Page 20 of Captivating the Countess
The duke was the one sleeping. At least it was quiet in here. Rain took the bedside chair and opened up a handwritten tome from the side table that he didn’t recognize.
Inside was a compilation of herbal recipes to aid in various states of anemia and malnutrition, including nourishing broths for pregnant mothers—from the Malcolm midwife who’d just left. Rain recognized most of the recipes, but there were one or two—
The door opened and the countess entered, looking like a vision in a white and gold dinner gown that left enough of her bosom exposed to show she had a few freckles in places Rain really wanted to taste. He contemplated pounding the book against his head.
Instead of fleeing, as he expected, she hesitated. He stood and offered her the chair. Probably a mistake, but he couldn’t change who he was. “You are supposed to be resting before preparing for dinner.”
“I will rest here instead.” She didn’t smile but picked up the book he’d been reading. “Winifred said you might compare these to your own recipes.”
“There are a few new ideas I could try, but I don’t believe it is lack of nourishment that is his problem. Or it is, but the problem is that he is not absorbing what he eats.”
She nodded. “He needs a cure that medical science has not yet discovered. I’ve been reading about how Malcolm healers have anenergythat seems to reduce pain and promote healing. Would you be interested in experimenting?”
Rain’s first inclination was a firmHell, no. But that would require a lengthy explanation of all the times he’d tried and failed. Any healing he accomplished was through pure medical science, which was also failing in his father’s case.
And then he noticed her hesitation. Lady Craigmore was not precisely a hesitant person. Quiet, yes,hesitant—most definitely not.
“What do you suggest?” Intrigued, he kept his voice neutral.
“Holding my hand while you try to use your gift?”
Eight
Bell wasgrateful the duke slept. That prevented his son from shouting his opinion of her inexcusable suggestion.
At least Rainford didn’t glare and walk out at her presumption, as she’d expected. She didn’t know how one went about asking a gentleman to hold hands, much less ask him to use a gift he may not have. It had been very bad of her.
“I have to try everything,” she said quietly when he said nothing. “The voice is very insistent and anxious and won’t leave me alone. Enhancing energy is the only ability I might have. It worked a little with Iona. Iona’s gift seems to work better between her and her husband. Or it could just be Iona. I don’t know.”
That seemed to unbend him a little. “Ives is particularly thick-headed. I should think his bride would have had to slap him a few times before he grasped what she wanted of him.”
Bell dared a small smile. “I think it was entirely accidental in their case. But Iona and I are twins, you see. If she can enhance his latent talent, perhaps I have the same ability...?”
“Holding your hand cannot hurt. And if my father sleeps, then we won’t raise his hopes too much. I don’t know what you expect to happen, though.” He lifted her hand and held it.
She liked the sensation of this connection with the marquess a little too much. He was warm, and his big hand was much tougher than hers. She stared at the hairs covering the back of it while he leaned over his father. Rainford was careful not to wake the duke and left the covers in place while he examined him. She wasn’t certain that simply laying hands on the covers qualified ashealing,but she was ignorant on the subject.
Still, the marquess humored her silly fantasy, which was more than she’d hoped. He must truly be desperate to save the duke.
She gripped his left hand as he passed his right one over the covers, presumably seeking... What did one seek in a healing process? It wasn’t exactly a scientific method, so she supposed the marquess had no education other than what the duke might have taught him.
Beyond the warmth of physical contact, she felt no special heat or anything that might indicate he was having any success. When he shook his head and drew back his hand, she knew they’d failed.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I just thought we should try everything.”
He nodded curtly. He had to be even more disappointed than she. She squeezed his hand in sympathy and dropped it.
She rose to leave, uncertain if Rainford’s silence indicated anger as well as disappointment. She’d probably be angry in his place. It was very hard to have hopes dashed.
“Rest,” he ordered as she slipped away.
She wouldn’t, of course. She needed company to assuage her frustration. She’d really hoped she might make a difference—and stop this nag from invading her head. With all the spirits hovering just beyond the veil of the duke’s room, she was amazed they weren’t all clamoring for attention.
Without Winifred’s accompaniment, Bell felt a trifle awkward entering the drawing room where the family gathered before dinner. She shouldn’t have worried, she realized, when she arrived to find Alicia drawing up one of her lists, with a monkey perched on her shoulder. Teddy waited eagerly with a sketching pad, an elderly hound at his feet. The others entered in pairs, discussing their children and the day’s hunting. Bell was simply one more face to bounce conversation against.
“Sit over here in the light, my lady,” Teddy ordered, indicating a wing chair beneath a gas sconce. “Dinner won’t be for another half an hour. I can make a nice start.”
“Behave yourself, Teddy,” Estelle warned, accepting a small glass of lemonade from a maid carrying a tray. “Rain needs a good steward more than you need a model.”
