Truly Yours

Chapter Twenty-seven

Amanda took the first chance she could to nip into Rex's room. The newcomer had gone, Lady Royce was resting after her night's vigil, Daniel was again out combing the streets for the would-be killer, Nanny was in a laudanum-induced sleep, and Murchison was furiously scrubbing his lordship's uniform to get the bloodstains off it. They all knew the viscount could purchase another and was resigning his commission shortly anyway, but Murchison needed something to do.

So did Amanda. She was tired of fretting outside Rex's door waiting for news of his welfare or of Daniel's hunt. Daniel had laughed when she pleaded to accompany him, blood in her eyes. She was already accused of one killing, he'd said. That was enough. Amanda was so mad she felt another murder would not matter. Besides, ridding the world of the rat who had thrown the brick at Rex was not murder; it was extermination.

Amanda dismissed the footman who was assigned to watch the viscount until Lady Royce or Murchison arrived. The man protested that he had his orders to stay, but Amanda took a page from her godmother's book, raised her eyebrows, tapped her foot, and crossed her arms. The servant left.

Amanda walked softly toward the bed. Rex was lying so still, his eyes closed, that she feared her worst nightmare had turned true, but no, someone would have told her. She could breathe again.

They had him dressed in a white nightshirt that was far too big. He slept naked-Amanda blushed to think of how she came to know that-so they must have borrowed the bed gown from Daniel. The cuffs were folded back, his hands atop the covers with billows of fabric at the sleeves, like a buccaneer pirate's shirt. The overlarge neck opening gaped far enough for her to see the start of that faint line of soft, dark hair down his chest, the well-formed muscles. She clenched her fists to keep herself from reaching out to touch him, to make sure his heart was beating. Closer now, she could see that his chest was rising and falling in even measure, not labored or strained. She took another breath.

Between the white nightshirt, the white sheets, and the white bandage on his head, Rex could have been a ghost, or one of those Egyptian mummies they'd seen. His face had almost as little color, but he was alive and not in the troubling coma any longer.

She was as quiet as she could be, intending to sit in the chair and watch, or will him to recover, but a sigh of relief must have escaped her. His blue, blue eyes opened. He blinked a few times as if trying to remember where he was, who she was.

"It is I, Amanda."

The viscount tried to smile without moving anything that might hurt. "Yes, I know. I was just making certain you weren't a dream. For a minute I thought I had died and gone to heaven."

She pulled the nearby chair closer to his bed and sat down. "Silly. You are not going to die."

"No matter how much I feel as if I am ready for the grave, or so Harry told me. Did you know I had a brother?"

"I heard. And I met the gentleman earlier. He did not disturb your rest, did he?"

"Other than shaking the foundations of my life's history and my confidence in my parents' wisdom, no."

"He is rather formidable, don't you think?"

"Formidable? Did you find him so? By George, he was not insulting toward you, was he?"

"Oh, no. He just seemed confident and commanding, somewhat like how you appeared to me at first."

"Arrogant, you mean?"

"Not at all. You were a soldier, an officer, every inch a gentleman. And he is…" She did not quite know what Harry was. "A self-made man, I suppose, yet a gentleman."

"Indeed, and I admire him for that. I found him to be a fine fellow, one I would like to know better. Handsome, too," he added.

Amanda laughed. "What, are you fishing for compliments? You must know he could be your twin, except he is older and does not have the distinguished scar on his cheek. But you are far better looking."

"I am? How do you figure that, if we are so alike?"

"His nose is perfectly straight. It has no character."

"Do not make me laugh, my skull hurts too much." He raised his hand an inch or two off the mattress. She took it and carried it to her cheek. "Oh, Rex, I was so worried."

"Don't you know I have the hardest head in the kingdom? Except for my father, perhaps."

"But you could have died!" She brushed away the tear that had fallen from her cheek onto his hand. "And it was all my fault."

"Hush, angel. You were not to blame. How could you be? I was the bacon-brained idiot who went off alone with nothing but a dog and a flimsy sword stick. That was almost as foolish as walking into the French patrol."

She swiped at her eyes with the sleeve of her gown. "You rushed off without thinking because you were upset with me. You would not have gone near Mr. Johnston's house in the first place except on my behalf. I daresay you would never have encountered the man at all, because you would not have been in London if not for my difficulties. I have brought you nothing but trouble. And now this." She turned her face away, knowing tears upset him.

He squeezed her hand, not with any degree of force, but enough to make her look at him. "You have brought me awake."

She pulled her hand away, ready to leave. "I am so sorry. They said you should not sleep constantly, but if you are weary…"

"No, I mean awake to life. I was half-dead back in the country, with no ambition and no goals or desires, nothing but clouds on the horizon. I am still not certain about what to do with myself, but now I have seen the rainbows and the stars, thanks to you. I would trade that for any number of broken heads."

Amanda found her handkerchief and blotted at new tears caused by his words, not her guilt. "You will do something fine, I know. You will help your father, and you will help your Inspector Dimm. You will learn to be as good an earl as your own sire." That was her fondest hope and most fervent prayer, that he would realize his duty to beget the next heir, no matter what mutton-headed vow he'd sworn to himself.

He reached for her hand again. "Thank you for your confidence in me, that I will be a worthy successor to the title."

"You believed in me, remember?"

"Ah, but I had proof."

"You did? Then we can disprove the charges against me?" In a perverse way Amanda was disappointed. She was thrilled not to be awaiting the gallows, of course, but once exonerated of the charges, she'd have no excuse to reside with Lady Royce. Lord Rexford would have no further need to stay on in London. "Did you find evidence at Johnston's house?"

"Um, not quite. My proof is not exactly submissible to the court."

"I do not understand."

