Page 55 of The Tempting of Thomas Carrick
Nolan sipped and mumbled, “It’s all nonsense, this healer rubbish. But when it doesn’t work…” He shrugged. “Underneath it all, he knows that it’s because he’s old and his time is coming. I think he agreed because she’s a guest, after all, and he’s old-fashioned about such courtesies.”
Thomas kept his lips shut; it would be easier all around if Nigel as well as Nolan believed that. It would keep them out of Lucilla’s, his, and Manachan’s hair while Lucilla tested her tonics. And while he was a touch surprised that both Nigel and Nolan, and even Norris if his occasional nods were any guide, had such a poor regard for the healer’s arts, it was perfectly possible that, other than with long-ago childhood ailments, they, personally, had never seen the difference a good healer could make in people’s lives.
Quite aside from her reputation, he’d seen Lucilla act, not once but twice. There was a young girl, Lucy, who lived with her parents, Jeb and Lottie Fields, in one of the more distant shepherd’s cabins, who would not be alive if it hadn’t been for a much younger Lucilla. Likewise, the Bradshaws. He would never have thought of the well as the source of their illness. She had—it had been she who saved them.
“Mind you,” Nigel said. “I’m rather impressed by her fortitude in remaining after stumbling on that adder. I would have thought she would have run screaming from the house and all the way back to the Vale.”
Nolan glanced across the table and caught Thomas’s eye. “A bite from an adult adder at this time of year…” Nolan smirked, then hid the expression behind his glass. “I’m surprised, cuz, that you didn’t insist on taking her home yourself. After all, you were the one who brought her onto Carrick lands.”
Nigel snorted. “Just think what will happen if any harm befalls her while here.” Nigel shuddered melodramatically, then drained his glass again—and, again, reached for the decanter.
Cradling his own glass, Nolan nodded. “And—worse—think of what the situation will be if she treats Papa, but instead of getting better, he gets worse. How will the clan react to that news, I wonder?”
There was a malicious glint in Nolan’s eyes when they touched Thomas’s.
Thomas didn’t respond, didn’t outwardly react at all, but it took effort to keep his body relaxed, his fingers gently wrapped about his glass. Because regardless of Nigel and Nolan’s motives in sending those barbs his way, their comments held more than a passing acquaintance with the truth.
Yet regardless, Lucilla remaining at the manor and treating Manachan was the right path—the one he had to follow for the good of the clan. Moreover, Lucilla, in her capacity as the Lady’s local representative, had insisted, and despite the impulses riding him, he had no right to gainsay her.
Rationally, logically, he knew all that, yet his cousins’ comments still pricked and prodded that part of him that, when it came to her, was neither rational nor logical. The part that wanted her safe at any cost, and at present, he was fairly certain that meant back in the Vale and away from here.
The Bradshaws. Joy Burns. Faith Burns. And now the adder in the still room. Coincidence could only stretch so far, and his belief in it had died long ago.
Norris drained his glass, set it down, and rose. “I’m going up.” He directed a general nod around the table. “Good night.”
Thomas murmured a good night in response. Nigel and Nolan just watched Norris leave.
Thomas drained his own glass. He felt no inclination to sit with Nigel and Nolan; if he did, he might be tempted to raise issues that, at present, would be better left unbroached—at least until he saw if Manachan regained his strength as Lucilla hoped he would.
Setting down his empty glass, he pushed back from the table.
Nigel and Nolan did the same.
Thomas strolled to the open doorway, went through, then paused and glanced back at his cousins. “I’m going to the drawing room. Will you be joining the company?”
Nolan exchanged a glance with Nigel, then Nigel met Thomas’s gaze. “My apologies to Miss Cynster, but Nolan and I have important business to attend to.”
Thomas kept his brows from rising in cynical disbelief; instead, he inclined his head and continued on his way.
But at the far end of the corridor, before he turned into the front hall, he paused and glanced back—and in the dimness at the end of the long corridor, saw Nolan follow Nigel through the billiard room door.
Lips twisting cynically, Thomas walked on.
* * *
Nolan leaned over the billiard table and lined up his shot.
Nigel stood at the end of the table, chalking the tip of his cue.
Nolan potted a ball into the side pocket and circled the table to line up another shot.
Nigel stared at the tip of his cue. “Do you think Lucilla’s tonic will improve Papa’s health?”
Nolan waited until he’d taken his shot, then straightened. His gaze remaining on the table, he shrugged. “Who can say?”
“But she is supposed to be an excellent healer—I’ve heard people say she’s even better than her mother.”
“She might be able to make him feel a touch better for a little while, but you know as well as I do that he’s simply old. Not even Lucilla has access to the Fountain of Youth. He’ll be better for a day or so, and then exhaust himself and slide back again—you know he will. Just like he’s done again and again over the last few months.” Nolan bent over the table again.
