“Eleanor!” he shouted as she exited the room, her footman at her heels. “You can’t do this, Eleanor!”
“I sent for my physician hours ago,” she called back. “That’s more than you did for Felicity. He sat by her side and held my hand as we watched your wife take her last breath. And he knelt by my side on the pavement in front of our front gate and declared Michael dead. He was with me during the deaths of my sister and my husband. I’ve no doubt he’ll stand beside me for the duration at yours. As a matter of fact, I’ll send him up the moment he arrives. There are rules of etiquette. How would it look if we allowed you to suffer any longer than necessary? As the sister of your late first wife, I’ll make certain you don’t feel a thing—pleasure or pain.”
“Eleanor…”
“Don’t thank me. It’s the least I can do for you. We certainly don’t wish for you to overstay your welcome—here at Courtland Manor or anywhere else. Goodbye, Rothermere.”
Rothermere listened to the soft swish of Lady Courtland’s skirts as she moved down the corridor toward the stairs. He waited for the sound of the tumbler turning in the lock, but it was a long time coming as the door re-opened and the footman returned.
“What do you want?” Rothermere barked.
“I’ve come to bring you a treat…”
* * *
“I can’t believe you intimated to Lord Rothermere that I would consent to help you kill him, Eleanor.” Sir Kenneth Sheridan sat perched on the edge of the Louis XIV settee in the blue and white salon of the Dowager Wing of Courtland Manor. Having arrived a little over an hour ago, he sat enjoying a glass of brandy.
“Believe it, Ken. I threatened him with you.” The dowager marchioness sat across from him on the twin Louis XIV settee sipping sherry.
“I’m a physician, Eleanor.”
“I know I should have sent for a surgeon, but I didn’t trust a surgeon. I trust you.”
He gave her a fond look. “I would be insulted if you hadn’t sent for me—especially in the case of Rothermere. I didn’t mean I thought you should have sent for a surgeon. I meant that I swore an oath. To preserve life, not take it.”
“More’s the pity.” She gave the doctor an exaggerated frown. “He isn’t much of a man, but I think he’d make a superb cadaver for your medical students to slit open and carve upon. I would start with his liver. He has no heart.”
She was serious. Dead serious. But the doctor burst out laughing. He couldn’t help it. He’d known Eleanor Courtland all of his life. He had known her when she was still Miss Wolverton, daughter of Viscount and Lady Wolverton.
The two of them had grown up within a stone’s throw of the village of Thurston Mill, where her father was the lord of the manor and his father was the local physician. Their lives were entwined in the way the lives of the residents of small villages often were.
Childhood playmates, Kenneth and Eleanor were contemporaries with Eleanor being a year older. Felicity, Lady Felicity Anna Mary Wolverton, had joined the nursery later. Ten years after Eleanor.
After spending eight years at the University of Edinburgh, Kenneth Sheridan had returned to Thurston Mill a physician and had promptly fallen madly in love, not with Eleanor who had married and was living happily with the Earl, later the first Marquess, of Courtland, but with Lady Felicity Wolverton.
Unfortunately, Lord Wolverton had refused his request for Felicity’s hand in marriage. As the Season’s Incomparable Beauty, his younger daughter was meant for a better life than that as the wife of a country physician. Felicity was going to marry the Marquess of Rothermere. She was going to be a marchioness.
But within three years of becoming the Marchioness of Rothermere, Felicity was dead. Kenneth Sheridan, who had been called to London to attend her and had held her in his arms when she drew her last breath, was devastated.
A year later, Eleanor was equally devastated when Michael, Marquess of Courtland, was brutally set upon and murdered within sight of the front door of his London townhouse. Once again, Kenneth Sheridan had been called upon to attend the marquess and his widow.
The friendship between Kenneth and Eleanor that had begun in childhood, and been renewed with Felicity’s death, had grown deeper and dearer after Michael’s murder. The two old friends had gradually become more. It didn’t matter that Eleanor was still in love with her husband or that Ken was still in love with her sister. They understood. They formed an arrangement that suited them both, an arrangement based on friendship, respect, trust, and understanding. And if it wasn’t exactly what either of them wanted, it was exactly what each of them needed.