"I want to explain, truly I do. Perhaps I will be able to make you see someday." He made a feeble attempt at an excuse: "When I am feeling better."

"I will try to be patient." She leaned over to kiss his cheek. "I hear footsteps. That is either the footman with the beef broth I sent him to fetch or Murchison with your uniform. Murchison is to sit with you this afternoon."

"You'll come back?"

His wanting her company meant Amanda would move heaven and her godmother to visit him again. "As often as your mother permits me. She thinks we must behave with discretion, especially with our increased notoriety after your incident."

The footsteps she heard were more a scrabbling of hurrying claws on the bare wooden floor, through the door Amanda had left open for propriety's sake. "Oh no!"

She threw herself in front of the viscount just as Verity launched her heavy body to rejoin her master on the bed.

The dog's weight knocked her over, right atop Rex.

The dog sat wagging her tail, licking Rex's face, then Amanda's as she tried to disentangle herself from Rex.

"Ahem."

Murchison was at the door, with a tureen and a ladle and a towel, to serve Rex his soup.

"The dog jumped," Amanda blurted out. "I was protecting Lord Rexford. I fell, I swear."

"Um-hum."

"Nothing indecent about this at all," she said, scrambling off the bed, pulling down her skirts and pulling up her neckline, scrubbing at her cheek where the dog had slobbered in joy at being united with her master.

"Hmm."

"You can ask Lord Rexford."

Murchison could ask, if he felt like speaking, but he'd get no answer. Rex had passed out from the pain. The dog, the woman-How many bricks had he been hit with?

He was unconscious again.

The French were firing, pulling Rex from the sweetest dream of Amanda in his arms. No, those were not rifles, he realized, they were loud voices, angry voices, fired across his bed.

"I shall sit with him."

"No, I shall."

"He is my son!"

"He is my son, too."

Good grief, his parents were in the same room, his room, and they were arguing over him as if he were the last tart on the platter. Rex decided to keep his eyes closed until they figured it out.

"You look too feeble to watch over a flea," the usually polite and poised countess hurled at the earl.

"Well, you don't look like any spring rosebud yourself," the ever-calm and even-tempered earl fired back.

"I haven't lived like a hermit, if that's what you mean, hiding myself away and eating heaven knows what."

"Well, I have not been trotting about town to every gadfly entertainment."

"No, you have been nursing your grievances in solitude for decades."

"While you have forgotten you were ever married."

"Oh, no, you don't, my fine lord. You dare not accuse me of infidelity, not ever again, not once! I have honored my wedding vows-you know I am speaking the truth-and that is the last time I shall defend myself against your charges for all of eternity. I remember my promises every day, and I remember how you stole my son from me."

"You left us!"

"You forced me to leave!"

"You could have come back."

"You told me not to."

"And so you did not come for the son you now profess to love with a mother's devotion. Bah! Leave us alone again, and go to a play or a party or a masked ball. You'll like that." •

"I am sure you'd like me to leave my house, and my son, so you can claim them again. I will not go!"

"They are mine, madam! This is Royce House, he is Jordan Royce, and I am Lord Royce."

"I am Lady Royce, you wretched old man, and have every right to be here."

"You sent for me."

"I would not have, if I thought you were as cantankerous as always. But now that you are here, do something useful. Go to your friends at the high court and stop Sir Nigel Turlowe from calling Amanda's trial for next week."

Next week? Rex struggled to sit up, ignoring the pain. Amanda's trial was next week and he was still abed? Damn it! And damn his parents for caring more about past arguments than Amanda's future. Then he felt a hand on his chest, pushing him back. He looked up to see Amanda's face, pinched with concern. She was not looking at him, but at his parents, at either side of his bed.

"My lord, my lady, can you not see you are causing Lord Rexford pain and agitation, which the surgeon said was bad for his recovery? I shall sit with him."

The countess recalled her manners. "I am sorry we aired our dirty linen in front of you, Amanda, but you can go now. The earl and I can act like adults and resolve the matter amicably."

"Quite right, my dear Miss Carville, and I also apologize that you had to hear our little contretemps. My wife and I shall take over the sickroom duties now."

Little contretemps? Rex thought. He'd swear the entire household heard them, if not the neighborhood. He was about to speak, but again Amanda stopped him.

"I am sorry to disoblige you, sir, but I will not leave Rex until I am certain you will notshout and carry on, or do each other injury."

The countess smiled. "If we have not torn each other to shreds by now, we shall survive our son's recuperation. Furthermore, you know how improper your presence in his bedroom is. We have been at pains to correct any unfortunate impression your own illness created."

The earl nodded. "Highly irregular, miss. You'd best go along before you start still more tittle-tattle. I have already sent messages to anyone with influence at the magistrate's office. The trial will not be held until your defense"-he looked down at his son, who looked away-"is quite ready."

"I care nothing for the gossip, my lord. I do care for Lord Rexford. He was injured on my behalf, so I feel responsible. I thank you for your assistance, and I regret that you had to travel all this way, but I will not leave now." She took a deep breath and looked at both of Rex's relatives in turn. "You have caused him enough pain. I do not know your differences, and have no right to interfere, but I beg you to consider the harm you have caused the son you swear you love. You have kept him from his own brother, and from having two caring parents. Please, go settle your differences elsewhere, without tearing him apart between you two."

The earl and the countess looked at each other, then at Amanda. Finally they looked at Rex. He smiled, and held out a hand to Amanda. "My angel."

"She is right, you know," the countess told her husband, leading him from the room. "And you need a good meal. I'll have Cook fix your favorites. Do you still prefer lamb over beef?"

The earl glanced back once, then followed his wife. "I like that gal. She has a good head on her shoulders, and good bottom, too."

"Of course. She is my godchild."