempted a chuckle. “So what do you have to tell me?”
“Your daughter is my wife and my countess in every sense,” the earl said.
“Ah.” Mr. Transome closed his eyes. “I wish I could see my first grandchild, my lord. But I must not be greedy.”
The earl looked down at him, his hands clasped behind his back.
“Where is Ellie?” Mr. Transome asked.
“Downstairs,” the earl said, “and impatient to be with you, sir. But I thought you might wish to have a private word with me first.”
“There is a small parcel and a letter in the top drawer of the bureau,” Mr. Transome said. “Fetch them. And here am I giving orders to you, my lord. You must forgive me. You are my son now, after all.”
The earl found the two items with ease. The top drawer of the bureau was empty except for them. He brought them back to the bed and showed them to the man lying there.
“A Christmas present for Ellie,” Mr. Transome said with the hint of a smile. “I had it made on the chance that I would live that long and yet be too ill to go shopping. I could give it to her now and watch her face when she saw it, but it is better kept for Christmas. Give it to her, my lord. And the letter to explain a few things.”
“It will be done,” the earl said.
“Ah.” Mr. Transome closed his eyes again. “I shall be saying good-bye then, my boy. Forgive me for the trick I played on you. Eventually you will thank me, I believe, but for now forgive me. She is all that has made my life worth living since her dear mother passed on.”
“She is in safe hands,” the earl said, feeling a twinge of guilt at the lie, his mind filling unwillingly with memories of the night before. “On that point you may rest assured. Good-bye, sir.”
He let himself out of the room and stood still outside the door for a moment before descending to the parlor. And yes, he thought, he almost could forgive the man. He had made arrangements for his daughter’s future security in the only way he knew how—by using his money to buy what he wanted. And who could blame him?
The only pity was that all the love and work and scheming had been expended on such an unworthy object. The earl gritted his teeth and turned toward the staircase.
S HE STOOD STARING INTO the fire. He was dying. She had known that. She might expect his demise at any time, the doctor had said. She had known that too. But all the horrible reality of it had come home to her when the horses’ hooves and the carriage wheels had suddenly become muffled and when she had stepped down from the carriage onto straw and looked up to see the knocker wrapped with cloth. It had
The earl, for good reason, felt no great affection for his father-in-law. Nevertheless, he looked in anger at his wife’s back. She had not once turned from the fire while the physician was in the room.
“I shall wait upon your father now, my lady,” he said. “You may stay here until I come down. I shall not be long.”
She said nothing.
The difference in the appearance of his father-in-law was appalling. The earl realized in a flash just what superhuman effort of will had brought the man to Grosvenor Square on two separate occasions the week before and to his daughter’s wedding just the day before. Now he was very obviously a man close to death. And yet he managed the ghost of a smile when the earl came to stand beside his bed.
“Ah, my lord,” he said in a voice that was little above a whisper, “you will excuse me for not rising to make my bow.”
“How are you, sir?” the earl asked, feeling all the foolishness of his words.
“I have felt better,” Mr. Transome said, and even attempted a chuckle. “So what do you have to tell me?”
“Your daughter is my wife and my countess in every sense,” the earl said.
“Ah.” Mr. Transome closed his eyes. “I wish I could see my first grandchild, my lord. But I must not be greedy.”
The earl looked down at him, his hands clasped behind his back.
“Where is Ellie?” Mr. Transome asked.
“Downstairs,” the earl said, “and impatient to be with you, sir. But I thought you might wish to have a private word with me first.”
“There is a small parcel and a letter in the top drawer of the bureau,” Mr. Transome said. “Fetch them. And here am I giving orders to you, my lord. You must forgive me. You are my son now, after all.”
The earl found the two items with ease. The top drawer of the bureau was empty except for them. He brought them back to the bed and showed them to the man lying there.
“A Christmas present for Ellie,” Mr. Transome said with the hint of a smile. “I had it made on the chance that I would live that long and yet be too ill to go shopping. I could give it to her now and watch her face when she saw it, but it is better kept for Christmas. Give it to her, my lord. And the letter to explain a few things.”
“It will be done,” the earl said.
“Ah.” Mr. Transome closed his eyes again. “I shall be saying good-bye then, my boy. Forgive me for the trick I played on you. Eventually you will thank me, I believe, but for now forgive me. She is all that has made my life worth living since her dear mother passed on.”
“She is in safe hands,” the earl said, feeling a twinge of guilt at the lie, his mind filling unwillingly with memories of the night before. “On that point you may rest assured. Good-bye, sir.”
He let himself out of the room and stood still outside the door for a moment before descending to the parlor. And yes, he thought, he almost could forgive the man. He had made arrangements for his daughter’s future security in the only way he knew how—by using his money to buy what he wanted. And who could blame him?
The only pity was that all the love and work and scheming had been expended on such an unworthy object. The earl gritted his teeth and turned toward the staircase.
S HE STOOD STARING INTO the fire. He was dying. She had known that. She might expect his demise at any time, the doctor had said. She had known that too. But all the horrible reality of it had come home to her when the horses’ hooves and the carriage wheels had suddenly become muffled and when she had stepped down from the carriage onto straw and looked up to see the knocker wrapped with cloth. It had
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