“I’m inclined to agree,” Ken told her. “And I’ve yet to meet the man.”
“You’ve seen his handiwork,” Eleanor reminded him. “You’re in a position to judge.”
The doctor opened his mouth to speak and Lady Courtland held up a held up a hand. “I know the Bible says to ‘judge not, that ye be not judged’. But, in this case I don’t think God would mind very much if Rothermere ceased to exist.”
Sheridan gave her an indulgent smile. Eleanor had always been more than a bit headstrong. He’d always admired that about her. “I don’t pretend to know what God thinks, Ellie. I’m just a man who is perpetually bewildered by the cruelty a man like Rothermere displays toward his weak and defenseless victims.” He swallowed the last of his brandy. “Especially since he was born a gentleman. I know I shouldn’t be shocked. There have certainly been a host of villainous noblemen throughout history, but I’m still surprised by it.” He leaned forward to refill his empty brandy glass. “I suppose I expect noblemen to be decent, moral, and principled.”
“Well,” she drawled. “Rothermere may hold a noble title, but he’s not a gentleman and there’s nothing noble in him.” She shuddered in reaction. “He’s evil, Ken. Pure, unadulterated evil. I should have let Alex dispatch him at St. Bartholomew’s Chapel this morning. The world would be better off without him. But I didn’t want my child—my son—to have to carry that memory or that burden for the rest of his life in order for me to have my revenge.”
Ken took another swallow of brandy, savoring the taste of it on his tongue. “You did the right thing, Ellie.” Reaching over, he covered her hand with his own. “You said he was injured. What did Alex do to cause injury?”
“Alex broke the little finger on his right hand.”
“How?”
Seeing the interest on his face, Eleanor described the injury and how Alex caused it. “You can attend to it, can’t you?”
“As a gentleman and a physician, I’m not supposed to dirty my hands with the physical labor of setting bones. That’s surgeon’s work. But I was taught how to mend the whole body. I know how to set broken bones even if I rarely have the opportunity.” He looked at her. “Is any other part of his hand affected?”
Eleanor shook her head. “Just his finger.” She sighed. “Again, more’s the pity. I suggested Alex break his arm.”
Ken’s smile became a grin. “Ouch.”
She shrugged her shoulders. “I suppose it’s just as well Alex didn’t. Rothermere would’ve probably enjoyed it.”
“I don’t like the idea of you staying here with him,” he admitted, squeezing her hand to show his concern. “He despises you…”
“The feeling is mutual.”
“Which is a volatile combination.” He cleared his throat. “I can’t believe Alex allowed you to bring him here.”
“He had to allow it,” Eleanor told him. “I gave him no choice.” She read the expression on her friend’s face and hastened to explain. “I brought him here because I couldn’t go home with him or allow him to go home alone or with any of his cronies. I had be sure he couldn’t follow Alexander.”
“My dear Ellie, Alex is a man grown. He’s perfectly capable of taking care of himself. You and Michael saw to that. He got the best of Rothermere didn’t he?”
“He got the best of Rothermere in that horrid chapel in front of a clergyman and dozens of witness
es. And Felix Rothermere isn’t likely to let that go unpunished. And certainly not in front of witnesses.” She paused to gather her breath. “What sort of honeymoon would Alexander have looking over his shoulder the whole time? Worrying about Rothermere’s next move? With Rothermere here, injured and under guard, Alexander can relax.”
“I can’t.”
“You aren’t on your honeymoon, my dear.”
He nodded. “True.”
Eleanor stood up, and tugging on his hand, pulled him up after her. “You are, however, on the job and you’ve a patient to attend.”
* * *
“You said Alex snapped his little finger.” The doctor set a cup of tea on the table beside the dowager marchioness, poured a cup for himself and returned the china pot to the tray on the butler’s table before the fire.
