Page 10 of The Nabob's Designing Daughter
It was stillfull dark outside when the slap of a tree branch against the window woke Ann. She slipped out of bed, grabbed a shawl, and padded to the window.
Rain had dampened the windows and stone. As she watched, a traveling chaise crept around the side of the castle.
Either Mr. Henderson was arriving, or Mr. Lovelace was leaving. She might as well get up.
The other men would be up early for hunting, but surely not yet. They’d still be abed, Errol as well, unless the duchess’s time had come.
But no, though the castle was large, the room she and Edme shared was in the same wing as the duchess’s, and they would have heard the commotion if her labor had started. A woman in the throes of labor could only hold back so long.
She quietly dressed in the gray light while her cousin slept on and, when a maid entered with fresh coals, she had the girl dust off her hands and help fasten the back of her gown. As she finished, Edme awakened, rubbing her eyes and demanding to know why Ann had set out her heaviest boots.
“I’m going for a walk before breakfast.”
“Wait. I’m coming with you.”
“Go back to bed. I can’t sleep and I need time to think.” If Mr. Lovelace was leaving, she’d wish him farewell. And if Mr. Henderson was arriving, she’d like to catch him alone.
“Ye’re thinking too much.” Edme slipped behind the screen, giggling. “Will you choose Lord Cottingwith? Or will it be Mr. Warton who will have to wait on his title? Or this marquess if he finally arrives?”
“Shush, you. I’m going to see Mr. Lovelace off. Catch up with me when you’re ready.”
After a nightof tossing and turning, Errol rose in the dark and dressed. He’d turned his patient over to her maid after dinner and hadn’t heard a peep from her since. It was too early to find breakfast laid out, but perhaps he could persuade a kitchen maid to heat up some water for tea, or even better, brew him a cup of coffee. And he could also have a look at the castle’s water source and sanitation. A visit to the kitchens would tell him much.
A lamp in the entry hall cast shadows on a fanciful frieze depicting knights at battle. He heard voices and paused on the stairs.
“Howwillyou manage traveling in snow if it comes, Mr. Lovelace? Should you not stay longer?”
That was Ann’s voice. Errol crept lower.
Mr. Lovelace was bending over Ann’s hand, and she stared up at the man, her face turned away so he couldn’t see her expression. She’d wrapped herself in a heavy shawl and pulled her hair back with a ribbon. It shimmered in the lamplight.
“For your fair company, Miss Strachney, I would love to stay. But my mother has expressly asked me to spend the Yuletide with her and the children, and I’ll trudge through the snow afoot if need be, for her sake.”
Now she was patting Lovelace’s hand.
Ann had batted her eyes at Lovelace prodigiously at dinner, and he’d heard not a mention of herbs and potions since he arrived. Had she abandoned all those interests for husband-hunting? Was she now nothing more than a flirt?
“Of course,” Ann said. “She must miss your father terribly.”
“She’s still grieving,” he said. “As are we all.”
“You must, of course, go. I thought the duke would—”
“He farewelled me last night. Let him sleep, if he is able. He has an ordeal coming, remember?”
“You mean the duchess does.”
“Isn’t that what I said?” Lovelace placed his other hand atop hers. “The duchess will come through her confinement just fine,” he said. “You know I have some experience, having nine brothers and sisters. A good midwife knows what to do…”
Errol bristled. What a jackanapes.
“But even better, the duke has brought in Dr. Robillard to see to her.”
“Yes.” Ann’s head moved up and down, but she sounded unconvinced, and his pride took another beating. “I’ll walk out with you.”
He stood transfixed watching them leave.
“Errol. What are you doing up so early?”
