Page 48 of Tutoring a Lady into Sin
“I will get Mama,” Percy said hastily. “No need to ring for one of the servants.” He was out the door before Phineas could call after him to stop.
“Here,” Phineas said as he reached for the preparation of medicine, “do try to drink something, Uncle.”
Lord Linfield slurped at the liquid gratefully. His lips smacked against the side of the cup, and Phineas tried to tip it at a better angle, so they would get more in his mouth and less on the front of his dressing gown, but it made little difference. Felton drank greedily, and that resulted in half the mixture being swallowed while the other half dribbled down his chin.
“I shall make some more.” Phineas placed the cup back on the table and reached for the bottle of laudanum, but Uncle Felton shook his head minutely.
“No,” he wheezed. “I just needed enough so that I might…I might…” A cough wracked his body so violently, Phineas could hear the rattle in Felton’s chest.
He leaned forward, trying to adjust the pillows, so he could move his friend into an upright sitting position. The raspy coughs died away, and Phineas peered at Felton’s face, afraid of what he might see there. But to his surprise, Felton had not expired with that one last breath. His eyes were alert as if the cough had taken him by surprise.
“Do you want some tea, Uncle?” Phineas asked. “If you do not want more medication, I must insist that you drink something. I can have the servants bring you anything you like. I may even permit you to have a nip of brandy if…”
“Phineas,” Felton said weakly as he raised his hand, indicating he wanted it to be held. “Just let me say…what needs to be said.”
“All right.” Phineas grasped Felton’s proffered hand, and immediately, his physician’s sensibilities took over. The older man’s fingertips were smooth but a little feverish. They were also clammy and slick with perspiration, but that was to be expected as the room was so very warm. He repositioned the grip he had on his friend’s hand and fumbled his fingers around, trying to feel Felton’s pulse, but it was so weak, he was hardly able to discern anything.
“For many years, I have longed to tell you a story,” Felton began, “a love story.”
Phineas snickered. “Does now seem like the appropriate time to indulge in fairy tales?”
“This is my only chance,” Felton wheezed. “All I have left…I give to you.”
Discomforted by the sincere grief spoiling Felton’s kind words, Phineas shifted in his seat. “What do you mean, Uncle?”
“I am not your uncle, my boy.” Felton winced. He kept his eyes shut for a long moment and whispered, “My boy…my boy…I have always referred to you thusly because Phineas…you are mine.”
“I do not understand,” Phineas said as he drew slightly aback from his friend. He did not let go of Felton’s hand, but he wanted to look more closely into his face.
Could he be hallucinating? Is he perhaps delusional?
Phineas regretted that he had not endeavoured to study the human mind more astutely. He had focused on physical ailments and stayed away from conditions associated with the brain because he did not want to be stuck servicing the high-ranking ladies who complained of having nervous flutterings. But now, he wished he was better suited to deal with such nonsensical musings.
“As you know,” Uncle Felton croaked, “I was a second son. My brother, Harold, was the heir to the earldom, so I was forced to make my own way in this world. I joined the regiment and served quite happily for several years.
I considered it my honour and duty to sacrifice not just for the Crown, but for my country, and I took up the mantle almost joyfully. But when Harold passed, and I was named the next Earl of Linfield, I was suddenly thrust into Society and felt all adrift. It was then that I met your mother and the Duke of Bixby. They were the kindest…the best friends I ever had, and we three became inseparable.”
“Yes,” Phineas agreed, feeling a bit of relief that Felton was no longer just rambling, but had reverted to stating the simple facts. “I have been told this story before.”
“But what you have been told…cuh…cuh…” Felton’s eyes pinched shut, and he shook his head, trying to banish the coughing that was repeatedly interrupting.
“Please,” Phineas whispered, “let me get you something to drink. I must relieve you and…”
“The only relief left for me is to end this life fully unfettered,” Felton breathed. “You must know the truth. Your mother and I…we became close…remarkably so.
The duke did not enjoy attending parties or soirees, so it often happened that Her Grace and I would amuse ourselves while he pursued his own avenues. You must understand…I never sought to fall in love with Isabella. It just happened because we spent so very much time in each other’s company.”
“I know that you love Mama,” Phineas assured Felton. “No one would ever dispute that you have been a faithful friend to her.”
“But she is more than my friend,” Felton said, and suddenly, his words were infused with passion. “She is the only woman I have ever loved, and she gave me the greatest gift of all—a son.”
Phineas relaxed his hold on Felton’s hand and made to move away, but Felton gripped his fingers resiliently. “You do not know what you are saying, Uncle.”
“I am not your uncle,” Felton countered in his rasping voice. “I am your father, Phineas. You are my son, and I love you, just as I have always loved you.”
“But this cannot be,” Phineas denied the claim most heartily. He stared at this man he had known his whole life and felt as if his entire perspective was tilting wildly out of his control. His insides twisted into awful, agonising knots. “You are a dear member of our family, Felton, but you were my father’s friend. You and my mother would never betray him by…”
“I think you know better than anyone how alliances can be dissolved and realigned elsewhere,” Felton interjected. He barked a cough loudly, and his head jerked back so that he lay for a long moment with his eyes closed and his chin tipped upward.
