Page 46 of The Lord Next Door
Victoria winced. “He doesn’t know what to say to his father.”
“Why don’t you take him on back to your room and let me deal with this?”
Mrs. Wayneflete sailed into the earl’s bedroom, wearing her uniform as if she never took it off, bringing with her surety and common sense.
“Now my lords, we all need to be going to bed here. You can talk in the morning.”
“Thinks he knows better than everybody,” the earl grumbled.
But Victoria could see him rubbing his legs where they were covered by the blanket.
“If you haven’t scared off Nurse Carter, I’m sure she’ll come give your legs a good kneading. And then in the morning, we’re sending for your doctor.”
“It’s about time,” Lord Thurlow said.
Mrs. Wayneflete sent him an arch look. “Then why haven’t you done it before now, my lord?”
The earl shook his finger at the housekeeper. “I won’t be ordered about like a child. That old quack can’t help me anymore, said so himself!”
The housekeeper straightened the crumpled blanket over the earl’s lap. “Nurse Carter tells me it’s been months since you saw the doctor, my lord. Maybe he can provide new medicine.”
“Nothing will help but to die, and I’m just trapped in this body waiting.”
“Father—”
“Get out of here.” The earl pointed at the door, and then saw Victoria.
She saw the wash of red stain his pale face, and she realized her mistake.
“Do you like what you’re seeing, girl? Do you feel closer to my fortune?”
Blood drained from her face. “My lord, I never—”
Lord Thurlow stepped between her and the earl. “I told you to leave her alone.”
Victoria turned and ran down the now-deserted corridor and up the stairs. The candle in her hand flickered wildly and then went out all together when she reached the top. In the darkness, she kept her hand on the wall and almost knocked a vase from its perch on a table. Tears clogged her throat, but she would not weep. How was she ever to help Lord Thurlow and his father? It seemed like such an impossible task.
When she was finally inside her room, she had almost closed the door when it hit a solid object.
“Victoria?”
It was her husband. He’d been so quiet that she hadn’t heard him following her. Taking a deep breath, she swept the door wide. “Come in, my lord.”
“No, you’ve had enough of us for one day, I think,” he said gruffly.
His eyes showed a brief embarrassment that made her feel better.
“Again, allow me to apologize for my father’s behavior—and my own.”
She sighed. “It is difficult to deal with seeing one’s parent in constant pain.”
He frowned and shook his head. “That does not excuse my own inability to hold my temper.”
“Our parents can sometimes bring out the worst in us, can’t they?”
She smiled at him, and his stiff shoulders seemed to relax. Why did she find him so compelling, when in so many other ways he disappointed her?
“I envy your relationship with your mother,” he said.
