Read Online Heartbreak and Honor by Collette Cameron - Free Book Online
Authors: Collette Cameron
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carved panel swung open almost as though someone waited on the other side.
Genny glided to the immense bed straightaway and after kissing their mother’s cheek, straightened the already tidy bedclothes.
Always a fusser, Gen needed something to do with her hands. She’d knitted enough blankets to keep the children of The Foundling Hospital he sponsored in bedding for a good while.
“Welcome home, Your Grace.” Mrs. Wells dipped into an arthritic curtsy, a grimace tightening the abigail’s mouth when she bent.
He’d bet his forgone bath his mother’s lady’s maid had hovered near the door waiting for his knock.
“Thank you, Wells. No need to curtsy as I’ve told you many times before.” Grasping her elbow, he helped her upright. “After all, you used to catch me hiding in the wardrobes and beneath the beds.”
Before I locked myself in that infernal trunk, that is.
“Don’t forget behind the curtains where you snuck bonbons and biscuits.” She chuckled, her cheeks balling like miniature twin plum puddings, and pointed a plump finger at him. “You were quite the little rapscallion.”
Lucan had always possessed a particular fondness for sweets.
He sought his mother and nodded toward the bed. “How is she?”
“Resting comfortably, but she’s excited you’re home.” Mrs. Wells motioned him onward, murmuring out the side of her mouth, “Try to keep her calm.”
“Lucan, darling?” His mother, a pale form in a swath of rose, cream, and lace, attempted to rise.
“No, Mama. You mustn’t exert yourself.” Genny stilled their mother with a hand to her shoulder. “Wells and I shall prop you with pillows if you wish to sit up.”
“Indeed, we shall.” Like a protective mother hen, Wells charged to the bedside, tsking and clucking the whole while. “You let us assist you, Your Grace.” She wedged a pair of pillows behind his mother. “Remember what the doctor said.”
“Pshaw, that old windbag. Doesn’t know what he’s talking about.” Her voice thin and reedy, Mother gave a weak wave of her hand. Only a few strands of silver tinted the lank flaxen hair hanging about her shoulder and splayed across the light pink satin pillow. “With his dire predictions, he’d have me selecting my funeral gown. How’s a patient supposed to recover with such a gloomy bat scowling at them?”
“Nonetheless, you must do as Doctor Philpott says.” Genny offered a tense smile and moved aside when Lucan reached the bed. She fidgeted about the room, straightening this and that while casting them furtive looks. She turned to Wells. “Would you please check on Mama’s dinner? Her tray should have been brought by now. Oh, and send a maid to the nursery to ask Nurse how the girls are. It’s almost Sarah’s feeding time.”
The lady’s maid nodded as she waddled to the door. “Yes, I want to make sure Cook prepared the liver the way I requested.”
“Liver. Phah.” Mother pulled a face and gave a dainty shudder. “Why should an invalid be forced to eat liver?”
Wells paused at the entrance. “Because the doctor advised you to. To strengthen your heart.”
“He also wanted to bleed me, to draw out my ill humors. I cannot think that’s too beneficial to my heart.” Mother closed her eyes, her fair lashes dark against her cheeks’ pallor. “A warm, creamy custard would have me mending much quicker.”
Wells grinned, her chins folding like a well-used fan. “Perchance, that’s dessert.”
She winked and pulled the door closed.
Lucan sat upon the mattress’s edge. He bent to kiss Mother’s forehead then took her hand. So frail and cold. He gave her thin fingers a gentle squeeze. “What mischief are you embroiled in now, young lady?”
“It seems my heart has been damaged from my spasms and will weaken as time passes.” She opened her light slate eyes, so like his, and tipped her mouth into a wan smile. “Doctor Death and Gloom says I might only have a few months to live.”
Alarm
Genny glided to the immense bed straightaway and after kissing their mother’s cheek, straightened the already tidy bedclothes.
Always a fusser, Gen needed something to do with her hands. She’d knitted enough blankets to keep the children of The Foundling Hospital he sponsored in bedding for a good while.
“Welcome home, Your Grace.” Mrs. Wells dipped into an arthritic curtsy, a grimace tightening the abigail’s mouth when she bent.
He’d bet his forgone bath his mother’s lady’s maid had hovered near the door waiting for his knock.
“Thank you, Wells. No need to curtsy as I’ve told you many times before.” Grasping her elbow, he helped her upright. “After all, you used to catch me hiding in the wardrobes and beneath the beds.”
Before I locked myself in that infernal trunk, that is.
“Don’t forget behind the curtains where you snuck bonbons and biscuits.” She chuckled, her cheeks balling like miniature twin plum puddings, and pointed a plump finger at him. “You were quite the little rapscallion.”
Lucan had always possessed a particular fondness for sweets.
He sought his mother and nodded toward the bed. “How is she?”
“Resting comfortably, but she’s excited you’re home.” Mrs. Wells motioned him onward, murmuring out the side of her mouth, “Try to keep her calm.”
“Lucan, darling?” His mother, a pale form in a swath of rose, cream, and lace, attempted to rise.
“No, Mama. You mustn’t exert yourself.” Genny stilled their mother with a hand to her shoulder. “Wells and I shall prop you with pillows if you wish to sit up.”
“Indeed, we shall.” Like a protective mother hen, Wells charged to the bedside, tsking and clucking the whole while. “You let us assist you, Your Grace.” She wedged a pair of pillows behind his mother. “Remember what the doctor said.”
“Pshaw, that old windbag. Doesn’t know what he’s talking about.” Her voice thin and reedy, Mother gave a weak wave of her hand. Only a few strands of silver tinted the lank flaxen hair hanging about her shoulder and splayed across the light pink satin pillow. “With his dire predictions, he’d have me selecting my funeral gown. How’s a patient supposed to recover with such a gloomy bat scowling at them?”
“Nonetheless, you must do as Doctor Philpott says.” Genny offered a tense smile and moved aside when Lucan reached the bed. She fidgeted about the room, straightening this and that while casting them furtive looks. She turned to Wells. “Would you please check on Mama’s dinner? Her tray should have been brought by now. Oh, and send a maid to the nursery to ask Nurse how the girls are. It’s almost Sarah’s feeding time.”
The lady’s maid nodded as she waddled to the door. “Yes, I want to make sure Cook prepared the liver the way I requested.”
“Liver. Phah.” Mother pulled a face and gave a dainty shudder. “Why should an invalid be forced to eat liver?”
Wells paused at the entrance. “Because the doctor advised you to. To strengthen your heart.”
“He also wanted to bleed me, to draw out my ill humors. I cannot think that’s too beneficial to my heart.” Mother closed her eyes, her fair lashes dark against her cheeks’ pallor. “A warm, creamy custard would have me mending much quicker.”
Wells grinned, her chins folding like a well-used fan. “Perchance, that’s dessert.”
She winked and pulled the door closed.
Lucan sat upon the mattress’s edge. He bent to kiss Mother’s forehead then took her hand. So frail and cold. He gave her thin fingers a gentle squeeze. “What mischief are you embroiled in now, young lady?”
“It seems my heart has been damaged from my spasms and will weaken as time passes.” She opened her light slate eyes, so like his, and tipped her mouth into a wan smile. “Doctor Death and Gloom says I might only have a few months to live.”
Alarm
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