They were sharing a pot of tea and a plate of little cakes in the marchioness’s sitting room following Kenneth’s examination of the evil that was Rothermere.
“He did.” Eleanor took a sip of tea, savoring the bouquet and the warmth of it. If the truth be known, being in Rothermere’s presence gave her the chills. She was very glad Ken had decided to spend the night.
“Was that all?”
She nodded. “Yes.”
“Are you certain?”
Eleanor frowned. “Of course I’m certain, Kenneth. I walked up to the altar immediately after Alexander did it and suggested Alexander break his arm.”
The doctor studied his lady friend. “Rothermere has a broken wrist. Were you aware of that?”
“No, I wasn’t,” Eleanor answered honestly. “I knew his hand was badly swollen, more than seemed usual for a broken pinky finger, but I didn’t know he had a broken wrist. I didn’t touch him.” She gave an involuntary shudder.
“I can’t blame you for that,” Kenneth said. “I didn’t want to touch him either. He’s very reptilian. And I’ve never been overly fond of reptiles. Luckily, Stallings isn’t so squeamish.”
“Stallings broke his wrist?” Lady Courtland was genuinely surprised. “I didn’t ask him to do that. But I could have given him the idea I wanted him to dispatch Rothermere.” She met the doctor’s gaze. “I’m afraid I wasn’t very subtle when I was making threats. Did he confess to breaking Rothermere’s wrist?”
“He did.” The physician nodded. “While he was helping me set the wrist.” He smiled. “Stallings really had no choice but to admit to the injury. Rothermere cursed him for breaking it and for setting it. It seems your footman didn’t think a broken finger was enough of a deterrent to retaliation against Alex.”
“I’ll have to reward him handsomely for that.” She smiled.
“I took care of it.”
“How?”
“I gave Stallings five gold sovereigns for breaking his wrist.” He grinned. “And another five for assisting me in setting it. Rothermere refused the dose of laudanum I offered to ease the discomfort before we began. “You’ll be happy to know that Rothermere screamed in agony when I pulled the bones in place. Unfortunately for him, the process was rather lengthy and painful. It seems I’m out of practice. That’s one bit of pain I don’t think he enjoyed.”
Eleanor lifted one elegantly arched eyebrow. “Did you?”
The physician’s face flushed with color. “I’m ashamed to admit I did. But not in the way you mean. I derived no carnal pleasure from it…”
“I’m delighted to hear it,” she retorted.
“But I forgot my Hippocratic Oath. I paid no heed to ‘First, do no harm’. I reveled in doing harm to him.”
“You did offer him laudanum for the pain.”
“And you made certain he wouldn’t swallow a drop of it.” Ken ran a hand through his hair. “Setting and splinting the finger was bad enough. Stallings had to hold him down for that and then the wrist… I’m surprised you didn’t hear his screams.”
“I did.” Eleanor smiled at the doctor as he finger-combed his disheveled hair into place. His fingers were long, the nails neatly trimmed and scrupulously clean, a rarity for physicians. She marveled at their dexterity and the gentleness in his touch. He was, in her estimation, a gentle giant, for Kenneth Sheridan was an imposing figure, standing several inches taller than Michael had and taller even than Alexander who had surpassed his father’s height by a good inch. She imagined it was the Norse blood running through his veins. His hair had thinned only slightly and was turning from white blond to a distinguished shade of silver that complimented his sparkling deep blue eyes.
“And enjoyed every minute of it,” Ken added.
“I reveled in it,” she admitted.
“Ellie, what were you thinking this morning?”
“I was thinking I couldn’t stand by and allow another young girl to be married to Rothermere.” She looked at the doctor. “It was almost as if Felicity were demanding I do something to stop it. I kept seeing her face the way it looked the night she died. Barely recognizable.”
The doctor nodded. “If you hadn’t called me to attend Lady Rothermere, I would never have recognized that woman as Felicity.” He covered his face with his hands. “When I learned you’d gone to Rothermere’s wedding, I was afraid for you, Eleanor. Afraid for your well-being. Afraid for your life. You’ve only got one, you know? And I don’t think I could bear to have you lose it.” He sounded wounded. “I know you weren’t invited to Rothermere’s wedding. How did you know where it was?”
