Page 61 of The Earl and His Lady

“That’s terrible. The little ones are all right?”

“Yes, my lady. They’re keepin’ everyone covered in cool cloths and drinking good broth. I sent some over myself with Mrs. Simmons.”

“Do they have any needs you know of? I would like to take them a basket of things to help.” Virginia’s kind voice, appropriately serious, brought Lucas’s attention back to her as the crack of a whip would.

“Perhaps more herbs to make the broth palatable? But you would know best, my lady. You take such care with us.” Mrs. Martin smiled and reached out to touch Virginia’s hand. “We’re all glad to see you, my lady. It was a shame, to lose his lordship. But it’s good you have someone else to look after you now.”

And look after Virginia he would.

Lucas didn’t say another word, waiting for the visit to end. He could hardly give ear to what the women said, so focused was he on his thoughts and the desire to be on their way. When Virginia at last said her goodbyes and moved to retrieve her basket, Lucas sprang into action.

“Let me tend to it, my lady.” He steered her to the gig instead, barely registering what she said to him. He handed her up, then turned to see the young girl had followed, basket in hand. There were still biscuits inside, likely for the other children Virginia anticipated seeing.

“Thank you,” he said. She bobbed a curtsy as he took it.

Lucas went to the gig and shoved the basket beneath his seat, climbed up, and stripped his gloves. He dropped them on the floor and lifted the reins. Virginia watched him, brow furrowed in confusion, but he turned the gig around to go back to Heatherton Hall.

“Lucas, we ought to go the other way to see the Simmons family—”

“We aren’t seeing any more tenants today,” he said firmly, keeping his eyes on the horses. “Nor during the remainder of our visit.”

Virginia jolted and turned, eyes wide. “Lucas Calvert, you do not make those decisions on my behalf! What has come over you?”

“Actually, I am within my rights to make those decisions, my lady,” he said. Her eyes were snapping dangerously, but he didn’t care. “As your husband, I must insist you heed me. No more visits.”

“Lucas, these people are under my care until Phillip comes of age. You cannot simply—”

“I can and I have.” He turned to her long enough to make certain she saw his determination, that his will must be obeyed. She’d gone red in the cheeks, her lips pressed tightly together. “Your tenants have managed this long without your interference, they will keep a little longer.”

Virginia threw her hands up, her frustration evident in the movement. “They aren’t preserves on a shelf to keep, Lucas. These are people. Good people. They’ve been neglected, they need to know—”

He pulled the reins, more harshly than his usual manner, and when the horses stopped he turned fully in the seat to glare at her. Why did she have to be so stubborn? He never asked anything of her. He saw to all her needs, made certain she and the boys had everything they could want, and she wouldn’t acquiesce to this single request?

“I need to know that you will obey me in this, Virginia.” He’d lowered his voice, realizing he’d been shouting before, but even he heard the edge to his tone. He was nearly growling at her. He didn’t care.

“Obey?” Virginia’s head reared back on the word. “Obey? Lucas, you are being completely unreasonable. I have tenants that I have a duty to, and that duty is also to my son. There is illness among them, and—”

“That’s precisely why I need you to listen to me,” he said, a note of pleading in his words that he could not help. Anger was easier. Frustration was easier. But if he must beg, he would. “You cannot risk yourself. Not with the fever—” And there his voice cracked and Lucas turned away, studying the reins in his hands.

“Scarlet fever is serious, Lucas. And the tenants cannot afford the care we could.” She huffed, sounding as if she was reprimanding a child, explaining the obvious to him.

“Then pay the apothecary to make another visit, to take them more concoctions.” He swallowed and his hands tightened on the leather straps. She didn’t understand. “Send a basket, send a cart full of things for them, but do not go yourself. Please. Please, Virginia.” Then he closed his eyes, his heart aching with memories and fear.

Virginia’s hand on his arm, her touch gentle, made him shudder.

“Lucas, what’s the matter with you? I know scarlet fever is contagious. Everyone knows that. I will be careful. I promise.”

That wasn’t the promise he wanted. He opened his eyes to look at the black glove she wore, reminding him of too many things at once. His loss, and hers. The reason he could not tell her everything he felt, how much her safety mattered. What was at stake for him, should she fall ill.

“Abigail died after complications with scarlet fever,” he said at last, the words nearly choked from him. “And I cannot lose you too.” Let her make of that what she would. It was the truth. If he lost Virginia now, with his feelings new and undeclared, if she fell ill and did not recover, Lucas did not think he would either. Ever.

He didn’t look at her. He couldn’t. He didn’t want to see her reaction to his words, to what they implied. She wasn’t ready for him to bear his heart to her.

Silence hung between them. He could feel her tense beside him. Her gloved hand at last moved, sliding from his arm.

Lucas sighed and took up the reins, slapping them lightly against the horse’s back. The gig moved forward, to the Hall, and Virginia said nothing to halt their progress. She remained silent, and he dared to glance at her from the corner of his eye.

Her face was pale, her lips white and clenched tight. Her eyes unfocused, her thoughts obviously turned inward. Was she thinking over what he said, or how he had said it? Would she speak to him of Abigail? Promise not to go on her visits?