Page 76 of Captivating the Countess
“Teddy’s intended confessed to pushing Bell downstairs and may have confessed to murder. I think that may top my intended running off with the steward.”
His father raised a graying eyebrow and waited.
Rain sighed and settled in for questioning. “Teddy and Ives are taking Pamela to the authorities in York. I am praying your mother’s ghost is satisfied and will go back to her grave. Anything else?”
“The whole story, please. I have nothing better to do but listen. Although I’d rather have Bell tell it. I assume my mother used her for the drama? Where is she? Is she all right?”
Good question, one Rain didn’t feel qualified to answer. “I don’t believe I have the whole story yet. Bell was tired last night after dealing with Her Grace. I assume she’s in her office this morning. I’ve had no word otherwise.”
And he was trying very hard not to go down and see. He didn’t wish to risk being thrown out again. He needed time to think and plan.
“Damn, you’re a cold-blooded sort. Good to have a clear head, I suppose, but you’ll never marry this way. Give me the story.” The duke sat back and sipped his tea, looking regal even in his dressing gown.
Coldness was in the bones, Rain decided. Strong jaw, square chin... like his own and that of his knightly antecedents. They’d been bred to be strong and command with authority—not to talk aboutfeelings. “I learned from the best. You’re interrogating me instead of showing concern for how Teddy is faring or how the other guests and family are taking the drama. They saw aghostspeak through Bell, swing a chandelier, blow out the lights, and knock over a suit of armor. I arrested a lady, one of our guests, and you want me to narrate a news report?”
His father glared at him over the teacup. “Were you intending to tell me how they reacted? Have you asked how I feel about my mother haunting the house?”
“Have you ever shown an iota of interest in revealing how you feel aboutus?”
The duke narrowed his eyes but conceded the point. “We’re a pair, I suppose. Never really had time to be irresponsible like Teddy. I proposed to your mother after having danced with her twice and taken her for a carriage ride through the park with her chaperone in tow. We didn’t know each other. She was only eighteen, and I was the catch of the season. I didn’t have any doubt of her acceptance.”
“You were a cold, arrogant bastard, just like you call me, and she still adored you. You were fortunate.” That was essentially what Rain had done with Araminta. Except his father had chosen a woman with more backbone. And modern women had more freedom.
“I’d not be duke if I was a bastard,” his father said in amusement. “And I learned to adore your mother. It takes respect to build a marriage. If a haunted countess does not suit, find someone else. Just marry and get it out of the way, as I did. It’s not as if we’re the sort to moon about over unsuitable females. If I’m not dying yet, you have time. Go. Marry one. Be done with it. Who is next on your list? I know you have one.”
Rain had thrown out the list the day Bell had entered his life. She didn’t meet any of the requirements on it. She was a Malcolm and unlikely to give him a son. She was as barmy as all his relations. And she hadn’t any wealth to hold the family together if Teddy ultimately inherited the trust, as he would, if Rain didn’t have a son.
Nothing had changed—except him. He wanted Bell and no other, proving he was as irresponsible and mad as everyone else. He wasn’t prepared to admit it to his father yet.
How did he break down and tell Bell how he felt? And would she even care? She didn’t need him. She had no family or society with expectations to fulfill. Unlike his father, Rain had every reason to expect she’d reject him.
He was pretty certain he’d reject himself if he were in her shoes. He needed a plan.
“What kindof food would a lady from Scotland like?” Rain asked his patient later that morning. A farrier from Edinburgh who had stabbed himself with a hoof knife when the horse had kicked at him, the man needed distraction. Using his soothing voice, Rain cleaned and wrapped the wound. “And music? Surely a Scottish lady won’t need bagpipes for a romantic dinner?”
“Dinnae know what a lady likes,” the farrier admitted. “Been fur too long since I been home or courted. Don’ recommend the haggis though.”
“Dancing,” Rain decided, continuing to talk in hopes it healed the wound faster. He did feel a bit of heat as he dressed it. “She likes dancing. A musician who can play a waltz. A special dessert that requires being set on fire. And wine. Lots of wine. She thinks too much, like me. I need her to stop thinking for a while.”
His next patient was a housewife who’d scalded her foot dropping a kettle of boiling water. Applying the unguent and hoping he was doing some good with his voice, Rain continued speaking his problem aloud. “She doesn’t wear much jewelry so I don’t know what she likes. But I should offer her something when I propose. It should show I’m thinking of her.”
“A ring,” his patient suggested. “A woman likes a nice ring.”
He’d never really talked to his patients before. No wonder he hadn’t healed. “I have my mother’s and grandmother’s rings—but would she want a ring from the duchess who haunts her? I don’t know. I don’t know anything! I need more time.”
He was losing his soothing tone. Rain took a deep breath and decided he’d find every ring in the safe.
“Love makes you a nicer gentleman,” the patient decided as Rain finished wrapping her bandage. “Or maybe love makes you talk nicer.”
Love. He wanted to heal, but maybe what he was doing was offering love for his fellow humans? Could Bell love him back? Did love multiply and grow? Overwhelmed, he stuck to his first goal.
“How does one propose?” he asked the governess who brought one of his nephews down to be examined after he’d fallen off the furniture playing pirate. “Do I go down on one knee after we dance? Or at a candlelit table over her favorite dessert?”
“If you’re speaking of the countess, you might have to do it over a set of books and with a hot cup of tea in hand.”
The governess had a point. But Bell had accused him of not being romantic. He had to be romantic. Begging didn’t sound romantic. Neither did being rejected because she thought he wanted a son.
Lovehad provided the answer to the Malcolm argument—he’d tell her he would find Teddy a sensible wife who would produce sensible heirs they could all raise—sensibly. It would work out. Somehow. Sharing his responsibilities made sense if it gave him time to woo the countess.