“I sent a Bow Street Runner to find someone who was invited.”
“You should have told me. I would have gone with you.”
“I didn’t have time to send word to you, Ken. I barely managed to get there in time myself. Once the Duchess of Sussex told me his plans, I had to make additional plans of my own. Men never give thought to the preparations needed for a society wedding. It might have been short notice, but I was determined that my only son should have a ceremony befitting the Marquess of Courtland and his bride. He deserves better than the scandal that’s sure to follow. And so does Liana.” She patted the back of Ken’s hand. “My heart nearly stopped when Alexander walked through the doors and objected to the wedding. I was never so frightened or so proud.” Lady Courtland took a sip of her tea, then leaned forward and set the cup back onto its saucer. “Of Alex. He didn’t flinch or falter. He did what needed to be done. I wish you could have seen it. I wish you could have been there sitting by my side while my son married a very nice girl.”
“I would have liked to have been there to hold your hand, Ellie,” he said softly. “I would have liked that very much.”
“Rothermere is a threat to my son and my son’s bride.” She focused her gaze on the doctor. “I had to go. I had to be there. I had to do what I could.”
“I know.”
“I never meant to slight you, Ken.”
“I know, Ellie.” He pulled his hand from beneath hers and interlaced their fingers.
“I hate Felix Rothermere,” she said. “But not enough to risk my immortal soul by killing him or by asking anyone else to do it. Especially you.”
“What do you plan to do with him?”
“I plan to keep him here as my guest until Lord Davies has a ship heading to India or Australia or the South Sea Islands or Alexander returns from his honeymoon. Whichever comes first.”
He inhaled sharply. “You haven’t changed your mind about allowing Alex to dispatch him, have you?”
“Of course not. I always planned to book him one way passage to the other side of the world.”
“I don’t want you to stay here alone with him. He’s dangerous.”
“Not if he’s drugged.”
The physician gave a short laugh. “How are we going to manage that? You’ve made it nearly impossible. He won’t touch any medicines or potions I mix up.”
“So, we’ll put it in his food or drink.”
“He’ll be on his guard,” Ken warned. “He’ll eat and drink as little as possible.”
“Can he starve to death in three weeks?” E
leanor asked.
“Not likely.”
“That’s too bad.”
He couldn’t help himself. Dr. Kenneth Sheridan threw back his head and laughed. “Not to worry, my dear,” he told her when his laughter subsided. “We’ll think of something.”
Eleanor Courtland gave him a mischievous smile. “We can always have Stallings break his other arm.”
Chapter Nineteen
“I have been a stranger in a strange land.”
—Moses, 14th Century B.C.
Someone was watching him.
Alex awoke with a start to find her sitting silently on a chair across from his bed, a low burning candle on the table beside her. Reaching down, he automatically checked his state of modesty to be certain he had not kicked the covers to the side as was his usual habit. He blinked at the sight of her still wearing his nightshirt and the quilted velvet robe, her arms wrapped around knees that were drawn up to her chest.
“Liana?”
“Yes.”
“Are you all right? Is anything amiss?” Holding the bedsheet in place, Alex pushed himself into a sitting position, using the pillows to cushion the carved English oak headboard.
“I’m fine. Nothing’s amiss.”
“What are you doing?”
Her voice sounded thick and hesitant and she seemed small and fragile and lost. “Watching you.”
A light sleeper from childhood, Alex found the fact that he’d awakened to find someone else in his bedchamber close enough to do him harm alarming. He was always alert, seeming to sleep with one eye open. He always heard the maids and footmen stirring in the early morning, always heard Beau enter to collect or lay out his garments or shaving things. He was always awake to greet them. Alex thought it a measure of the toll the past two days had taken on him that he could sleep the sleep of the dead while someone else was sitting beside his bed—if only for a minute or two. “How long have you been sitting there watching me?”