Page 20 of Her Summer Duke

She quite resembled a mannequin displaying woman’s clothes hanging from her thin frame.

“Lady Phoebe, I also took the liberty to bring your spencer to wear under your cloak. Your spencer will afford you more warmth in the carriage. It is a bit chilly this afternoon.”

Lord Montpelier released Phoebe’s hand.

She momentarily wished that there was a way to cover her hand to warm it again. She noticed that her maid had brought her fine leather gloves. Oh, had she only had those on before he had touched her hand!

His gaze at the maid was not a pleasant one.

“You need not bundle her so. I do have a blanket in the carriage.”

He watched as the maid helped Lady Phoebe on with her spencer and her cloak. With a sad expression, he observed Phoebe’s delicate warm fingers slip into the leather gloves, to be censored from his touch. Phoebe understood his thoughts, but ignored his expression – she did not wish those cold hands touching her skin. Would she ever get used to it? Could she?

The maid ignored Lord Montpelier.

“Lady Phoebe, should I pack a bag for you, just in case you decide to stay with your cousin overnight? One never knows when the weather might take a bad turn.”

Phoebe glanced out the window at the grey world outside.

“Worse than that?” She pointed to the window. “A bag cannot harm.”

She turned to see Lord Montpelier frowning, and sighed. She did not mean to displease him, but it seemed that she had.

~~~~~

Everything took far longer to arrange than Adam had hoped. Each day brought another missive from his mother, with news of George’s condition. He was not healing, and she feared more for his life every day. The funeral for his father had gone well, as well as such things might ever go, and she had missed his presence, but understood, for, for all she knew, he might have already been at sea that day, and unaware yet, of all that had passed.

Then, after a few days, came a letter which she had written after receiving his reply to her first letter. She was thrilled to hear from him, so very glad that the letter had found him in port, and that he was well. She looked forward to the day that he might return to Milbrook Park, and, in the meantime, was spending all of her effort on nursing George, although she was desperately afraid that it would be to no avail. Adam sighed – he had never truly got on very well with his brother, but the thought that he might lose George too, so soon after his father’s death, left him feeling deeply sorrowful.

He put his mother’s letter aside – he would deal with answering it later – and looked out of the window, across the nearby rooftops to the sea.

The sea that he might never sail again.

It was a sobering thought, yet an unavoidable one. If his brother survived, he would still, almost certainly, need Adam’s assistance for some time. If his brother did not survive… then Adam would be the Duke of Milbrook – a title that he had never expected to bear, and for which he felt himself rather unprepared. But if that happened, he would do his duty, and learn what was required, as fast as possible.

But other things also occupied his mind. By now, his letter should have reached Lady Margaret and, if he was lucky, she might even already be on her way to Brighton – he could but hope. Now, more than ever, his memory of her was strong, and his love had only grown in his absence from her. Some might say that he was mad, to have given his heart so utterly, on one meeting, yet he had, and he could no more undo it than turn back the tide. He ached to hold her again. Could she have forgiven him his deception? And… if the worst happened, and George died, how would she cope with the fact that the man she had thought a poor Ensign was, in fact, a Duke? It was something that he could not predict.

He turned back to his correspondence – the next letter was from his business partner, in London, and he rapidly lost himself in the details of the changes needed, to free himself from the need to sail, or to spend his days on business matters.

No amount of wishing could bring Lady Margaret to him faster. But no matter what else he had to do, every day, at the hour of twelve, he went to the end of the pier, and walked along the promenade, hoping, at every moment, that Lady Margaret might appear.

The weather was still most unsettled, with each short patch of sunshine quickly followed by rain, and storms blowing in from the sea, but he went regardless.