Lord Deverill's Heir, Catherine Coulter [the best motivational books .TXT] 📗

The earl shifted his attention to Lady Ann. “I compliment you, Ann, on your furnishing of this room. The Velvet Room, I believe it is called?”

“Thank you for the praise, but it isn’t deserved. This room hasn’t been touched in years. The velvet has lasted beautifully, has it not? The earl’s first wife, Magdalaine, recovered all the furnishings. I believe the crimson velvet and the gold make a very rich effect. And with those white columns throughout the chamber, I sometimes feel as though I should be awaiting the king. Well, perhaps not George, for he is quite mad, poor man.”

The earl sipped his tea. It was rich and dark, just the way he liked it.

He said to Elsbeth, “Do you plan to make your home at Evesham Abbey?” Elsbeth’s teacup clattered into its saucer. “Oh goodness, no, my lord.

That is, well, I do think it most kind of your lordship to perhaps not mind if I did stay, but now I can afford to have quite different plans.” She beamed at him. “I still have to pinch myself to believe it’s true.

But it is, Lady Ann has assured me again and again that it is, that I did not misunderstand. It isn’t a mistake. Perhaps my father did care just a bit for me after all. Lady Ann assures me that he did. I never believed that he did, but he proved it in the end, didn’t he?” There didn’t seem to be a ready answer to that. The ten-thousand-pound legacy from her father. “Yes,” the earl said finally, “he obviously did care for you. What do you intend to do with your fortune, Elsbeth? Travel to Paris? Buy a villa in Rome?”

“I haven’t yet decided, my lord.” She shot a look toward Lady Ann, who said immediately, “We are just beginning to speak of possibilities, Justin. But I think that Elsbeth would greatly enjoy a prolonged stay in London. I would, of course, accompany her.” She paused a moment and met his gray eyes squarely. “After you and Arabella are wed, we shall firmly settle our plans. We will not remain here in your way.” The earl’s left eyebrow flared upward to his temple, an identical habit that Arabella had inherited from her father. It shook Ann a moment. They looked so much alike. She could but pray that they wouldn’t come to think of each other as brother and sister. He said nothing to Ann’s outrageous statement, but she knew he wanted to.

After Crupper had cleared away the tea tray, Dr. Branyon moved closer to Lady Ann, and said quietly, “Don’t rush your fences, my dear. I do wonder though what the earl wanted to say to you. It was difficult but he held his tongue. That is excellent and perhaps bodes well for the future.”

“Nonsense. Justin knows quite well what is at stake. He will do his best to drag Arabella to the altar, just you mark my words.”

“If she does not care for him I don’t know what we will do.”

“We will simply watch and wait, Paul. I do not believe Justin is stupid or clumsy. We will see. Actually, we have no choice but to wait and see.” Dr. Branyon looked toward Elsbeth, who was painstakingly making conversation with the earl. “You didn’t tell me that you were leaving with Elsbeth.”

Lady Ann felt a sudden quickening deep inside her. She blinked, looking away from him. A long-buried memory rose in her mind, and she said unexpectedly, “Do you remember, Paul, when I was birthing Arabella? I have never told you, but I know that you were with me for all of those long agonizing hours. I know that you never left me. I remember your voice urging me, always urging me, even when I wanted to die. I know that you saved my life.”

He would never forget the horror of those long hours, his fear that she would die, his ultimate fury at the earl for his damned indifference.

“No,” he said slowly, “I did not think you would remember. The pain was so intense that I believed your mind wouldn’t allow you to remember.” She was being polite, he realized, making certain that he knew he was still welcome here, that he would always be welcome. He rose suddenly, wanting only to leave. He didn’t believe he could stand kindness from her. “It grows late, Ann, and I should stop by and check on Mr. Crocker’s stomach pains. It’s a thirty-minute ride. The old man will probably be cursing the air blue by the time I get there. He calls me boy, at my age.” He doesn’t want those memories, Lady Ann thought, staring up at him. It was a horrible time for me, but he was my physician, nothing more, and I have made him uncomfortable. She rose to stand beside him. She found an easy smile for him, but it was difficult. “Do come by tomorrow, Paul, if for no other reason than to pronounce Arabella fit again. I do hope that you will since I don’t wish to hear her argue with you.”

“Of course.”

Lady Ann placed her hand upon his arm and again felt a surge of pleasure course through her. She said shyly, “It would give me—give us great pleasure if you would stay to dinner. I will have cook prepare capon, your favorite, with almond sauce and those small white onions.” Her husband had hated capon. She determined to have it at least once a week now.

You do not owe me your gratitude, he wanted to shout at her. “As you wish, Ann,” he said instead. Through long years of practice, he kept other thoughts to himself. He patted her hand as he would a patient’s who had just followed his instructions perfectly. “Tomorrow, then, my dear.” Lady Ann stood silently at the door of the Velvet Room until Dr. Branyon had accompanied Crupper out