Page 13 of My Highland Rogue
Yet she was as given to worshipping the Adaire family as Sean. No one was as handsome as Harrison or as talented. No one’s future looked brighter than the boy made earl.
When Gordon had gone to study with Harrison and Jennifer, she hadn’t been impressed at the countess’s generosity.
“You’ll get ideas above your station, boy. You just remember he’s the earl.”
Although he doubted that he’d ever need Latin or debate Pythagorean theory, he was determined to be educated, to learn as much as Harrison knew or even more.
Yet he’d never appreciated, until he’d been nearly grown, Betty’s influence. She’d given him something he’d not expected: independence. He’d been forced to depend on himself, to grow a skin thick enough to endure his own mother’s antipathy.
For that he would have thanked Betty, had she still been alive.
“If you’re not a ghost, then you must be himself.”
He turned to see his father leaning against the doorframe of his bedroom, one hand clutching it to hold himself up.
Sean was the one who looked like a ghost. Clad in his nightshirt, he was rail thin, his pallor so great that Gordon put the frame back on the mantel and walked quickly toward him.
“You shouldn’t be out of bed, I’m thinking,” he said, reaching his father.
He put his arm around Sean’s waist and walked with him back to the bed.
“I’ll not have you playing nursemaid.”
“Someone obviously has to,” Gordon said.
“I’ve got a nurse, thanks to Lady Jennifer. She insists on sending me a girl around the clock. I think she’s afraid I might die without someone notifying her.”
He should have known that Jennifer would ensure that his father was cared for.
“Where is this nursemaid of yours?”
Sean took a moment to answer, the effort evidently tiring him. “She went to fetch something from the Hall.”
Gordon helped him into bed, covered him, then reached over to arrange his pillow.
“What does the physician say?” he asked, realizing he should have asked Jennifer that question.
“Damn fool. Same thing they always say. They don’t know, but I should take this tonic or that medicine. Just in case, you understand.”
Sean looked as if he’d lost nearly half his body weight. He was so frail a stiff wind might blow him away. His hair, once the color of straw, had thinned until there were only strands covering the bald patches.
“He had to have said something.”
“My insides aren’t working like they’re supposed to,” Sean said, scowling at him. “I’ll not tell you more than that. I’ll keep my own counsel, thanks.”
Gordon pulled the chair close and sat.
Sean looked over at him. “So, you’ve been living in London all this time, boy? What makes you think you need to come home now?”
His father hadn’t changed. Nor had Gordon expected that illness would soften Sean in any way.
“I take it Jennifer told you where I lived.”
“It’s Lady Jennifer to you.”
Gordon didn’t correct himself.
Sean turned his head away.
